Tomaso's Fortune and Other Stories by Henry Seton Merriman
page 74 of 268 (27%)
page 74 of 268 (27%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
"Provided," he muttered, "that I can waken that cure." He crept on, while the gale paused to take breath, and a moment later cowered in the porch of a little yellow house. He kicked the door with his heel and then waited, with his ear to the great keyhole. Surely the cure must have been a good man to sleep in such a night. The street had naturally been deserted, for it was nearly three o'clock in the morning, and dawn could not be far off. "A one-armed man and a priest!" said the man to himself, with an expressive jerk of the head. And, indeed, all the men of Yport had sailed for the Northern fisheries, leaving the village to the women and children, and the maimed. Within the house there were sounds of some one astir. "One comes!" cried a cheery voice belonging assuredly to some one who was brave, for none expects to be called from his bed to hear good news. A single bolt was drawn and the door thrown open. The cure--a little man--stood back, shading the candle with his hand. "Ah, Jean Belfort! it is you." "Yes, I and my one arm," replied the man, coming in and closing the door. The rain dripped from his oilskins to the clean floor. "Ah, but this is no night to complain. Better be on shore with one arm than at sea with two to-night." |
|