An instant later the figure of the girl
fluttered through the doorway of her home, and Carnac stopped beside
Denzil in the garden.
CHAPTER X
DENZIL TELLS HIS STORY
"You keep going, Denzil," remarked Carnac as he lighted his pipe and came
close to the old servant.
The face of the toiler lighted, the eyes gazed kindly, at Carnac. "What
else is there to do? We must go on. There's no standing still in the
world. We must go on--surelee."
"Even when it's hard going, eh?" asked Carnac, not to get an answer so
much as to express his own feelings. "Yes, that's right, m'sieu'; that's
how it is. We can't stand still even when it's hard going--but, no,
bagosh!"
He realized that around Carnac there was a shadow which took its toll of
light and life. He had the sound instinct of primitive man. Strangely
enough in his own eyes was the look in those of Carnac, a past, hovering
on the brink of revelation. His appearance was that of one who had
suffered; his knotted hands, dark with warm blood, had in them a story of
life's sorrows; his broad shoulders were stooped with the inertia of long
regret; his feet clung to the ground as though there was a great weight
above them. But a smile shimmered at his mouth, giving to his careworn
face something almost beautiful, lifting the darkness from his powerful,
shaggy forehead.
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