[CHAPTER XVIII]
THE POET VISITS BLAINDON ONCE MORE,
AND TAKES JOHN GAFFEKIN TO THE SEASHORE WHERE A MIRACLE OCCURS
... les hommes aux yeux verts ... ceux-là qui aiment la mer, la mer immense, tumultueuse et verte, l'eau informe et multiforme.
Baudelaire.
Vives autem beautus, vives in mea tutela gloriosus, et cum spatium saeculi tui permensus ad inferos demearis ibi quoque in ipso subterraneo semirutundo me ... videbis Acherontis tenebris interlucentum, Stygiisque penetralibus regnantem.
Isis to Lucius in the "Golden Ass."
John Gaffekin, weary of this world, left his invalid mother asleep, in charge of the nurse, and walked down into Blaindon after a miserable meal. His mother's health was worse, his prospects gloomy; his life had become very friendless since Norman went abroad. From the latter, moreover, he had had no news for months.
The night was clear and pleasant, but to a lonely man the far-shining brilliance of the Blaindon Arms appeared more pleasant still: and so he turned on his heel and swung in through the unaccustomed door.
"Why, bless me, Mr Gaffekin," said Nancy, "it's a long time since you've been in."
"It is, indeed, Nancy. How's life?"
"Oh, just as usual, Mr Gaffekin, thank you. Have you heard from Mr Price again?"
"Not a word," said John. "Not a single word since last summer."