A shiver passed through his body,
caused not by the coldness alone. Several came to speak to him. He did not
want to see them. He turned and fled down across the field over the fence
to the humble cabin in the valley. This he entered, now so quiet and
desolate. He reached the bed--his father's bed--and throwing himself upon
it gave vent to his grief. His pent-up feelings at last found an outlet
and tears coursed down his tanned cheeks, moistening the pillow beneath
his little curly head.
Chapter III
Glendow Rectory
"Are you cold, lad?"
"No," was the brief reply.
Parson John, Rector of Glendow, glanced down at the little muffled figure
at his side. He reached over, tucked in the robes more closely about their
feet, and spoke one word to Midnight. The horse, noble animal that she
was, bounded forward. The ice, glassy and firm, stretched out far ahead.
It was a raw, midwinter day and the wind drifting in from the north-east
presaged a storm. But the magnificent beast, black as a raven's wing, did
not mind it. With head low, tail almost touching the dash-board, and eyes
sparkling with animation, she clipped along with great strides.
Pages:
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31