Yet, she will forgive me; I will earn
her forgiveness by such devoted love."
He hurried on until he reached an outer gate, through which old Oliver
was driving a cart loaded with wood. As if to disencumber himself, he
threw his game bag and valuable fowling piece to the old man, saying:
"There, uncle; there's a present for you," and without waiting to hear
his thanks, hurried on, leaping hedges and ditches, until he came to the
spot where he had left his horse tied since the morning. Throwing
himself into his saddle, he put spurs to his horse, and galloped away
toward the village, nor drew rein until he reached a little tavern on
the water side. He threw his bridle to an hostler in waiting, and
hurrying in, demanded to be shown into a private room. The little parlor
was placed at his disposal. Here, for form's sake, he called for the
newspaper, cigars and a bottle of wine (none of which he discussed,
however), dismissed the attendant, and sat waiting.
Presently the odor of tar, bilge water, tobacco and rum warned him that
his expected visitor was approaching. And an instant after the door was
opened, and a short, stout, dark man in a weather-proof jacket, duck
trousers, cow-hide shoes, and tarpaulin hat entered.
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