I thought of the old fox, Simon Barjona, and laughed inwardly as well as outwardly. Widow Robertshaw little realised that I knew her secret.
Outside the storm raged furiously. The snow lay thick upon the ground, moist as it fell, but frozen in a moment, and to venture out seemed in my case impossible. We held a council of ways and means which resulted in the production of a young man of strong build from a cottage a few doors away, who smiled at the storm and readily undertook, in exchange for a shilling, coin of the realm—to convey a note to Mother Hubbard, describing my predicament.
I enjoyed Widow Robertshaw's hospitality, perforce, for two days, and when I returned home it was in Mr. Higgins' market cart, he having called in the Gap "casual-like" to see how Mrs. Robertshaw was "going on."
CHAPTER XI
GINTY RUNS AWAY
What a curious medley life is! How crowded with dramatic situations and sudden anti-climaxes! Even in Windyridge the programme of existence is as varied and full of interest as that of any picture palace. We have all the combinations of tragedy and pathos and humour, and he who has eyes to see and ears to hear and a heart to feel need not complain of the monotony of the village, nor pine for the manufactured excitements of the metropolis.
A letter with a foreign postmark and an Egyptian stamp was handed to me on Monday morning, and I have been excited and troubled ever since, though it brought me a great joy. The handwriting was unfamiliar, but when I turned to the signature I found it was from the squire, and I began to read it eagerly. I was astonished to find how small and particularly neat his handwriting is.
The letter ran thus, omitting certain descriptive and unimportant paragraphs:
"Assouan, Upper Nile,
"March 12th, 19—.