"We have made our roads," he thought, "Aymer and I, and thank G.o.d we leave behind us a better Roadmaker still, who will make smooth paths for the children"s feet."
Outside two white figures came slowly towards the house and were joined by a third, Nevil, to judge by his height.
"Caesar," said Christopher, "have you forgiven me taking my own way and giving up what you gave me?"
"Do you think I see anything to forgive in it?"
"You gave me my choice, and you gave me my chance. It looked on the surface so ungrateful," persisted Christopher.
"You question the quality of my eyesight?"
"I doubt your forgiveness when you are so flippant, my best of fathers."
"For what do you want forgiveness specifically?"
"For giving up my work as a Roadmaker."
"I did not know you had given it up."
In the quiet hours of the night Aymer Aston paced those even roads his feet had never trodden, saw them spreading far and wide across the earth, heard the echo of countless footsteps stepping down the ages, knew that life itself was made an easier road for thousands of little feet that would take their first steps on better ground than their parents had done, knew that there were less crippled, less maimed, less halt in the sum total of the world"s suffering by reason of one Roadmaker"s career.
But it was Aymer Aston with the crippled form and maimed life who had put the spade first into the Roadmaker"s hand.
Meanwhile the Roadmaker slept the sleep of the just and forgot all these things.