| 76 | 77 | 78 | 79 | 80 |
| 1 | 198 | 396 | 594 | 792 |
|
not think of what he feared. A cold feeling crept over him, and he
trembled violently as he turned away. 'An old man entered the porch
just as he reached it. Edmunds started back, for he knew him well;
many a time he had watched him digging graves in the churchyard.
What would he say to the returned convict?
'The old man raised his eyes to the stranger's face, bade him ‘good-
evening,’ and walked slowly on. He had forgotten him.
'
He walked down the hill, and through the village. The weather was
warm, and the people were sitting at their doors, or strolling in their
little gardens as he passed, enjoying the serenity of the evening, and
their rest from labour. Many a look was turned towards him, and
many a doubtful glance he cast on either side to see whether any
knew and shunned him. There were strange faces in almost every
house; in some he recognised the burly form of some old schoolfellow -
a boy when he last saw him - surrounded by a troop of merry
children; in others he saw, seated in an easy-chair at a cottage door, a
feeble and infirm old man, whom he only remembered as a hale and
hearty labourer; but they had all forgotten him, and he passed on
unknown.
'The last soft light of the setting sun had fallen on the earth, casting a
rich glow on the yellow corn sheaves, and lengthening the shadows of
the orchard trees, as he stood before the old house - the home of his
infancy - to which his heart had yearned with an intensity of affection
not to be described, through long and weary years of captivity and
sorrow. The paling was low, though he well remembered the time that
it had seemed a high wall to him; and he looked over into the old
garden. There were more seeds and gayer flowers than there used to
be, but there were the old trees still - the very tree under which he
had lain a thousand times when tired of playing in the sun, and felt
the soft, mild sleep of happy boyhood steal gently upon him. There
were voices within the house. He listened, but they fell strangely upon
his ear; he knew them not. They were merry too; and he well knew
that his poor old mother could not be cheerful, and he away. The door
opened, and a group of little children bounded out, shouting and
romping. The father, with a little boy in his arms, appeared at the
door, and they crowded round him, clapping their tiny hands, and
dragging him out, to join their joyous sports. The convict thought on
the many times he had shrunk from his father's sight in that very
place. He remembered how often he had buried his trembling head
beneath the bedclothes, and heard the harsh word, and the hard
stripe, and his mother's wailing; and though the man sobbed aloud
with agony of mind as he left the spot, his fist was clenched, and his
teeth were set, in a fierce and deadly passion.
Page
Quick Jump
|