"Ay, ay, my girl!" continued the musician, "you can sing as well as the
best of them, only you love your sinful old father so much that you have
laid aside your ambitions, to follow him in his pilgrimage of expiation
about this wicked globe. Ah, sir, if you but knew--I _will_ speak,
Debora, for he is a gentleman and a lover of music! If you but knew our
history, you would not be surprised at us. Have ye ever been in Wales?"
Ferval stumbled in his answer. It was overlooked; the old man continued:
"If ye have, ye must have heard of the sin-eaters. I am one of them, I
am an eater of sin--"
Again the girl exclaimed, this time piteously, "Oh, father, remember
your vow!"
"Poor lass! Yes, I was a doer of evil, and I became an eater of sin.
Some day my sins will be forgiven--this is my penance." He pointed to
his instruments. Ferval kept silence. He feared a word would blow away
the cobweb foundations of the narrative. The girl had turned and was
watching a young tilted moon which with a single star made silvery dents
low in the western horizon.
Pages:
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384