Then Robin thought he had stood
looking long enough, and moved away.
* * * * *
He came back to the City across the fields, half a mile away from the
river, and, indeed, it was a glorious sight he had before him. Here,
about him, was open ground on either side of the road on which he
walked; and there, in front, rose up on the slope of the hill the long
line of great old houses, beyond the stream that ran down into the
Thames--old Religious Houses for the most part, now disguised and pulled
about beyond recognition, ranging right and left from the Ludgate
itself: behind these rose again towers and roofs, and high above all the
tall spire of the Cathedral, as if to gather all into one, culminant
aspiration.... The light from the west lay on every surface that looked
to his left, golden and rosy; elsewhere lay blue and dusky shadows.
II
"There is a letter for you, air," said the landlord, who had an uneasy
look on his face, as the priest came through the entrance of the inn.
Robin took it. Its superscription ran shortly: "To Mr. Alban, at the Red
Bull Inn in Cheapside. Haste. Haste. Haste."
He turned it over; it was sealed plainly on the back without arms or any
device; it was a thick package, and appeared as if it might hold an
enclosure or two.
Robin had learned caution in a good school, and what is yet more vital
in true caution, an appearance of carelessness. He weighed the packet
easily in his hand, as if it were of no value, though he knew it might
contain very questionable stuff from one of his friends, and glanced at
a quantity of baggage that lay heaped beside the wall.
Pages:
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303