"Go, Calvin!" she said, with an effort, her eyes still upon the floor;
"if you would ever do me any aid, go now!"
As he passed into the passageway Calvin Van de Lear ran against a man
with a crutch and a wooden leg, who looked at him from under a head of
dark-red hair, and in a low voice cursed his awkwardness. The man bent
to pick up his crutch, and Calvin observed that he was badly scarred and
had one eyebrow higher than the other.
"Who are you, fellow?" asked Calvin, surprised.
"I'm Dogcatcher!" said the man. "When ye see me coming, take the other
side of the street."
Calvin felt cowed, not so much at these mysterious words as at a hard,
lowering look in the man's face, like especial dislike.
Agnes Wilt, still sitting in the parlor, saw the lame servant pass her
door, going out, and he looked in and touched his hat, and paused a
minute. Something graceful and wistful together seemed to be in his
bearing and countenance.
"Anything for me?" asked Agnes.
"Nothing at all, mum! When there's nobody by to do a job, call on Mike."
He still seemed to tarry, and in Agnes's nervous condition a mysterious
awe came over her; the man's gaze had a dread fascination that would not
let her drop her eyes. As he passed out of sight and shut the street
door behind him Agnes felt a fainting feeling, as if an apparition had
looked in upon her and vanished--the apparition, if of anything, of him
who had lain dead in that very parlor--the stern, enamored master of the
house whose fatherhood in a fateful moment had turned to marital desire,
and crushed the luck of all the race of Zanes.
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