"
"Upon my word!" I cried out. "Considering that Bleakirk is six miles
away, that I am walking in the other direction, and that, two hours
back, you gave me a cursed cut over the legs with that whip, I fancy
I see myself obliging you!"
He regarded me moodily for about a minute, but did not shift his
position.
"Why are you on foot?" I asked.
"Oh, my God!" he cried out quickly, as a man might that was stabbed;
"I couldn't trust myself to ride; I _couldn't_." He shuddered, and
put a hand over his eyes. "Look here," he said, "you _must_ walk
home with me, or at least see me past the Chalk-pit."
Now the Chalk-pit, when spelt with a capital letter, is an especially
deep and ugly one on the very edge of the Bleakirk road, about two
miles out of the village. A weak fence only separates its lip from
the macadam. It is a nasty place to pass by night with a carriage;
but here it was broad day, and the fellow was walking. So I didn't
take him at all.
"Listen to me," he went on in a dull voice; "do you remember sitting
beside this road, close on ten years back? And a boy and girl who
came along this road together and asked you to marry them?"
"Bless my soul! Were you that boy?"
He nodded. "Yes: and the young lady in the chaise to-day was that
girl. Old man, I know you reckon yourself clever,--I've heard you
talk: but that when I met her to-day, three hours married, and she
didn't know me, I had a hell in my heart as I drove past the
Chalk-pit, is a thing that passes your understanding, perhaps.
Pages:
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116