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
The stranger emptied his glass and pushed it away from him. He looked
down for a little, and then, leaning over the table, tapped Will three
times upon the forearm with a single finger. “The time has come!” he
said solemnly.
An ugly thrill spread from the spot he touched. The tones of his voice
were dull and startling, and echoed strangely in Will’s heart.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, with some discomposure. “What do you
mean?”
“Look at me, and you will find your eyesight swim. Raise your hand; it
is dead-heavy. This is your last bottle of wine, Master Will, and your
last night upon the earth.”
“You are a doctor?” quavered Will.
“The best that ever was,” replied the other; “for I cure both mind and
body with the same prescription. I take away all pain and I forgive all
sins; and where my patients have gone wrong in life, I smooth out all
complications and set them free again upon their feet.”
“I have no need of you,” said Will.
“A time comes for all men, Master Will,” replied the doctor, “when the
helm is taken out of their hands. For you, because you were prudent and
quiet, it has been long of coming, and you have had long to discipline
yourself for its reception. You have seen what is to be seen about your
mill; you have sat close all your days like a hare in its form; but now
that is at an end; and,” added the doctor, getting on his feet, “you
must arise and come with me.”
“You are a strange physician,” said Will, looking steadfastly upon his
guest.
“I am a natural law,” he replied, “and people call me Death.”
“Why did you not tell me so at first?” cried Will. “I have been waiting
for you these many years. Give me your hand, and welcome.”
“Lean upon my arm,” said the stranger, “for already your strength
abates. Lean on me as heavily as you need; for though I am old, I am
very strong. It is but three steps to my carriage, and there all your
trouble ends. Why, Will,” he added, “I have been yearning for you as if
you were my own son; and of all the men that ever I came for in my long
days, I have come for you most gladly. I am caustic, and sometimes
offend people at first sight; but I am a good friend at heart to such
as you.”
“Since Marjory was taken,” returned Will, “I declare before God you
were the only friend I had to look for.” So the pair went arm-in-arm
across the courtyard.
One of the servants awoke about this time and heard the noise of horses
pawing before he dropped asleep again; all down the valley that night
there was a rushing as of a smooth and steady wind descending towards
the plain; and when the world rose next morning, sure enough Will o’
the Mill had gone at last upon his travels.
MARKHEIM
“Yes,” said the dealer, “our windfalls are of various kinds. Some
customers are ignorant, and then I touch a dividend on my superior
knowledge. Some are dishonest,” and here he held up the candle, so that
the light fell strongly on his visitor, “and in that case,” he
continued, “I profit by my virtue.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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