"gp46w10" - читать интересную книгу автора (Parker Gilbert)

a coach showed on the hill, and came dashing down and past. He lifted
his eyes idly, though never before had he seen such a coach as swings
away from Northumberland Avenue of a morning. He was not idle, however;
but he had not come to England to show surprise at anything. As the
coach passed his face lifted above the arm on the neck of the horse,
keen, dark, strange. A man on the box-seat, attracted at first by the
uncommon horses and their trappings, caught Belward's eyes. Not he
alone, but Belward started then. Some vague intelligence moved the minds
of both, and their attention was fixed till the coach rounded a corner
and was gone.

The landlord was at Belward's elbow.

"The gentleman on the box-seat be from Ridley Court. That's Maister Ian
Belward, sir."

Gaston Belward's eyes half closed, and a sombre look came, giving his
face a handsome malice. He wound his fingers in his horse's mane, and
put a foot in the stirrup.

"Who is 'Maister Ian'?"

"Maister Ian be Sir William's eldest, sir. On'y one that's left, sir.
On'y three to start wi': and one be killed i' battle, and one had trouble
wi' his faither and Maister Ian; and he went away and never was heard on
again, sir. That's the end on him."

"Oh, that's the end on him, eh, landlord? And how long ago was that?"

"Becky, lass," called the landlord within the door, "wheniver was it
Maister Robert turned his back on the Court--iver so while ago? Eh, a
fine lad that Maister Robert as iver I see!"

Fat laborious Becky hobbled out, holding an apple and a knife. She
blinked at her husband, and then at the strangers.

"What be askin' o' the Court?" she said. Her husband repeated the
question.

She gathered her apron to her eyes with an unctuous sob:

"Doan't a' know when Maister Robert went! He comes, i' the house 'ere
and says, 'Becky, gie us a taste o' the red-top-and where's Jock?' He was
always thinkin' a deal o' my son Jock. 'Jock be gone,' I says, 'and I
knows nowt o' his comin' back'--meanin', I was, that day. 'Good for
Jock!' says he, 'and I'm goin' too, Becky, and I knows nowt o' my comin'
back.' 'Where be goin', Maister Robert?' I says. 'To hell, Becky,' says
he, and he laughs. 'From hell to hell. I'm sick to my teeth o' one,
I'll try t'other'--a way like that speaks he."