Moser was written to six
weeks since, and he has been at work. Maybe, after all, no time has been
lost. I'll away now, if you will call Stephen. Don't let Mrs. Sandal
'take on' more than you can help;" and, as Stephen lifted the reins,
"You think it best to bring all here?"
"Far away best. God speed you!" He watched them out of sight,--his snowy
hair and strong face and black garments making a vivid picture in the
misty, drippy doorway,--and then, returning to his study, he began his
daily walk up and down its carpeted length, with a singularly solemn
elation. Ere long, the thoughtful stride was accompanied by low, musical
mutterings, dropping from his lips in such majestic cadences that his
steps involuntarily fell to their music in a march-like rhythm.
"Daughter of Justice, wronged Nemesis,
Thou of the awful eyes,
Whose silent sentence judgeth mortal life,--
Thou with the curb of steel,
Which proudest jaws must feel,
Stayest the snort and champ of human strife.
Under thy wheel unresting, trackless, all
Our joys and griefs befall;
In thy full sight our secret things go on;
Step after step, thy wrath
Follows the caitiff's path,
And in his triumph breaks his vile neck bone.
To all alike, thou meetest out their due,
Cubit for cubit, inch for inch,--stern, true."
At the word "true" he paused a moment, and touched with his finger an
old black volume on one of the book-shelves.
Pages:
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