“I tell thee, Thomas, it can’t be done. I cannot do it!”
“Thee won’t do it?” Tom stepped forward as he spoke, waving his fist threateningly, and again Isaac stepped backward before him, until he stood against the fence at the roadside, and could go no farther; his face was very white now, and he was in deadly terror. “Let me go, Thomas,” said he, in a trembling voice; “let me go—I’ll not go to Patty; I’ll go back home again.” As he spoke he made a movement to turn, as though to escape.
Tom’s head was in a mad whirl; there was a ringing in his ears, and bright sparks danced and swam before his eyes. “By the eternal! thee’ll never leave this place, Isaac Naylor,” cried he, in a terrible voice.
Then Isaac gave a shrill cry—“Help! Help!” As the words left his lips, Tom leaped upon him, and grappled with him. He struggled furiously, and Tom heard him give another sharp and terrible cry. Tom twisted his fingers into the Friend’s neckerchief, and, after that he made no other noise but a half-choked, strangling gurgle. Tom dragged him backward, and flung him down upon his knees. There was a rough-knotted stake lying by him; it was a part of a fence rail. He picked it up and raised it to strike.
I thank the Lord that his reason came back to him when it did. Another moment, and he would have been beating the life out of the poor terrified wretch at his knee. But suddenly, as though a cloud passed from before his eyes, he saw the white horror-struck face, the parted lips, and the staring eyes that were glaring up at him. Then he gave a cry so sharp that it rang in his own ears, and flinging down the stake, loosened his hold on Isaac.
He stood for a moment staring at the Friend, who staggered to his feet, and then sank down on a great rock that lay near to them, swaying this way and that, as though he were about to faint. Then Tom turned and ran.
The next minute he was out in the highroad.
Beside the bridge was a shallow pool, through which folks drove their teams in the summer time, and where they often stopped to water their horses. There was a black horse standing in the shallow now, and a man was sitting upon its back. Tom looked up as he ran out into the road, and saw that it was Mr. Moor.
Mr. Moor’s eyes were fixed upon his own with a very singular look, and it struck Tom how white his face was. But all this he saw only in one quick glance, for he turned the corner of the road, and ran toward home without stopping. There was a long and steep hill in front of him, and before he reached the top he fell into a walk, for he was panting and laboring for breath. After a while he reached the crest of the hill, and before him lay a level stretch of road; some distance along it he could see the tall cedars that stood around the old homestead farm-house. At last he came to where the long lane ran winding down from the house amongst the maple and ailanthus trees, and opened on the turnpike road through a gate that always stood open. Then Tom broke into a run again; up the lane he went, and so came at last to the paved porch at the back of the house, noticing as he passed, that Will Gaines’ horse and gig were standing beside the horse block across the road. Then he burst into the house, and into the best room.
All of the shutters were bowed but one, which was half opened, giving a faint light into the darkened room. Tom’s father and mother, his sister Susan, and his two elder brothers and Will Gaines were all there. His mother was sitting in a rocking chair, the tears running down her pale face, and Susan was fanning her with a palm-leaf fan. Will Gaines had told them of his coming, and Tom afterward found that his mother had fainted, and had only just recovered from her swoon.