The Forgery; or, Best Intentions.James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
General
The Forgery; or, Best Intentions.
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
Fiction
"No, no, Joshua," he answered; "I did not say that. I will not be
wanting in hospitality. England was famous for it, when Englishmen
were honest and man could trust man, and I will keep to it still,
though those times have gone by. I must break through my rule. Come
in--come in, sir; you shall be welcome, though there are few feet that
have ever crossed that threshold for seven-and-twenty years."
Thus saying, and telling the pedlar to shut the door after him and
bolt it, he led the way into a small sitting-room on the right hand
side. Henry followed him, and when he entered the room, the farmer,
still holding a candle in his hand, gazed at him gravely from head to
foot, with a deliberate, meditating look. He seemed struck with his
guest's appearance; but after a moment, as if conscious that his stare
was rude, he said--
"I should think few men would like to deal with you single-handed,
sir. You must be nearly as tall as I am, and a great deal stronger
now."
"I am upwards of six feet," replied Henry, "and not easily
overpowered. In the daylight I think I could have matched all three,
but in the darkness I could not see whence the blows came."
"That's a bad knock upon your forehead there," said the farmer: "sit
down, sir, and I'll make the old woman bring you some vinegar. You
seem one who would not like to carry a great black lump on his
forehead about the world."
"There's a worse wound on the back of my head," replied the young
gentleman, seating himself. "I believe it would have fractured my
skull, but fortunately my hair is very thick."
"Let me look at the wound," said the farmer. "I understand something
about those things;" and holding down the candle, he parted the large
curls of the young gentleman's hair, and as he did so, Henry heard him
murmur, "I never saw any but one who had hair like that."
"Nor I either," said the pedlar, who was standing close at his elbow,
and caught the sound of the words likewise.
"Ha!" exclaimed the former, starting up to his full height, and gazing
at the man with a look of surprise. "Do you recollect her, then?"
"To be sure I do," replied the other, in a calm and quiet tone; "I
shall never forget her as long as I live, nor her beautiful hair
either--it was so thick, so soft, and so dark, except when the light
fell upon it, and then it was like gold. I put it in a comb for her
once--I recollect quite well."
The tears rolled from the old man's eyes, and going hurriedly to the
door, he called aloud--
"Madge! Madge! bring some vinegar here, and some of the balsam."
He remained looking down the passage for about a minute, and when he
returned the tears were gone.
When the vinegar and the balsam were brought, by a servant-woman
apparently nearly as old as himself, he applied his remedies with his
own hands; and often in doing so he muttered something to himself, but
taking care that what he now said should not be heard.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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