The Broad Highway

On I went (wearily enough, and with the faintness growing upon

me, a sickness that would not be fought down), guiding my course

by touch rather than sight, until, finding myself at fault, I

stopped again, staring about me beneath my hand. Yet, feeling

the faintness increase with inaction, I started forward, groping

before me as I went; I had gone but a few paces, however, when I

tripped over some obstacle, and fell heavily. It wanted but this

to complete my misery, and I lay where I was, overcome by a

deadly nausea.

Now presently, as I lay thus, spent and sick, I became aware of a

soft glow, a brightness that seemingly played all around me,

wherefore, lifting my heavy head, I beheld a ray of light that

pierced the gloom, a long, gleaming vista jewelled by falling

raindrops, whose brilliance was blurred, now and then, by the

flitting shapes of wind-tossed branches. At sight of this my

strength revived, and rising, I staggered on towards this welcome

light, and thus I saw that it streamed from the window of my

cottage. Even then, it seemed, I journeyed miles before I felt

the latch beneath my fingers, and fumbling, opened the door,

stumbled in, and closed it after me.

For a space I stood dazed by the sudden light, and then, little

by little, noticed that the table and chairs had been righted,

that the fire had been mended, and that candles burned brightly

upon the mantel. All this I saw but dimly, for there was a mist

before my eyes; yet I was conscious that the girl had leapt up on

my entrance, and now stood fronting me across the table.

"You!" said she, in a low, repressed voice--"you?"

Now, as she spoke, I saw the glitter of steel in her hand.

"Keep back!" she said, in the same subdued tone, "keep back--I

warn you!" But I only leaned there against the door, even as she

had done; indeed, I doubt if I could have moved just then, had I

tried. And, as I stood thus, hanging my head, and not answering

her, she stamped her foot suddenly, and laughed a short, fierce

laugh.

"So--he has hurt you?" she cried; "you are all blood--it is

running down your face--the Country Bumpkin has hurt you! Oh, I

am glad! glad! glad!" and she laughed again. "I might have run

away," she went on mockingly, "but you see--I was prepared for

you," and she held up the knife, "prepared for you--and now--you

are pale, and hurt, and faint--yes, you are faint--the Country

Bumpkin has done his work well. I shall not need this, after

all--see!" And she flung the knife upon the table.