THE MAN WITH THE SWORD
I
Those familiar words, so unexpected in that strange place, smote the boy's heart.
A thousand memories surged in on him.
His lips trembled. A very little, and he would have fallen on his knees.
It was as though an Angel had come to him walking through the Valley of the Shadow, to tell him all was well, and to go forward.
And forward he went with thankful heart.
The sea of turf ran right up to the wall, and broke against it. The windows, seen close, were less windows than loop-holes, barred across. On the sill of one was a pot of musk, newly watered, and very fragrant. Within upon the wall shimmered a ship's cutlass, and a brace of pistols.
The boy peered in.
A kitchen-parlour, raftered and paved with stone, formed the ground- floor. At one end was a huge fire-place; in the opposite corner a bed, piled high with clothes. A ladder led to a trap-door in the low ceiling. The sun flooded into the room through the one window in the other wall. The door on that side was half open; and behind it sat a man.