He spoke to no
one, save the wizened Elder Meacham, and to John Fairley, who rightly
felt that he had a share in the making of Claridge Pasha.
With head perched in the air, and face half hidden in his great white
collar, the wizened Elder, stopping Luke Claridge in the street one day,
said:
"Does thee think the lad will ride in Pharaoh's chariot here?"
There were sly lines of humour about the mouth of the wizened Elder as he
spoke, but Luke Claridge did not see.
"Pride is far from his heart," he answered portentously. "He will ride in
no chariot. He has written that he will walk here from Heddington, and
none is to meet him."
"He will come by the cross-roads, perhaps," rejoined the other piously.
"Well, well, memory is a flower or a rod, as John Fox said, and the
cross-roads have memories for him."
Again flashes of humour crossed his face, for he had a wide humanity, of
insufficient exercise.
"He has made full atonement, and thee does ill to recall the past,
Reuben," rejoined the other sternly.
"If he has done no more that needs atonement than he did that day at the
cross-roads, then has his history been worthy of Hamley," rejoined the
wizened Elder, eyes shut and head buried in his collar.
Pages:
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363