"
When, just before dawn, old Gabriel Druse issued from the house into
which he had carried Ingolby the night before, they questioned him
eagerly. He had been a figure apart from both Lebanon and Manitou, and
they did not regard him as a dago, particularly as it was more than
whispered that Ingolby "had a lien" on his daughter. In the grey light,
with his long grizzled beard and iron-grey, shaggy hair, Druse looked
like a mystic figure of the days when the gods moved among men like
mortals. His great height, vast proportions, and silent ways gave him a
place apart, and added to the superstitious feeling by which he was
surrounded.
"How is he?" they asked whisperingly, as they crowded round him.
"The danger is over," was the slow, heavy reply. He will live, but he
has bad days to face."
"What was the danger?" they asked. "Fever--maybe brain fever," he
replied. "We'll see him through," someone said.
"Well, he cannot see himself through," rejoined the old man solemnly.
The enigmatical words made them feel there was something behind.
"Why can't he see himself through?" asked Osterhaut the universal, who
had just arrived from the City Hall.
Pages:
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150