the path of the king-第44节

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tains。　He　boggled　over　some　of　the　words；　but　on　the　whole　he　read　well；　and　his　harsh　voice　dropped　into　a　pleasant　sing…song。

By　and　by　he　noticed　that　his　mother　was　asleep。　He　took　the　tin　pannikin　and　filled　it　with　fresh　water　from　the　spring。　Then　he　kissed　the　hand　which　lay　on　the　blanket；　looked　about　guiltily　to　see　if　anyone　had　seen　him；　for　kisses　were　rare　in　that　household　and　tiptoes　out　again。

The　woman　slept；　but　not　wholly。　The　doorway；　which　was　now　filled　with　the　deeper　gold　of　the　westering　sun；　was　still　in　her　vision。　It　had　grown　to　a　great　square　of　light；　and　instead　of　being　blocked　in　the　foreground　by　the　forest　it　seemed　to　give　on　an　infinite　distance。　She　had　a　sense　not　of　looking　out　of　a　hut；　but　of　looking　from　without　into　a　great　chamber。　Peace　descended　on　her　which　she　had　never　known　before　in　her　feverish　dreams；　peace　and　a　happy　expectation。

She　had　not　listened　to　Abe's　reading；　but　some　words　of　it　had　caught　her　ear。　The　phrase　〃delectable　mountains〃　for　one。　She　did　not　know　what　〃delectable〃　meant；　but　it　sounded　good；　and　mountains；　though　she　had　never　seen　more　of　them　than　a　far　blue　line；　had　always　pleased　her　fancy。　Now　she　seemed　to　be　looking　at　them　through　that　magical　doorway。　。　。　。　The　country　was　not　like　anything　she　remembered　in　the　Kentucky　bluegrass；　still　less　like　the　shaggy　woods　of　Indiana。　The　turf　was　short　and　very　green；　and　the　hills　fell　into　gracious　folds　that　promised　homesteads　in　every　nook　of　them。　It　was　a　〃delectable〃　countryyes；　that　was　the　meaning　of　the　word　that　had　puzzled　her。　。　。　。　　She　had　seen　the　picture　before　in　her　head。　She　remembered　one　hot　Sunday　afternoon　when　she　was　a　child　hearing　a　Baptist　preacher　discoursing　on　a　Psalm；　something　about　the　〃little　hills　rejoicing。〃　She　had　liked　the　words　and　made　a　picture　in　her　mind。　These　were　the　little　hills　and　they　were　joyful。

There　was　a　white　road　running　straight　through　them　till　it　disappeared　over　a　crest。　That　was　right；　of　course。　The　road　which　the　Pilgrims　travelled。　。　。　。　　And　there；　too；　was　a　Pilgrim。

He　was　a　long　way　off；　but　she　could　see　him　quite　clearly。　He　was　a　boy；　older　than　Abe；　but　about　the　same　sizea　somewhat　forlorn　figure；　who　seemed　as　if　he　had　a　great　way　to　go　and　was　oppressed　by　the　knowledge　of　it。　He　had　funny　things　on　his　legs　and　feet；　which　were　not　proper　moccasins。　Once　he　looked　back；　and　she　had　a　glimpse　of　fair　hair。　He　could　not　be　any　of　the　Hanks　or　Linkhorn　kin；　for　they　were　all　dark。　。　。　。　　But　he　had　something　on　his　left　arm　which　she　recogniseda　thick　ring　of　gold。　It　was　her　own　ring；　the　ring　she　kept　in　the　trunk　and　she　smiled　comfortably。　She　had　wanted　it　a　little　while　ago；　and　now　there　it　was　before　her　eyes。　She　had　no　anxiety　about　its　safety；　for　somehow　it　belonged　to　that　little　boy　as　well　as　to　her。

His　figure　moved　fast　and　was　soon　out　of　sight　round　a　turn　of　the　hill。　And　with　that　the　landscape　framed　in　the　doorway　began　to　waver　and　dislimn。　The　road　was　still　there；　white　and　purposeful；　but　the　environs　were　changing。　。　。　。　　She　was　puzzled；　but　with　a　pleasant　confusion。　Her　mind　was　not　on　the　landscape；　but　on　the　people；　for　she　was　assured　that　others　would　soon　appear　on　the　enchanted　stage。

He　ran　across　the　road；　shouting　with　joy；　a　dog　at　his　heels　and　a　bow　in　his　hand。　Before　he　disappeared　she　marked　the　ring；　this　time　on　his　finger。　。　。　。　　He　had　scarcely　gone　ere　another　appeared　on　the　road；　a　slim　pale　child；　dressed　in　some　stuff　that　gleamed　like　satin；　and　mounted　on　a　pony。　。　。　。　The　spectacle　delighted　her；　for　it　brought　her　in　mind　of　the　princes　she　had　been　told　of　in　fairytales。　And　there　was　the　ring；　worn　over　a　saffron　riding　glove。　。　。　。

A　sudden　weakness　made　her　swoon；　and　out　of　it　she　woke　to　a　consciousness　of　the　hut　where　she　lay。　She　had　thought　she　was　dead　and　in　heaven　among　fair　children；　and　the　waking　made　her　long　for　her　own　child。　Surely　that　was　Abe　in　the　doorway。　。　。　。　　No；　it　was　a　taller　and　older　lad；　oddly　dressed；　but　he　had　a　look　of　Abesomething　in　his　eyes。　He　was　on　the　road　too；　and　marching　purposefullyand　he　had　the　ring。　Even　in　her　mortal　frailty　she　had　a　quickening　of　the　heart。　These　strange　people　had　something　to　do　with　her；　something　to　tell　her；　and　that　something　was　about　her　son。　。　。　。

There　was　a　new　boy　in　the　picture。　A　dejected　child　who　rubbed　the　ring　on　his　small　breeches　and　played　with　it；　looking　up　now　and　then　with　a　frightened　start。　The　woman's　heart　ached　for　him；　for　she　knew　her　own　life…long　malady。　He　was　hungry　for　something　which　he　had　small　hope　of　finding。　。　。　。　And　then　a　wind　seemed　to　blow　out…of…doors　and　the　world　darkened　down　to　evening。　But　her　eyes　pierced　the　gloaming　easily；　and　she　saw　very　plain　the　figure　of　a　man。

He　was　sitting　hunched　up；　with　his　chin　in　his　hands；　gazing　into　vacancy。　Without　surprise　she　recognised　something　in　his　face　that　was　her　own。　He　wore　the　kind　of　hunter's　clothes　that　old　folk　had　worn　in　her　childhood；　and　a　long　gun　lay　across　his　knees。　His　air　was　sombre　and　wistful；　and　yet　with　a　kind　of　noble　content　in　it。　He　had　Abe's　puckered…up　lips　and　Abe's　steady　sad　eyes。　。　。　。　　Into　her　memory　came　a　verse　of　the　Scriptures　which　had　always　fascinated　her。　〃These　all　died　in　faith；　not　having　received　the　promises；　but　having　seen　them　afar　off；　and　were　persuaded　of　them；　and　embraced　them；　and　confessed　that　they　were　strangers　and　pilgrims　upon　the　earth　〃

She　saw　it　all　in　a　flash　of　enlightenment。　These　seekers　throughout　the　ages　had　been　looking　for　something　and　had　not　found　it。　But　Abe；　her　son；　was　to　find　it。　That　was　why　she　had　been　shown　those　pictures。

Once　again　she　looked　through　the　door　into　bright　sunshine。　It　was　a　place　that　she　knew　beside　the　Ohio　she　remembered　the　tall　poplar　clump。　She　did　not　see　the　Jacksons'　farm　which　stood　south　of　the　trees；　but　there　was　the　Indian　graveyard；　which　as　a　little　girl　she　had　been　afraid　to　pass。　Now　it　seemed　to　be　fresh　made；　for　painted　vermilion　wands　stood　about　the　mounds。　On　one　of　them　was　a　gold　trinket；　tied　by　a　loop　of　hide；　rattled　in　the　wind。　It　was　her　ring。　The　seeker　lay　buried　there　with　the　talisman　above　him。

She　was　awake　now；　oblivious　of　the　swift　sinking　of　her　vital　energy。　She　must　have　the　ring；　for　it　was　the　pledge　of　a　great　glory。　。　。　。

A　breathless　little　girl　flung　herself　into　the　cabin。　It　was　Sophy　Hanks；　one　of　the　many　nieces　who　squattered　like　ducks　about　the　settlement。

〃Mammy！〃　she　cried　shrilly。　〃Mammy　Linkorn！〃　She　stammered　with　the　excitement　of　the　bearer　of　ill　news。　〃Abe's　lost　your　ring　in　the　crick。　He　took　it　for　a　sinker　to　his　lines；　for　Indian　Jake　telled　him　a　piece　of　gold　would　cotch　the　grit　fish。　And　a　grit　fish　has　cotched　it。　Abe's　bin　divn'　and　divn'　and　can't　find　it　nohow。　He　reckons　it's　plumb　Ain't　he　a　bad　'un；　Mammy　Linkhorn？〃

It　was　some　time　before　the　dying　woman　understood。　Then　she　began　feebly　to　cry。　For　the　moment　her　ring　loomed　large　in　her　eyes：　it　was　the　earnest　of　the　promise；　and　without　it　the　promise　might　fail。　She　had　not　strength　to　speak　or　even　to　sob；　and　the　tears　trickled　over　her　cheeks　in　dumb　impotent　misery。

She　was　roused　by　the　culprit　Abe。　He　stood　beside　her　with　his　wet　hair　streaked　into　a　fringe　along　his　brow。　The　skin　of　his　neck　glistened　wet　in　the　opening　of　his　shirt。　His　cheeks　too　glistened；　but　not　with　the　water　of　the　creek。　He　was　crying　bitterly。

He　had　no　words　of　explanation　or　defence。　His　thick　underlip　stuck　out　and　gave　him　the　appeal　of　a　penitent　dog；　the　tears　had　furrowed　paler　channels　down　grimy　cheeks；　he　was　the　very　incarnation　of　uncouth　misery。

But　his　mother　saw　none　of　these　things。　。　。　。　　On　the　instant　he　seemed　to　her　transfigured。　Something　she　saw　in　him　of　all　the　generations　of　pleading　boys　that　had　passed　before　her；　something　of　the　stern　confidence　of　the　man　over　whose　grave　the　ring　had　fluttered。　But　morefar　more。　She　was　assured　that　the　day　of　the　seekers　had　passed　and　that　the　finder　had　come。　。　。　。　　The　young　features　were　transformed　into　the　lines　of　a　man's　strength。　The　eyes　dreamed　but　also　commanded；　the　loose　mouth　had　the　gold　of　wisdom　and　the　steel　of　resolution。　The　promise　had　not　failed　her。　。　。　。　　She　had　won　everything　from　life；　for　she　had　given　the　world　a　master。　Words　seemed　to　speak　themselves　in　her　ear　。　。　。　〃Bethink　you　of　the　blessedness。　Every　wife　is　like　the　Mother　of　God　and　has　the　hope　of　bearing　a　saviour　of　mankind。〃

She　lay　very　still　in　her　great　joy。　The　boy　in　a　fright　sprang　to　her　side；　knocking　over　the　stool　with　the　pannikin　of　water。　He　knelt　on　the　floor　and　hid　his　face　in　the　bed…clothes。　Her　hand　found　his　shaggy　head。

Her　voice　was　very　faint　now；　but　he　heard　it。

〃Don't　cry；　little　Abe；〃　she　said。　〃Don't　you　worry　about　the　ring；　dearie。　It　ain't　needed　no　more。

Half　an　hour　later；　when　the　cabin　door　was　dim　with　twilight；　the　hand　which　the　boy　held　grew　cold。


CHAPTER　14。　THE　END　OF　THE　ROAD

When　Edward　M。　Stanton　was　associated　at　Cincinnati　in　1857　with　Abraham　Lincoln　in　the　great　McCormick　Reaper　patent　suit；　it