Веснушки
Chapter XII
Whatwouldhethinkofthis?
ThesweatbrokeonFreckles’forehead.Hetuggedattheropeswheneverhefeltthathedared,buttheywerepassedaroundthetreeandhisbodyseveraltimes,andknottedonhischest.Hewashelpless.Therewasnohope,nohelp.Andaftertheyhadconspiredtomakehimappeararunawaythieftohislovedones,whatwasitthatWessnerwoulddotohim?
Whateveritwas,FrecklesliftedhisheadandresolvedthathewouldbearinmindwhathehadonceheardtheBirdWomansay.Hewouldgooutbonnily.Neverwouldheletthemsee,ifhegrewafraid.Afterall,whatdiditmatterwhattheydidtohisbodyifbysomeschemeofthedeviltheycouldencompasshisdisgrace?
ThenhopesuddenlyrosehighinFreckles’breast.Theycouldnotdothat!TheAngelwouldnotbelieve.NeitherwouldMcLean.Hewouldkeepuphiscourage.Killhimtheycould;dishonorhimtheycouldnot.
Yet,summonallthefortitudehemight,thatsaweatingintothetreeraspedhisnervesworseandworse.WithwhirlingbrainhegazedintotheLimberlost,searchingforsomething,heknewnotwhat,andinblankhorrorfoundhiseyesfocusingontheAngel.Shewasquiteadistanceaway,buthecouldseeherwhitelipsandangryexpression.
LastweekhehadtakenherandtheBirdWomanacrosstheswampoverthepathhefollowedingoingfromhisroomtothechickentree.Hehadtoldthemthenightbefore,thatthebutterflytreewasonthelineclosetothispath.Infiguringontheirnotcomingthatday,hefailedtoreckonwiththeenthusiasmoftheBirdWoman.
