The Light That Lures | Page 6

he comes to no harm as he grows up.'
Well, that's all I've done, and it's what I'm bound to go on doing just as
long as ever I can. That was the first time I saw you, Master Richard."
Barrington did not answer. His companion's words had brought a
picture to his mind of his home in Virginia, which he had never loved
quite so well perhaps as at this moment when he was far away from it,
and was conscious that he might never see it again. Only a few months
ago, when he had sat on the hummock, falling into much the same
position as he had so often done as a boy, he had even wondered
whether he wanted to return to it. Broadmead could never be the same
place to him again. His father had died five years since, and that had
been a terrible and sincere grief to him, but he had his mother, and had
to fill his father's place as well as he could. The work on the estate gave
him much to do, and if the news from France which found its way to
Broadmead set him dreaming afresh at times, he cast such visions away.
He had no inclination to leave his mother now she was alone, and he
settled down to peaceful, happy days, hardly desiring that anything
should be different, perhaps forgetting that some day it must be
different. Not a year had passed since the change had come. A few
days' illness and his mother was suddenly dead.
He was alone in the world. How could Broadmead ever be the same to
him again?
"Seth, did my mother ever say anything more to you about me?" he
asked suddenly.
"She thanked me for saving you from the bull, though I wanted no
thanks."
"Nothing more?"
"Only once," Seth returned, "and then she said almost the same words

as she did when I first saw you lying on her knee. 'See that he comes to
no harm, Seth.' She sent for me the night before she died, Master
Richard. That's why I'm here. I didn't want to leave Virginia
particularly."
Barrington might have expressed some regret for bringing his
companion to France had not his horse suddenly demanded his
attention. They had traversed the long stretch of straight road, and were
passing by a thin wood of young trees. Long grass bordered the road on
either side, and Barrington's horse suddenly shied and became restive.
"There's something lying there," said Seth, whose eyes were suddenly
focused on the ground, and then he dismounted quickly. "It's a man,
Master Richard, and by the Lord! he's had rough treatment."
Barrington quieted his horse with soothing words, and dismounting,
tethered him to a gate.
"He's not dead," Seth said, as Barrington bent over him; and as if to
endorse his words, the man moved slightly and groaned.
"We can't leave him, but--"
"But we shall not reach Paris to-night," Seth returned. "Didn't they tell
us we should pass by a village? I have forgotten the name."
"Trémont," said Richard.
"It can't be much farther. There's no seeing to find out his injuries here,
but if you could help to get him over the saddle in front of me, Master
Richard, I could take him along slowly."
A feeble light glimmered presently along the road, which proved to be
the light from a tavern which stood at one end of the village, a rough
and not attractive house of entertainment, a fact that the neighbors
seemed to appreciate, for no sound came from it.
"Those who attacked him may be there, Master Richard, refreshing

themselves after their dastardly work."
"They must be saying silent prayers of repentance, then. Stay in the
shadows, Seth; I'll make inquiry."
Leading his horse, Barrington went to the door and called for the
landlord. He had to call twice before an old man shuffled along a dark
passage from the rear of the house and stood before him.
"Are there lodgings for travelers here?"
"Lodgings, but no travelers. Trémont's deserted except by children and
invalids. All in Paris, monsieur. Ay, these be hard times for some of
us."
"I'm for Paris, but must rest here to-night."
"You're welcome, monsieur, and we'll do our best, but it's poor fare
you'll get and that not cheap."
"Are there no travelers in the house?"
"None; none for these two months."
"No visitor of any kind?"
"None. Only four to-day, and they cursed me and my wine."
"I have a friend with me, and a wounded man. We found him by the
roadside."
"We'll do our best," said the landlord, and he turned away and called
for his wife.
As Barrington and Seth carried the wounded man in, the landlord
looked at him