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When the first long shadows stole out from the edge of the woods Fentress turned to Mahaffy, whose glance was directed toward the distant corner of the field, where he knew his friend must first appear. "Why are we waiting, sir?" he demanded, his tone cold and formal. "Something has occurred to detain Price," answered Mahaffy. The colonel and Ware exchanged looks.
In that bare upper room they had shared, the judge, crushed and broken, watched beside the bed on which the dead man lay; unconscious of the flight of time he sat with his head bowed in his hands, having scarcely altered his position since he begged those who carried Mahaffy up the narrow stairs to leave him alone with his friend. He was living over the past.
As MAHAFFY well says, "Its later annals are but a history of decay; and of the vast herd of latter tragedians two only, and two of the earliest Ion of Chi'os, and Ag'athon can be called living figures in a history of Greek literature." Even these, it seems, wrote before Sophocles and Euripides had closed their careers. But few fragments of their genius have come down to us.
"Am I to understand, Solomon, that you regard my interest in the boy as harmful?" inquired the judge, in a tone of shocked surprise. "I regard it as a calamity," said Mahaffy, with cruel candor. "And how about you, Solomon?" "Equally a calamity. Mr. Price, you don't seem able to grasp just what we look like!" "The mind's the only measure of the man, Solomon.
"And you are going to meet Fentress in the morning?" asked Mahaffy. "I suppose there's no way of avoiding that?" "Avoiding it?" almost shouted the judge. "For what have I been living? I shall meet him, let the consequences be what they may. To-night when I have reduced certain facts to writing I shall join you at Belle Plain.
Tom, for quite different reasons, was equally out of the question. She thought of Mr. Mahaffy. "What kind of a man is Mr. Mahaffy, Hannibal?" "He's an awful nice man, Miss Betty, only he never lets on; a body's got to find it out for his own self he ain't like the judge." "Does he drink, too, Hannibal?" questioned Betty. "Oh, yes; when he can get the licker, he does."
A little later they went down-stairs, where the judge had Yancy make up a bed for himself and Hannibal on the floor. He would watch alone beside Mahaffy, he was certain this would have been the dead man's wish; then he said good night and mounted heavily to the floor above to resume his vigil and his musings.
In all this criticism, let me say, one is but saying what has been said before; echoing Professor Mahaffy; echoing Professor Gilbert Murray; but there is a need to give you the best picture possible of this man speaking from the eternal.
Excursions with Walker Fearne and Professor Mahaffy. A talk with the Greek prime minister. A function at the cathedral. Visit to Mars Hill on Good Friday. To Constantinople. Our minister, Mr. Straus. Discussions of art by Hamdi Bey and of literature by Sir William White. Revelations of history and architecture in Constantinople. St. Sophia. Return to Paris. The Exposition of 1889.
The light showed a tail fellow mounted on a handsome bay horse. It was Murrell. "Is there an inn hereabouts?" he asked. "You'll find one down the road a ways," said Mahaffy. The judge said nothing. He was staring up at Murrell with drunken gravity. "Have either of you gentlemen seen a boy go through here to-day? A boy about ten years old?" Murrell glanced from one to the other. Mr.
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