| 78 | 79 | 80 | 81 | 82 |
| 1 | 198 | 396 | 594 | 792 |
|
'The old man uttered a loud yell which rang through the lonely fields
like the howl of an evil spirit. His face turned black, the gore rushed
from his mouth and nose, and dyed the grass a deep, dark red, as he
staggered and fell. He had ruptured a blood-vessel, and he was a dead
man before his son could raise him. 'In that corner of the churchyard,'
said the old gentleman, after a silence of a few moments, 'in that
corner of the churchyard of which I have before spoken, there lies
buried a man who was in my employment for three years after this
event, and who was truly contrite, penitent, and humbled, if ever man
was. No one save myself knew in that man's lifetime who he was, or
whence he came - it was John Edmunds, the returned convict.'
Page
Quick Jump
|