It is now Thursday evening,
twenty-five minutes past seven. At this hour and minute, on Thursday
next, love and fate shall smile on me, or I will drink my last pint of
port in this world.'
Mr Glowry ordered his travelling chariot, and departed from the abbey.
* * * * *
CHAPTER XV
The day after Mr Glowry's departure was one of incessant rain, and
Scythrop repented of the promise he had given. The next day was one of
bright sunshine: he sat on the terrace, read a tragedy of Sophocles,
and was not sorry, when Raven announced dinner, to find himself alive.
On the third evening, the wind blew, and the rain beat, and the owl
flapped against his windows; and he put a new flint in his pistol. On
the fourth day, the sun shone again; and he locked the pistol up in a
drawer, where he left it undisturbed, till the morning of the eventful
Thursday, when he ascended the turret with a telescope, and spied
anxiously along the road that crossed the fens from Claydyke: but
nothing appeared on it. He watched in this manner from ten A.M. till
Raven summoned him to dinner at five; when he stationed Crow at the
telescope, and descended to his own funeral-feast. He left open the
communications between the tower and turret, and called aloud at
intervals to Crow,--'Crow, Crow, is any thing coming?' Crow answered,
'The wind blows, and the windmills turn, but I see nothing coming;'
and, at every answer, Scythrop found the necessity of raising his
spirits with a bumper.
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