"
"When--where--how?"
"This minute! At home! By hard work!"
"You mean leave--go back to Merivale--to-night?"
"Aye, I do. You can catch the mail at Tonbridge and you'll be home
afore the moon's up."
"Do you know Merivale then, Jerry?"
"O' course. I'll harness Diogenes an' drive you in."
And so, within the hour, behold me upon the stage-coach that would
carry me within a mile of home; behold Jerry standing below, gazing up
at me with his wistful smile, a Jeremy whose form and features were
blurred suddenly by hot tears as the whip cracked, hoofs stamped, and
the London Mail lurched forward with a shrill and jubilant fanfare on
the horn that drowned my cry of farewell, as Jeremy's blurred image
waved blurred arm and, what with my tears and the dust, was blotted
from me altogether.
With the small incidents of this short journey I will not worry the
reader. Suffice it that the moon was high-risen when at last I reached
Merivale. The lodge gates were shut for the night, and being in no
mood to disturb any one, I clambered over the wall at an
easily-accessible, well-remembered spot, and going by familiar paths,
presently beheld the house, its many latticed casements winking
ghostly to the moon, and a beam of soft light striking athwart the
terrace from that chamber wherein my aunt Julia was wont to write her
letters and transact all business of the estate. So thither came I to
find the window wide open, for the night was hot, and to behold my
aunt, as handsome and statuesque as ever, bent gracefully above her
escritoire, pen in white fist, like an industrious goddess.
Pages:
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323