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.
