"Softly, Mr. Poke," said Herman. "Remember your promise to hold your peace. That scrap from Sir John, though it smacks of a better origin, is of as clear an one as the others. Read your Bible, man, for a day or two more, and learn your trade better."
"Young man," said the preacher, again somewhat abashed, but with a stern voice, "you talk like one of the ignorant"——
"Groundlings!" said the other, laying a ludicrous stress upon the word. "'Thy face is valanced since I saw thee last!'—Does that come out of Habakkuk? If you will preach, why here fate sends you another auditor, in the form of another patron to the Traveller's Rest! As for myself, I am tired not only of your homilies, but your company; and I pray you, for our own two sakes, that you cross the river before supper. The sooner the better, I assure you; for though at present the 'rack' may 'stand still,' 'the bold wind' be
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'Speechless, and the orb below As hush as death; anon the dreadful thunder Will rend the region,' |
and scatter jackdaws, along with the owls and pigeons. Fare you well, 'Sir Topas, the Curate!'—'I am one of those gentle ones that will use the devil himself with courtesy'—I leave you to the pedler there, who may be of a better temper for conversation. 'Bonos dies, Sir Topas!'"
And with these words, and laughing heartily, as at some jest perfectly well understood by Nehemiah, he left the porch, only looking once behind him, as the preacher stood regarding him with uplifted hands, and bursting into a second peal as he looked. He raised his eyes, nodding courteously to the new comer, whom he had justly characterized as a pedler—for so he seemed, having a pack strapped to his back, though riding a strong black horse. "Good luck for poor Elsie to-day!" he muttered to himself, as if even diverted by so slight a circumstance as the unusual windfall of patronage. "I thought I could not be mistaken in the rogue's lantern-jaws and huge hands; and I doubt me, his religion is a mere cloak, put on for a purpose; though I have heard of such conversions before. However, honest or not, a fool or a scoundrel, a saint or a hypocrite, it is certain he can do me no mischief; and I'll see he does none to Elsie. As for others, they must take their chances."
Thus reflecting, and amusing himself with his cogitations, he made his way, though apparently without design or object, along the road, until he had passed the park-gate of Gilbert's Folly, and reached the rivulet described before, as emptying into the river at the mouth of the ravine, on which the Traveller's Rest was built. Although shallow and of a smooth bottom, where it crossed the road, there were rocks lying in its bed both above and below; and he could hear a murmuring noise among the trees that overshadowed it above, as if it made a cascade at no great distance in that direction. He had no doubt that, by leaving the road, he was trespassing upon the manor; but having no fear of intruding upon the haunts of any of its habitants, and being moved by a painter's curiosity, he did not hesitate to clamber over the rude stone wall, and dive at once into the shadowy grove bordering the stream.
CHAPTER V.
| To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke, Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt. IL PENSEROSO. |