And the trees whose branches
interwove above the grave--grey also with moss. The trees, the mountain,
the old headstone, the man--they blended into a whole.
"Anthony!" said the man, "I have waited half my life for this!"
"And I," said Bard, "have waited a few weeks that seem longer than all
my life, for this!"
His own eager panting stopped him, but he stumbled on: "I have you here
in reach at last, Drew, and I'm going to tear your heart out, as you
tore the heart out of John Bard."
"Ah, Anthony," said the other, "my heart was torn out when you were
born; it was torn out and buried here."
And to the wild eyes of Anthony it seemed as if the great body of Drew,
so feared through the mountain-desert, was now enveloped with weakness,
humbled by some incredible burden.
After that a mist obscured his eyes; he could not see more than an
outline of the great shape before him; his throat contracted as if a
hand gripped him there, and an odd tingling came at the tips of his
fingers. He moved forward.
"It is more than I dreamed," he said hoarsely, as his foot planted
firmly on the top of the grave, and he poised himself an instant before
flinging himself on the grey giant.
Pages:
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354