Tales of Three Hemispheres | Page 4

day that took him up to the wold and
the lonely house, while snug by the fire his wife looked pleasurably
forward to curiosity's gratification and hoped to have news ere nightfall
that all the gossips of the village would envy. One consolation only had
Amuel as he set out with a shiver, there was a letter that day for the last
house in the lane. Long did he tarry there to look at their cheery faces,
to hear the sound of their laughter--you did not hear laughter in
wold-hut--and when the last topic had been utterly talked out and no
excuse for lingering remained he heaved a heavy sigh and plodded
grimly away and so came late to wold-hut.
He gave his postman's knock on the shut oak door, heard it reverberate
through the silent house, saw the grim elder man and his gristly hand,
gave up the green letter from China, and strode away. There is a clump
of trees growing all alone in the wold, desolate, mournful, by day, by
night full of ill omen, far off from all other trees as wold-hut from other
houses. Near it stands wold-hut. Not today did Amuel stride briskly on
with all the new winds of autumn blowing cheerily past him till he saw
the village before him and broke into song; but as soon as he was out of
sight of the house he turned and stooping behind a fold of the ground
ran back to the desolate wood. There he waited watching the evil house,
just too far to hear voices. The sun was low already. He chose the
window at which he meant to eavesdrop, a little barred one at the back,
close to the ground. And then the pigeons came in; for a great distance
there was no other wood, so numbers shelter there, though the clump is
small and of so evil a look (if they notice that); the first one frightened
Amuel, he felt that it might be a spirit escaped from torture in some
dim parlour of the house that he watched, his nerves were strained and
he feared foolish fears. Then he grew used to them and the sun set then
and the aspect of everything altered and he felt strange fears again.
Behind him was a hollow in the wold, he watched it darkening; and
before him he saw the house through the trunks of the trees. He waited
for them to light their lamps so that they could not see, when he would
steal up softly and crouch by the little back window. But though every
bird was home, though the night grew chilly as tombs, though a star
was out, still there shone no yellow light from any window. Amuel
waited and shuddered. He did not dare to move till they lit their lamps,

they might be watching. The damp and the cold so strangely affected
him that autumn evening and the remnants of sunset, the stars and the
wold and the whole vault of the sky seemed like a hall that they had
prepared for Fear. He began to feel a dread of prodigious things, and
still no light shone in the evil house. It grew so dark that he decided to
move and make his way to the window in spite of the stillness and
though the house was dark. He rose and while standing arrested by
pains that cramped his limbs, he heard the door swing open on the far
side of the house. He had just time to hide behind the trunk of a pine
when the three grim men approached him and the woman hobbled
behind. Right to the ominous clump of trees they came as though they
loved their blackness, passed through within a yard or two of the
postman and squatted down on their haunches in a ring in the hollow
behind the trees. They lit a fire in the hollow and laid a kid on the fire
and by the light of it Amuel saw brought forth from an untanned pouch
the letter that came from China. The elder opened it with his gristly
hand and intoning words that Amuel did not know, drew out from it a
green powder and sprinkled it on the fire. At once a flame arose and a
wonderful savour, the flames rose higher and flickered turning the trees
all green; and Amuel saw the gods coming to snuff the savour. While
the three grim men prostrated themselves by their fire, and the horrible
woman that was the spouse of one, he saw the gods coming gauntly
over the wold, beheld the gods of Old England hungrily snuffing the
savour, Odin, Balder, and Thor, the gods of the ancient people, beheld
them eye to eye clear and