The O'Donoghue Part 8

"I half thought so, too," replied his daughter; "but I can see no one near. There it is again!"

They halted and listened; but the swelling uproar of the waterfalls drowned every sound, and they spurred forward once more, fearing to loiter longer; yet, both as they went, thought they could trace the words, "come back, come back;" but from some strange dread of communicating fears that might not be real, neither told the other.

"He said the left side of the valley; but surely he mistook: see how the water has gained here, and the opposite bank seems dry."

"Let us follow the advice, father," cried Sybella, "we have no guidance save his; he could not--would not deceive us, Is it not grand! with all its danger, I can admire it."

As she spoke, a tremendous clap of thunder broke above their heads, and made the valley tremble with the sound, while, as if by the shock the charged clouds were rent open, and the rain descended in torrents. With the swooping gush of the ocean spray, storm-lashed and drifted, the rain came down, wrapping in misty darkness every object around them. And now, the swollen cataracts tore madly down the mountain sides, leaping from crag to crag, and rending the clayey soil in deep clefts and gashes.

Again the thunder pealed out, and every echo sent hack the sound, till the whole glen vibrated with the deafening clamour. Still they sped onward. The terrified horses strained every limb, and dashing madly on--mid rock and rushing water they went, now, clearing at a bound the course of some gushing stream--now, breasting the beating rain with vigorous chest.

The storm increased; the howling wind joined with the deep-toned thunder into one long continuous roar, that seemed to shake the very air itself.

"Yonder!" said the father, as he pointed to the tall dark pinnacle of rock, known by the country people as "the Pulpit"--"yonder!"

Sybella strained her eye to see through the dense beating rain, and at last caught sight of the huge ma.s.s, around whose summit the charged clouds were flying.

"We must cross the river in this place," said the old man, as he suddenly checked his horse, and looked with terrified gaze on the swollen stream that came boiling and foaming over to where they stood, with branches of trees and fragments of rock rolling onward in the tide.

"The youth told us of this spot."

"Let us not hesitate, father," cried the young girl, with a tone of firm, resolute daring she had not used before--"remember what he said, a minute may save or ruin us. Great heaven! what is that?"

A terrific shriek followed her words, and she fell with her head upon her horse's mane; a broad flash of lightning had burst from a dark cloud, and came with vivid force upon her eyeb.a.l.l.s.

"Father, dear father, my sight is gone," she screamed aloud, as lifting up her head she rubbed the orbs now paralyzed by the shock.

"My child, my child!" cried the old man, with the piercing shriek of a breaking heart; "look on me, look towards me. Oh, say that you can see me, now--my brain is turning."

"Oh G.o.d, I thank thee!" said the terrified girl, as once more her vision was restored, and, dimly, objects began to form themselves before her.

With bare head and upturned eyes, the aged man looked up, and poured forth his prayer of thankfulness to heaven. The raging storm beat on his brow unfelt; his thoughts were soaring to the Throne of Mercies, and knew not earth, nor all its sorrows.

A clap of thunder at the moment broke from the dense cloud above them, and then, in quick succession, like the pealing of artillery, came several more, while the forked lightning shot to and fro, and at last, as if the very earth was riven to its centre, a low booming sound was heard amid the clouds; the darkness grew thicker, and a crash followed that shook the ground beneath them, and splashed the wild waves on every side. The spray sprung madly up, while the roaring of the stream grew louder; the clouds swept past, and the tall Pulpit rock was gone! Struck by lightning, it had rolled from its centre, and fallen across the river, the gushing waters of which poured over it in floods, and fell in white sheets of foam and spray beyond it.

"G.o.d is near us, my child," said the old man with fervour; "let us onward."

Her streaming eyes turned on him one look of affection--the emblem of a heart's love--and she prepared to follow.

To return was now impossible, the river had already extended the whole way across the valley in the rear; the only chance of safety lay in front.

"Keep by my side, dearest," said the father, as he rode first into the stream, and tried to head the terrified animal against the current.

"I am near you, father, fear not for me," said she firmly, her hold heart nerved to the danger.

For some seconds the affrighted horses seemed rooted to the earth, and stood amid the boiling current as if spell-bound; a fragment of a tree, however, in its course, struck the flank of the leading horse, and he sprung madly forward, followed by the other. Now, breasting the stream--now, sinking to the mane beneath it, the n.o.ble beasts struggled fiercely on till near the spot, where the Pulpit-rock had left a s.p.a.ce between it and the opposite bank, and here, a vast volume of water now poured along unchecked by any barrier.

"To my side--near me, dearest--near me," cried the father, as his horse dashed into the seething flood and sunk above the crest beneath it.

"I cannot, father--I cannot," screamed the affrighted girl, as with a bound of terror her horse sprang back from the chasm, and refused to follow. The old man heard not the words--the current had swept him far down into the stream, amid the rent branches and the rolling rocks--"My child, my child," the only accents heard above the raging din.

Twice did the heroic girl try to face the current, but in vain--the horse plunged wildly up and threatened to fall back, when suddenly through the white foam a figure struggled on and grasped the bridle at the head; next moment, a man leaped forward and was breasting the surge before her--

"Head the stream--head the stream if you can," cried he, who still held on, while the wild waves washed over him; but the poor horse, rendered unmanageable through fear, had yielded to the current, and was now each moment nearing the cataract.

"Cling to me, now," cried the youth, as with the strength of desperation he tore the girl from the saddle, while with the other hand he grasped an ash bough that hung drooping above his head. As he did so, the mare bounded forward--the waves closed over her, and she was carried over the precipice.

"Cling fast to me, and we are safe," cried the youth, and with vigorous grasp he held on the tree, and thus supported, breasted the stream and reached the bank. Exhausted and worn out, both mind and body powerless, they both fell senseless on the gra.s.s.

The last shriek of despair broke from the father's heart as the horse, bereft of rider, swept past him in the flood. The cry aroused the fainting girl; she half rose to her feet and called upon him. The next moment they were locked in each other's arms.

"It was he who saved me, father," said she in accents broken with joy and sorrow; "he risked his life for mine."

The youth recovered consciousness as the old man pressed him to his heart.

"Is she safe?" were the first words he said as he stared around him vaguely, and then, as if overcome, he fell heavily back upon the sward.

A joyous cheer broke forth from several voices near, and at the instant, several country people were seen coming forward, with Terry at their head.

"Here we are--here we are, and in good time too," cried Terry; "and if it wasn't that you took a fool's advice, we'd have gone the other road.

The carriage is in the glen, my lady," said he, kneeling down beside Sybella, who still remained clasped in her father's arms.

By this time, some of Sir Marmaduke's servants had reached the spot, and by them the old man and his daughter were a.s.sisted toward the high road, while two others carried the poor youth, by this time totally unable to make the least exertion.

"This brave boy--this n.o.ble fellow," said Sir Marmaduke, as he stooped to kiss the pale high forehead, from which the wet hair hung backwards--"Can no one tell me who he is?"

"He's the young O'Donoghue," replied a half dozen voices together; "a good warrant for courage or bravery any day."

"The O'Donoghue!" repeated Sir Marmaduke, vainly endeavouring in the confusion of the moment to recall the name, and where he had heard it.

"Ay, the O'Donoghue," shouted a coa.r.s.e voice near him, as a new figure rode up on a small mountain pony. "It oughtn't to be a strange name in these parts. Rouse yourself, Master Herbert, rouse up, my child--sure it isn't a wettin' would cow you this way?"

"What! Kerry, is this you?" said the youth faintly, as he looked around him with half-closed eyelids. "Where's my father?"

"Faix, he's snug at the parlour fire, my darlin', where his son ought to be, if he wasn't turning guide on the mountains, to the enemy of his kith and kin."

These words were said in a whisper, but with an energy that made the boy start from the arms of those who bore him.

"Here's the pony, Master Herbert, get up on him, and be off at once; sure there isn't a blackguard there, with lace on his coat, wouldn't be laughing at your old clothes when the light comes."

Sir Marmaduke and his daughter were a few paces in advance as these words were spoken, the old baronet giving directions for bestowing every care and attention on one he deemed his guest.

The boy, ashamed and offended both, yielded to the counsel, and suffered himself to be placed upon the saddle.

"Now, then, hould fast, and I'll guide him," said Kerry, as elbowing the crowd right and left, he sprung forward at a run, and in less than a minute had disappeared in the darkness.

Sir Marmaduke became distracted at the loss of his benefactor, and message after message was despatched to bring him back, but all in vain; Kerry and his pony had already gained so much in advance, none could overtake them.

"To-morrow then, my child," said Sir Marmaduke, "to-morrow will, I hope, enable me to speak my grat.i.tude, though I shall not sleep well to-night--I never rested with so heavy a debt unpaid before."

And with these words they slowly wended their way homeward.