The Merry Men, and Other Tales and FablesStevenson, Robert Louis
History
The Merry Men, and Other Tales and Fables
Stevenson, Robert Louis
Boys -- Fiction; Great Britain -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Paranormal fiction; Treasure troves -- Fiction
and more spectral than before; and once again he heard the noise of an
equipage upon the road. And so thrice and four times, the same dream,
or the same fancy, presented itself to his senses: until at length,
smiling to himself as when one humours a nervous child, he proceeded
towards the gate to set his uncertainty at rest.
From the arbour to the gate was no great distance, and yet it took Will
some time; it seemed as if the dead thickened around him in the court,
and crossed his path at every step. For, first, he was suddenly
surprised by an overpowering sweetness of heliotropes; it was as if his
garden had been planted with this flower from end to end, and the hot,
damp night had drawn forth all their perfumes in a breath. Now the
heliotrope had been Marjory’s favourite flower, and since her death not
one of them had ever been planted in Will’s ground.
“I must be going crazy,” he thought. “Poor Marjory and her
heliotropes!”
And with that he raised his eyes towards the window that had once been
hers. If he had been bewildered before, he was now almost terrified;
for there was a light in the room; the window was an orange oblong as
of yore; and the corner of the blind was lifted and let fall as on the
night when he stood and shouted to the stars in his perplexity. The
illusion only endured an instant; but it left him somewhat unmanned,
rubbing his eyes and staring at the outline of the house and the black
night behind it. While he thus stood, and it seemed as if he must have
stood there quite a long time, there came a renewal of the noises on
the road: and he turned in time to meet a stranger, who was advancing
to meet him across the court. There was something like the outline of a
great carriage discernible on the road behind the stranger, and, above
that, a few black pine-tops, like so many plumes.
“Master Will?” asked the new-comer, in brief military fashion.
“That same, sir,” answered Will. “Can I do anything to serve you?”
“I have heard you much spoken of, Master Will,” returned the other;
“much spoken of, and well. And though I have both hands full of
business, I wish to drink a bottle of wine with you in your arbour.
Before I go, I shall introduce myself.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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