Meanwhile Ethan Brand had resumed his seat upon the log, and moved, it
might be, by a perception of some remote analogy between his own case
and that of this self-pursuing cur, he broke into the awful laugh,
which, more than any other token, expressed the condition of his inward
being. From that moment the merriment of the party was at an end;
they stood aghast, dreading lest the inauspicious sound should be
reverberated around the horizon, and that mountain would thunder it to
mountain, and so the horror be prolonged upon their ears. Then,
whispering one to another that it was late,--that the moon was almost
down,--that the August night was growing chill,--they hurried
homewards, leaving the lime-burner and little Joe to deal as they might
with their unwelcome guest. Save for these three human beings, the open
space on the hillside was a solitude, set in a vast gloom of forest.
Beyond that darksome verge the firelight glimmered on the stately trunks
and almost black foliage of pines, intermixed with the lighter verdure
of sapling oaks, maples, and poplars, while here and there lay the
gigantic corpses of dead trees, decaying on the leaf-strewn soil. And it
seemed to little Joe--a timorous and imaginative child--that the silent
forest was holding its breath, until some fearful thing should happen.
Ethan Brand thrust more wood into the fire, and closed the door of the
kiln; then looking over his shoulder at the lime-burner and his son, he
bade, rather than advised, them to retire to rest.
"For myself, I cannot sleep," said he. "I have matters that it concerns
me to meditate upon. I will watch the fire, as I used to do in the old
time."
"And call the devil out of the furnace to keep you company, I suppose,"
muttered Bartram, who had been making intimate acquaintance with the
black bottle above mentioned. "But watch, if you like, and call as many
devils as you like! For my part, I shall be all the better for a snooze.
Come, Joe!"
As the boy followed his father into the hut, he looked back at the
wayfarer, and the tears came into his eyes; for his tender spirit had an
intuition of the bleak and terrible loneliness in which this man had
enveloped himself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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