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Quiller-Couch, Arthur Thomas, Sir, 1863-1944

"Memoirs of His Adventures At Home and Abroad and Particularly in the Island of Corsica: Beginning with the Year 1756"


Then, turning with a moisture in my eyes--for the organ had begun to
sound within the abbey--I found myself staring past the torch of a
foot-guard and into the face of my nephew, risen from the dead!
He was haggard, unkempt in his hair and dress, and (I think) had been
fasting for a long while without being aware of his hunger. He drew
me back and away from the crowd; but when I had embraced him, it
seemed that to all my eager questions he had nothing to answer.
"I was starting for Cornwall, to-morrow," he said. "Shall we travel
together?" And then, as though painfully recollecting, he passed a
hand over his forehead and added, "I have walked half-way across
Europe. I am a good walker by this time."
"We will hire horses, to be sure," said I, finding nothing better to
say.
The age, the lines in his young face cut me to the heart, and I
longed to ask concerning the Princess, but dared not.
"Horses? Ah, yes, to be sure, I come back to riches. Nay, my dear
uncle, you are going to tell me that the estates are mortgaged deep
as ever--I know. But allow me to tell you there is all the world's
difference between poverty that is behindhand with its interest, and
poverty that has to trust God for its next meal.


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