"Don't step on me," he entreated. "'Remember
in the day o' judgment God'll mind the look o' yer master.'" He
took hold of those long, soft threads, and the horse lifted him
gently to his feet, and they walked, his arm about her neck, his
face in the ravelled silk of her mane. "I don't know whose horse
you are, even, or where you are taking me," he said. They went
down a long lane and came at length to a bar-way, and Trove crawled
through.
He saw near him a great white house--one he had never seen
before--and a beautiful lady in the doorway. He turned toward her,
and it seemed a long journey to the door, although he knew it was
only a few paces. He fell heavily on the steps, and the woman gave
a little cry of alarm. She came quickly and bent over him. His
clothes were torn, his face pale and haggard, his eyes closed.
"I am sick," he whispered faintly.
"Theron! Theron! come here! Sidney is sick," he heard her calling.
"Is it you, mother?" the boy whispered, feeling her face. "I
thought it was a great, white mansion here, and that you--that you
were an angel."
XXXI
A Man Greater than his Trouble
For a month the young man lay burning with fever, his brain boiled
in hot blood until things hideous and terrible were swarming out of
it, as if it were being baned of dragons.
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