I'll be getting my
death now, I'm thinking, sitting alone in the cold air, hearing
the night coming, and the blackbirds flying round in the briars
crying to themselves, the time you'll hear one cart getting off a
long way in the east, and another cart getting off a long way in
the west, and a dog barking maybe, and a little wind turning the
sticks. (He listens and sighs heavily.) I'll be destroyed
sitting alone and losing my senses this time the way I'm after
losing my sight, for it'd make any person afeard to be sitting up
hearing the sound of his breath -- (he moves his feet on the
stones) -- and the noise of his feet, when it's a power of queer
things do be stirring, little sticks breaking, and the grass
moving -- (Mary Doul half sighs, and he turns on her in horror)
-- till you'd take your dying oath on sun and moon a thing was
breathing on the stones. (He listens towards her for a moment,
then starts up nervously, and gropes about for his stick.) I'll
be going now, I'm thinking, but I'm not sure what place my
stick's in, and I'm destroyed with terror and dread. (He touches
her face as he is groping about and cries out.
Pages:
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69