The Broad Highway

"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.