Down at the lower end sat the servants, brown men, burned
by the sun; lean as panthers, scarcely speaking, ravenous after their
long day in the hayfields; and up here three companions with whom he was
wholly at his ease. The evening was as still as night, except for the
faint peaceful country sounds that came up from the valley below--the
song of a lad riding home; the barking of a dog; the bleat of sheep--all
minute and delicate, as unperceived, yet as effective, as a rich fabric
on which a design is woven. It seemed to him as he listened to the
talk--the brisk, shrewd remarks of Mr. Garlick; the courteous and rather
melancholy answers of his host; as he watched the second priest's eyes
looking gently and pleasantly about him; as he ate the plain, good food
and drank the country drink, that, in spite of all, his lot was cast in
very sweet places. There was not a hint here of disturbance, or of men's
passions, or of ugly strife: there was no clatter, as in the streets of
Derby, or pressure of humanity, or wearying politics of the
market-place. He found himself in one of those moods that visit all men
sometimes, when the world appears, after all, a homely and a genial
place; when the simplest things are the best; when no excitement or
ambition or furious zeal can compare with the gentle happiness of a
tired body that is in the act of refreshment, or of a driven mind that
is finding its relaxation. At least, he said to himself, he would enjoy
this night and the next day and the night after, with all his heart.
Pages:
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415