Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: April 30, 2025
Dead or alive, he was in Keeley's Gulch, the man who knew where Marcile was; and if he knew where Marcile was, and if she was alive, and he was outside these prison walls, what would he do to her? And if he was outside these prison walls, and in the Gulch, and the man was there alive before him, what would he do?
The tender sap of youth was in this glowing and alert new world, and, by sudden contrast with the prison walls which he had just left behind, the earth seemed recreated, unfamiliar, compelling and companionable. Strange that in all the years that had been since he had gone back to his abandoned home to find Marcile gone, the world had had no beauty, no lure for him.
But now, after the first shock and stupefaction, it seemed to go back to where it was before Marcile went from him, gather up the force and intelligence it had then, and come forwards again to this supreme moment, with all that life's harsh experiences had done for it, with the education that misery and misdoing give.
In the splendour of it all, he had only raged and stormed, hating his fellowman, waiting, however hopelessly, for the day when he should see Marcile and the man who had taken her from him.
They realised that these two men had an account to settle, and there was no need for Grassette to take revenge, for Bignold was going fast. "You stan' far back," said Grassette, and they fell away. Then he stooped down to the sunken, ashen face, over which death was fast drawing its veil. "Marcile where is Marcile?" he asked. The dying man's lips opened.
All in a moment it came and stayed; and he spoke to her, to Marcile, that very night, and he spoke also to her father, Valloir the farrier, the next morning by lamplight, before he started for the woods.
They realised that these two men had an account to settle, and there was no need for Grassette to take revenge, for Bignold was going fast. "You stan' far back," said Grassette, and they fell away. Then he stooped down to the sunken, ashen face, over which death was fast drawing its veil. "Marcile where is Marcile?" he asked. The dying man's lips opened.
The Sheriff's words had left no vestige of doubt in Grassette's mind. This Bignold was the man who had taken Marcile away, first to the English province, then into the States, where he had lost track of them, then over to England. Marcile where was Marcile now? In Keeley's Gulch was the man who could tell him, the man who had ruined his home and his life.
But now, after the first shock and stupefaction, it seemed to go back to where it was before Marcile went from him, gather up the force and intelligence it had then, and come forwards again to this supreme moment, with all that life's harsh experiences had done for it, with the education that misery and misdoing give.
In all the years that had gone, he had had an ungovernable desire to kill both Bignold and Marcile if he ever met them, a primitive, savage desire to blot them out of life and being. His fingers had ached for Marcile's neck, that neck in which he had lain his face so often in the transient, unforgettable days of their happiness. If she was alive now if she was still alive!
Word Of The Day
Others Looking