For a single moment,
when he deemed himself awake, he could have sworn that a visage- one
which he seemed to remember, yet could not absolutely name as his
kinsman's- was looking towards him from the Gothic window. A deeper
sleep wrestled with and nearly overcame him, but fled at the sound
of footsteps along the opposite pavement. Robin rubbed his eyes,
discerned a man passing at the foot of the balcony, and addressed
him in a loud, peevish, and lamentable cry.
"Hallo, friend! must I wait here all night for my kinsman, Major
Molineux?"
The sleeping echoes awoke, and answered the voice; and the
passenger, barely able to discern a figure sitting in the oblique
shade of the steeple, traversed the street to obtain a nearer view. He
was himself a gentleman in his prime, of open, intelligent,
cheerful, and altogether prepossessing countenance. Perceiving a
country youth, apparently homeless and without friends, he accosted
him in a tone of real kindness, which had become strange to Robin's
ears.
"Well, my good lad, why are you sitting here?" inquired he. "Can
I be of service to you in any way?"
"I am afraid not, sir," replied Robin, despondingly; "yet I shall
take it kindly, if you'll answer me a single question.
Pages:
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35