Part 50 (1/2)
The course which Lawless had taken when he started on his wildgoose chase was down a ride cut through the furze, and it was along this turfy track that Rose Alba was now hurrying in her wild career. The horse on which I was mounted was a young thorough-bred, standing nearly sixteen hands high, and I felt certain that in the pursuit in which I was engaged, the length of his stride would tell, and that eventually we must come up with the fugitives; but so fleet was the little Arab, and so light the weight she had to carry, that I was sorry to perceive I gained upon them but slowly. It was clear that I should not overtake them before they reached the outskirts of the common, and then who could say what course the mare might take--what obstacles might not be in her way!
On--on we go in our headlong course, the turf reechoing to the m.u.f.fled strokes of the horses' feet, while the furze, waving in the wind, seemed to glide by us in a rapid stream. Onward--still onward; the edge of the gorse appears a dark line in the distance--it is pa.s.sed; we are crossing the belt of turf that surrounds it--and now, in what direction will the mare proceed? Will she take the broad road to the left, which leads again to the open country by a gentle ascent, where she can be easily overtaken and stopped; or will she turn to the right, and follow the lane, which leads across the terrace-field to the brook, swollen by the late rains into a river? See! she slackens her pace--she wavers, she doubts--she will choose the road! No; by Heaven! she turns to the right, and das.h.i.+ng down the lane like a flash of lightning, is for a moment hidden from view. But the s.p.a.ce of time, short as it was, when her speed slackened, has enabled me to gain upon her considerably; and when I again catch sight of her she is not more than fifty yards ahead.
Forward! good horse--forward! Life or death hangs upon thy -338-- fleetness. Vain hope! another turn brings us in sight of the brook, swollen by the breaking up of the frost into a dark, turbulent stream.
f.a.n.n.y perceives it too, and utters a cry of terror, which rings like a death-knell on my ear. There seems no possibility of escape for her; on the left hand an impenetrable hedge; on the right a steep bank, rising almost perpendicularly to the height of a man's head; in front the rus.h.i.+ng water; while the mare, apparently irritated to frenzy by my pursuit, gallops wildly forward. Ha! what is that? a shout! and the figure of a man on horseback appears on the high ground to the right, between f.a.n.n.y and the stream. He perceives the danger, and if he dare attempt the leap from the bank, may yet save her. Oh! that I were in his place. Hark! he shouts again to warn us of his intention, and putting spurs to his horse, faces him boldly at it. The horse perceives the danger, and will refuse the leap. No! urged by his rider, he will take it yet--now he springs--it is certain destruction. A cras.h.!.+ a fall! they are down! No; he has lifted his horse with the rein--they are apparently uninjured. Rose Alba, startled by the sudden apparition, slackens her pace--the stranger, taking advantage of the delay, dashes forward, seizes the rein, and succeeds in stopping her; as he does so, I approached near enough to recognise his features--
[Ill.u.s.tration: page338 Lovers Leap]
Unlooked for happiness! f.a.n.n.y is saved, and Harry Oaklands is her preserver!
My first act on joining them was to spring from my horse and lift f.a.n.n.y out of the saddle. ”Are you really unhurt, my own darling?” exclaimed I; ”can you stand without a.s.sistance?”
”Oh yes!” she replied, ”it was only the fright--that dreadful river--but--” and raising her eyes timidly she advanced a step towards Oaklands.
”But you would fain thank Harry for saving you. My dear Harry,”
continued I, taking his hand and pressing it warmly, ”if you only knew the agony of mind I have suffered on her account, you would be able to form some slight idea of the amount of grat.i.tude I feel towards you for having rescued her. I shudder to think what might have been the end had you not so providentially interposed; but you do not listen to me--you turn as pale as ashes--are you ill?”
”It is nothing--a little faint, or so,” was his reply, in a voice so weak as to be scarcely audible; and as he spoke, his head dropped heavily on his shoulder, and he would have fallen from his horse had not I caught him in my arms and supported him.
-339-- Giving the horses into the custody of a farming lad (who had seen the leap, and run up, fearing some accident had occurred), I lifted Oaklands from the saddle, and laying him on the turf by the roadside, supported his head against my knee, while I endeavoured to loosen his neckcloth. Neither its removal, however, nor the unfastening his s.h.i.+rt-collar, appeared to revive him in the slightest degree, and being quite unaccustomed to seizures of this nature, I began to feel a good deal frightened about him. I suppose my face in some degree betrayed my thoughts, as f.a.n.n.y, after glancing at me for a moment, exclaimed, wringing her hands in the excess of her grief and alarm, ”Oh! he is dead--he is dead; and it is I who have killed him!” Then, flinging herself on her knees by his side, and taking his hand between both her own, she continued, ”Oh, Harry, look up--speak to me--only one word;--he does not hear me--he will never speak again! Oh! he is dead!--he is dead! and it is I who have murdered him--I, who would gladly have died for him, as he has died for me.” As she said this, her voice failed her, and, completely overcome by the idea that she had been the cause of Harry's death, she buried her face in her hands and wept bitterly.
At this moment it occurred to me that water might possibly revive him, and rousing f.a.n.n.y from the pa.s.sion of grief into which she had fallen, I made her take my place in supporting Oaklands' head, and running to the stream, which was not above fifty yards from the spot, filled my hat with water, sprinkled his face and brow with it, and had the satisfaction of seeing him gradually revive under the application.
As consciousness returned, he gazed around with a bewildered look, and pa.s.sing his hand across his forehead, inquired, ”What is all this? where am I? Ah! Frank, have I been ill?”
”You fainted from over-exertion, Harry,” replied I, ”but all will be well now.”
”From over-exertion?” he repeated, slowly, as if striving to recall what had pa.s.sed; ”stay, yes, I remember, I took a foolish leap; why did I do it?”
”To stop f.a.n.n.y's mare.”
”Yes, to be sure, the water was out at the brook, and I thought the mare might attempt to cross it; but is f.a.n.n.y safe? Where is she?”
”She is here,” replied I, turning towards the place where she still knelt, her face hidden in her hands. ”She is here to thank you for having saved her life.”
-340-- ”Why, f.a.n.n.y, was it you who were supporting my head? how very kind of you! What! crying?” he continued, gently attempting to withdraw her hands; ”nay, nay, we must not have you cry.”
”She was naturally a good deal frightened by the mare's running away,”
replied I, as f.a.n.n.y still appeared too much overcome to speak for herself; ”and then she was silly enough to fancy, when you fainted, that you were actually dead, I believe; but I can a.s.sure you that she is not ungrateful.”
”No, indeed,” murmured f.a.n.n.y, in a voice scarcely audible from emotion.
”Why, it was no very great feat after all,” rejoined Harry. ”On such a jumper as the Cid, and coming down on soft marshy ground too, 1 would not mind the leap any day; besides, do you think I was going to remain quietly there, and see f.a.n.n.y drowned before my eyes? if it had been a precipice, I would have gone over it.” While he spoke, Harry had regained his feet; and, after walking up and down for a minute or so, and giving himself a shake, to see if he was all right, he declared that he felt quite strong again, and able to ride home. And so, having devised a leading-rein for Rose Alba, one end of which I kept in my own possession, we remounted our horses, and reached Heathfield without further misadventure.
CHAPTER XLIII -- A CHARADE--NOT ALL ACTING
”And then, and much it helped his chance-- He could sing, and play first fiddle, and dance-- Perform charades, and proverbs of France.”
--_Hood_.