"Good-by!" said I, clasping his hand; "good-by, George!"
"Why do 'ee say good-by?"
"Because I am going away."
"Goin' away, Peter--but wheer?"
"God knows!" I answered, "but, wherever it be, I shall carry with
me the memory of your kind, true heart--and you, I think, will
remember me. It is a blessed thing, George, to know that, howso
far we go, a friend's kind thoughts journey on with us, untiring
to the end."
"Oh, Peter, man! don't go for to leave me--"
"To part is our human lot, George, and as well now as later
--good-by!"
"No, no!" he cried, throwing his arm about me, "not down theer
--it be so deadly an' lonely down theer in the darkness. Come
back wi' me--just for to-night." But I broke from his detaining
hand, and plunged on down into the shadows. And, presently,
turning my head, I saw him yet standing where I had left him,
looming gigantic upon the sky behind, and with his head sunk
upon his breast.
Being come at last to the cottage, I paused, and from that place
of shadows lifted my gaze to the luminous heaven, where were a
myriad eyes that seemed to watch me with a new meaning, to-night;
wherefore I entered the cottage hastily, and, closing the door,
barred it behind me. Then I turned to peer up at that which
showed above the door--the rusty staple upon which a man had
choked his life out sixty and six years ago. And I began, very
slowly, to loosen the belcher neckerchief about my throat.
"Peter!" cried a voice--"Peter!" and a hand was beating upon the
door.