Matilda Montgomerie Or The Prophecy Fulfilled Part 33

The horror and dismay depicted in his friend's countenance were speedily reflected on his own, when he saw that the unfortunate Gerald, whose blood had completely saturated the earth on which he lay, was indeed no more. Language at such a moment would not only have been superfluous, but an insult. De Courcy caught and pressed the hand of his friend in silence. The unfortunate young man pointed to the dead body of his brother, and burst into tears. While these were yet flowing in a fulness that promised to give relief to his oppressed heart, a loud shout from the British ranks arrested the attention of both. The sound seemed to have an electric effect on the actions of Henry Grantham. For the first time he appeared conscious there was such a thing as a battle being fought.

"De Courcy," he said, starting up, and with sudden animation, "why do we linger here? The dead"--and he pointed first to the body of the General in the distance, and then to his brother--"the wretched dead claim no service from us now."

"You are right, Henry, our interest in those beloved objects has caused us to be heedless of our duty to ourselves. Victory is our own--but alas! how dearly purchased!"

"How dearly purchased, indeed!" responded Henry, in a tone of such heart-rending agony as caused his friend to repent the allusion. "De Courcy, keep this packet, and should I fall, let it be sent to my uncle, Colonel D'Egville."

De Courcy accepted the trust, and the young men mounted their horses, which a Canadian peasant had held for them in the meantime, and dashing up the ascent, soon found themselves where the action was hottest.

"Forward! victory!" shouted Henry Grantham, and his sword was plunged deep into the side of his nearest enemy. The man fell, and writhing in the last agonies of death, rolled onward to the precipice, and disappeared for ever from the view.

The words, the action--had excited the attention of a tall, muscular, ferocious-looking rifleman, who, hotly pursued by a couple of Indians, was crossing the open ground at his full speed to join the main body of his comrades. A ball struck him just as he had arrived within a few feet of the spot where Henry stood, yet still leaping onward, he made a desperate blow at the head of the officer with the b.u.t.t end of his rifle. A quick movement disappointed the American of his aim, yet the blow fell so violently on the shoulder, that the stock snapped suddenly asunder at the small of the b.u.t.t. Stung with pain, Henry Grantham turned to behold his enemy. It was Desborough! The features of the settler expressed the most savage and vindictive pa.s.sions, as, with the head of the rifle upraised and clenched in both his iron hands, he was about to repeat his blow. Ere it could descend Grantham had rushed in upon him, and his sword, still reeking in the blood it had so recently spilt, was driven to the very hilt in the body of the settler. The latter uttered a terrific scream in which all the most infernal of human pa.s.sions were wildly blended, and casting aside his rifle, seized the young officer in his powerful gripe. Then ensued a contest the most strange and awful, the settler using every endeavor to gain the edge of the precipice, the other struggling, but in vain, to release himself from his hold. As if by tacit consent, both parties discontinued the struggle, and became mere spectators of the scene.

"Villain!" shouted De Courcy, who saw with dismay the terrible object of the settler, whose person he had recognised--"if you would have quarter, release your hold."

But Desborough, too much given to his revenge to heed the words of the Aide-de-camp, continued silently, yet with advantage, to drag his victim nearer and nearer to the fatal precipice; and every man in the British ranks felt his blood to creep, as he beheld the unhappy officer borne, notwithstanding a desperate resistance, at each moment nigher to the brink.

"For Heaven's sake, men, advance and seize him," exclaimed the terrified De Courcy, leaping forward to the rescue.

Acting on the hint, two or three of the most active of the light infantry rushed from the ranks in the direction taken by the officer.

Desborough saw the movement, and his exertions to defeat it became, considering the loss of blood he had sustained from his wounds, almost herculean. He now stood on the extreme verge of the precipice, where he paused for a moment as if utterly exhausted by his previous efforts. De Courcy was now within a few feet of his unhappy friend, who still struggled ineffectually to free himself, when the settler, suddenly collecting all his energy into a final and desperate effort, raised the unfortunate Gerald from the ground, and with a loud and exulting laugh, dashed his foot violently against the edge of the crag, and threw himself backward into the hideous abyss.

Their picked and whitened bones may be seen even to this day, confounded together and shining through the gloom that pervades every part of the abyss, and often may be remarked an aged and decrepit negro, seated on a rock a few feet above them, leaning his elbows upon his knees, and gazing eagerly as if to distinguish the bones of the one from the bones of the other.

AND THUS WAS THE FEARFUL PROPHECY OF ELLEN HALLOWAY, THE MOTHER OF DESBOROUGH BY WACOUSTA, FULFILLED!

THE END.