England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Wessex (England) -- Fiction
But it was not for long. Hardly had the sound of footsteps died away
when a man returned round the corner of the house from the direction
the pursuers had taken. Peeping in at the door, and seeing nobody
there, he entered leisurely. It was the stranger of the chimney-corner,
who had gone out with the rest. The motive of his return was shown by
his helping himself to a cut piece of skimmer-cake that lay on a ledge
beside where he had sat, and which he had apparently forgotten to take
with him. He also poured out half a cup more mead from the quantity
that remained, ravenously eating and drinking these as he stood. He had
not finished when another figure came in just as quietly—his friend in
cinder-gray.
‘O—you here?’ said the latter, smiling. ‘I thought you had gone to help
in the capture.’ And this speaker also revealed the object of his
return by looking solicitously round for the fascinating mug of old
mead.
‘And I thought you had gone,’ said the other, continuing his
skimmer-cake with some effort.
‘Well, on second thoughts, I felt there were enough without me,’ said
the first confidentially, ‘and such a night as it is, too. Besides,
’tis the business o’ the Government to take care of its criminals—not
mine.’
‘True; so it is. And I felt as you did, that there were enough without
me.’
‘I don’t want to break my limbs running over the humps and hollows of
this wild country.’
‘Nor I neither, between you and me.’
‘These shepherd-people are used to it—simple-minded souls, you know,
stirred up to anything in a moment. They’ll have him ready for me
before the morning, and no trouble to me at all.’
‘They’ll have him, and we shall have saved ourselves all labour in the
matter.’
‘True, true. Well, my way is to Casterbridge; and ’tis as much as my
legs will do to take me that far. Going the same way?’
‘No, I am sorry to say! I have to get home over there’ (he nodded
indefinitely to the right), ‘and I feel as you do, that it is quite
enough for my legs to do before bedtime.’
The other had by this time finished the mead in the mug, after which,
shaking hands heartily at the door, and wishing each other well, they
went their several ways.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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