A silence fell when his step was heard to pass down the stairs and out
into the street, and another half an hour later when he returned. Then
once more the discussion began.
At ten o'clock the majority of the men moved out into the moonlight to
disperse homewards, as the landlord began to put away the glasses and
glance at the clock. Overhead the lighted blind showed where the
mysterious stranger still kept vigil; and over the way, beyond the
still leafless trees, towered up the twisted chimneys of Mrs. Baxter's
house. No word had been spoken connecting the two, yet one or two of
the men glanced across the way in vague surmise.
Nearly a couple of hours later the landlord himself came to the door
to give the great Mr. Nugent himself, with whom he had been sitting in
the inner parlor, a last good-night, and he too noticed that the
bedroom window was still lighted up. He jerked his finger in the
direction of it.
"A late old party," he said in an undertone.
Mr. Nugent nodded. He was still a little flushed with whisky and with
his previous recountings of what would have happened if his poor
daughter had lived to marry the young squire, of his (Mr. Nugent's)
swift social advancement and its outward evidences, and of the
hobnobbing with the gentry that would have taken place.
Pages:
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328