Christian's surveillance galled him incessantly, and embarrassment
and danger he foresaw as the outcome. Therefore, that suspicion
might be lulled, he judged it wise to make overtures for peace.
Most easily done. A little kindliness, a few evidences of
consideration, a slight return of the old brotherly imperiousness,
and Christian replied by a gratefulness and relief that might have
touched him had he understood all, but instead, increased his
secret contempt.
So successful was this finesse, that when, late on a day, a
message summoning Christian to a distance was transmitted by
Sweyn, no doubt of its genuineness occurred. When, his errand
proved useless, he set out to return, mistake or misapprehension
was all that he surmised. Not till he sighted the homestead, lying
low between the night-grey snow ridges, did vivid recollection of
the time when he had tracked that horror to the door rouse an
intense dread, and with it a hardly-defined suspicion.
His grasp tightened on the bear-spear that he carried as a staff;
every sense was alert, every muscle strung; excitement urged him
on, caution checked him, and the two governed his long stride,
swiftly, noiselessly, to the climax he felt was at hand.
As he drew near to the outer gates, a light shadow stirred and
went, as though the grey of the snow had taken detached motion. A
darker shadow stayed and faced Christian, striking his life-blood
chill with utmost despair.
Pages:
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51