A moment afterwards his voice came back exultingly, through the morning
air:
"But a Gorgio sleeps 'neath the greenwood tree
He'll broach my tan no more:
And my love, she sleeps afar from me
But near to the churchyard door."
As the old man turned heavily towards the house, and opened the outer
door, Fleda met him.
"What did you mean when you said that Ingolby's eyes would not feed upon
me?" she asked in a low tone of fear.
A look of compassion came into the old man's face. He took her hand.
"Come and I will tell you," he said.
CHAPTER XII
"LET THERE BE LIGHT"
In Ingolby's bedroom, on the night of the business at Barbazon's Tavern,
Dr. Rockwell received a shock. His face, naturally colourless, was
almost white, and his eyes were moist. He had what the West called
nerve. That the crisis through which he had passed was that of a
friend's life did not lessen the poignancy of the experience. He had a
singularly reserved manner and a rare economy of words; also, he had the
refinement and distinction of one who had, oforetime, moved on the higher
ranges of social life.
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