Запретный лес

II. The Road to Calidon

           Inthatdreamhetoohadbeenmail-clad,andhelaughedattheremembrance.ItwasafarcryfromthattothesedateministerofWoodilee.

           AsheturneduptheroadtotheGreenshielherememberedwithcompunctionhiserrand.Hehadbeenamusinghimselfwithvainmemorieswhenhewasonthewaytocomfortabedofdeath.Bothhorseandriderwereinasobermoodwhentheyreachedthesheiling,thehorsefrommuchstumblinginpeat-bogs,andthemanfromreflectionsonhisunworthiness.

           Rushlightsburnedinthesingleroom,andthedoorandtheonewindowstoodopen.Itwasamiserablehutofunmortaredstonesfromthehill,thegapsstuffedwithearthandturf,andtheroofofheatherthatch.Oneglanceshowedhimthathewastoolate.Amansatonastoolbythedeadpeat-firewithhisheadinhishands.Awomanwasmovingbesidetheboxbedandunfoldingapieceofcoarselinen.TheshepherdoftheGreenshielmightbeanoldexercisedChristian,buttherewerethingsinthatplacewhichhadnowarrantfromtheBible.Aplatterfullofcoarsesaltlayatthefootofthebed,andatthetopcrossedtwigsofash.

           Thewoman--shewasaneighbouringshepherd’swife--stilledherkeeningatthesoundofDavid’sfeet.

           "It’shimsel’,"shecried."Richie,it’stheminister.Wae’sme,sir,butye’reowerlatetospeedpuirMirren.Anhoursyneshegaedtoherreward--justslippedawa’inafito’hoastin’[coughing].I’vestrauchten’dthecorpandamgettin’thedeidclaesready--Mirrenwasayeproodo’hers,andkeepitthemfineandcallerwi’gallandrosmry.

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