|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 25
V
It was three weeks since he had fetched his flock down from the fell.
After dinner he and his mother sat together in the parlour: they had
done so every Sunday afternoon, year in and year out, as far back as he
could remember.
A row of mahogany chairs, with shiny, horse-hair seats, were ranged
round the room. A great collection of agricultural prize-tickets were
pinned over the wall; and, on a heavy, highly-polished sideboard stood
several silver cups. A heap of gilt-edged shavings filled the unused
grate: there were gaudily-tinted roses along the mantelpiece, and, on a
small table by the window, beneath a glass-case, a gilt basket filled
with imitation flowers. Every object was disposed with a scrupulous
precision: the carpet and the red-patterned cloth on the centre table
were much faded. The room was spotlessly clean, and wore, in the chilly
winter sunlight, a rigid, comfortless air.
Neither spoke, or appeared conscious of the other's presence. Old Mrs.
Garstin, wrapped in a woollen shawl, sat knitting: Anthony dozed
fitfully on a stiff-backed chair.
Of a sudden, in the distance, a bell started tolling. Anthony rubbed his
eyes drowsily, and taking from the table his Sunday hat, strolled out
across the dusky fields. Presently, reaching a rude wooden seat, built
beside the bridle-path, he sat down and relit his pipe. The air was very
still; below him a white filmy mist hung across the valley: the
fell-sides, vaguely grouped, resembled hulking masses of sombre shadow;
and, as he looked back, three squares of glimmering gold revealed the
lighted windows of the square-towered church.
He sat smoking; pondering, with placid and reverential contemplation,
on the Mighty Maker of the world--a world majestically and inevitably
ordered; a world where, he argued, each object--each fissure in the
fells, the winding course of each tumbling stream--possesses its
mysterious purport, its inevitable signification....
At the end of the field two rams were fighting; retreating, then running
together, and, leaping from the ground, butting head to head and horn to
horn. Anthony watched them absently, pursuing his rude meditations.
... And the succession of bad seasons, the slow ruination of the farmers
throughout the country, were but punishment meted out for the
accumulated wickedness of the world. In the olden time God rained
plagues upon the land: nowadays, in His wrath, He spoiled the produce of
the earth, which, with His own hands, He had fashioned and bestowed upon
men.
He rose and continued his walk along the bridle-path. A multitude of
rabbits scuttled up the hill at his approach; and a great cloud of
plovers, rising from the rushes, circled overhead, filling the air with
a profusion of their querulous cries. All at once he heard a rattling of
stones, and perceived a number of small pieces of shingle bounding in
front of him down the grassy slope.
A woman's figure was moving among the rocks above him. The next moment,
by the trimming of crimson velvet on her hat, he had recognized her. He
mounted the slope with springing strides, wondering the while how it was
she came to be there, that she was not in church playing the organ at
afternoon service.
Before she was aware of his approach, he was beside her.
'I thought ye'd be in church--' he began.
She started: then, gradually regaining her composure, answered, weakly
smiling:
'Mr. Jenkinson, the new schoolmaster, wanted to try the organ.'
He came towards her impulsively: she saw the odd flickers in his eyes as
she stepped back in dismay.
'Nay, but I will na harm ye,' he said. 'Only I reckon what 'tis a
special turn o' Providence, meetin' wi' ye oop here. I reckon what ye'll
hev t' give me a square answer noo. Ye canna dilly-dally everlastingly.'
He spoke almost brutally; and she stood, white and gasping, staring at
him with large, frightened eyes. The sheep-walk was but a tiny
threadlike track: the slope of the shingle on either side was very
steep: below them lay the valley; distant, lifeless, all blurred by the
evening dusk. She looked about her helplessly for a means of escape.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|