Then he took a
handful in either hand, and so kept on.
The minutes grew into hours; the hours seemed to become days; but there,
at last, the well-known village lay! How reposeful and unconcerned the
houses looked, as if there were no such thing in the world as effort,
despair, or victory! As he came near, Bressant tried to nerve himself,
to walk erect and steady, to clear and concentrate his swimming sight
and confused head. He dreaded to meet the village-people, to have them
come staring and questioning about him, whispering and laughing among
themselves, and asking one another what was the matter with the man who
was engaged to the minister's daughter on this his wedding-morning.
Just then he felt a gentle pulling at his heart!
Presently he was in the village. There was a disjointed vision of faces,
some of which he knew, floating around him. Once in a while he caught
the sound of a voice through the humming in his ears. Were they offering
him assistance? warning him? calling to him? He knew not, nor cared. He
passed on, feebly but desperately. He saw the clock on the
church-steeple mark half-past eleven; still in time, thank God! but no
time to lose.
How well he knew the road, over which he was now groping his staggering
and uncertain way! In how many moods he had walked it, actuated by how
many different passions and impulses! And now he was as one dead, whose
body is dragged strangely onward by some invincibly-determined will.
Pages:
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427