He had now
been ill with ague, in the same way as Grind. Hearing the approach of
footsteps, he turned his head, and rose when he saw it was Lionel.
"Well, Robin, how fares it? You are better, I hear. Sit yourself down;
you are not strong enough to stand. What an enemy this low fever is! I
wish we could root it out!"
"Many might be all the healthier for it, sir, if it could be done," was
Robin's answer, spoken indifferently--as he nearly always spoke now. "As
for me, I'm not far off being well again."
"They said in the village you were going to die, Robin, did they not?"
continued Lionel. "You have cheated them, you see."
"They said it, some of 'em, sir, and thought it, too. Old father thought
it. I'm not sure but Mr. Jan thought it. _I_ didn't, bad as I was,"
continued Robin, in a significant tone. "I had my oath to keep."
"Robin!"
"Sir, I have sworn--and you know I have sworn it--to have my revenge
upon him that worked ill to Rachel. I can't die till that oath has been
kept."
"There's a certain sentence, Robin, given us for our guidance, amid many
other such sentences, which runs somewhat after this fashion: 'Vengeance
is mine,'" quietly spoke Lionel.
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