It was then plainly Toby's
opinion that, while they might not take quite so much time to christen
as to marry, there was still no need to rush off with the priest's
vestments out of order and his own fetlocks weighted with mire. The two
had many friendly contests on these occasions, but Toby's will was the
stronger, and his temper was not quite so mild; and as it is always the
less amiable who wins, it was commonly he who won, in the long run.
Whenever the way before them was not quite clear, Father Orin would let
Toby lead, and only once in all their long pilgrimage together did he
ever fail to lead aright. It was on a wild winter's night, and neither
could see either heaven or earth; yet on against the bitter wind went
the priest and his horse, Toby stretching his fullest length at the top
of his speed, and Father Orin bending low to escape the boughs of unseen
trees; and thus they sped through the stormy blackness. Faster still
they went, up hill and down hill, leaping fallen trees, flying across
the hollows made by the uptorn roots, swimming swollen streams, while
the priest knelt on the saddle, holding the Viaticum high above the
rushing water which dashed over his knees.
Pages:
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256