Prev | Current Page 396 | Next

Farrar, Frederic William, 1831-1903

"Eric"

Gradually gently it crept up to the place where Vernon lay; and
the little ripples fell over him wonderingly, with the low murmur of
their musical laughter, and blurred and dimmed the vivid splashes and
crimson streaks upon the white stone on which his head had fallen, and
washed away some of the purple bells and green sprigs of heather round
which his fingers were closed in the grasp of death, and played softly
with his fair hair as it rose, and fell, and floated on their
undulations like a leaf of golden-colored weed, until they themselves
were faintly discolored by his blood. And then, tired with their new
plaything, they passed on, until the swelling of the water was just
strong enough to move rudely the boy's light weight, and in a few
moments more would have tossed it up and down with every careless wave
among the boulders of the glen. And then it was that Montagu's
horror-stricken gaze had identified the object at which they had been
gazing. In strange foreboding silence they urged on the boat, while Eric
at the prow seemed wild with the one intense impulse to verify his
horrible suspicion.


Pages:
384 385 386 387 388 389 390 391 392 393 394 395 396 397 398 399 400 401 402 403 404 405 406 407 408