Godolphin, Volume 4.Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
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Godolphin, Volume 4.
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
And she thought that she continued to move involuntarily along the waste;
and that, ever and anon, she yearned and strove to rest, but her limbs did
not obey her will, and a power she could not control urged her onward.
And now there was no longer an utter dumbness and death over the scene.
Forth from the sands, as from the bowels of the reluctant earth, there
crept, one by one, loathly and reptile shapes; obscene sounds rang in her
ears--now in a hideous mockery, now in a yet more sickening solicitation.
Shapes of terror thickened and crowded round her. She was roused by dread
into action; she hurried faster and faster; she strove to escape; and ever
as she fled, the sounds grew louder, and the persecuting shapes more
ghastly,--abominations which her pure mind shuddered to behold, presented
themselves at every turn: there was no spot for refuge, no cave for
concealment. Wearied and despairing, she stopped short; but then the
shapes and sounds seemed gradually to lose their terror; her eye and ear
became familiar to them; and what at first seemed foes, grew into
companions.
And now, again, the wilderness was gone; she stood in a strange spot, and
opposite, and gazing upon her with intent and mournful eyes, stood
Godolphin. But he seemed much older than he was, and the traces of care
were ploughed deeply on his countenance; and above them both hung a
motionless and livid cloud; and from the cloud a gigantic hand was
stretched forth, pointing with a shadowy and unmoving finger towards a
quarter of the earth which was enveloped in a thick gloom. While she
sought with straining eyes, to penetrate the darkness of the spot thus
fearfully marked out, she thought Godolphin vanished, and all was suddenly
and utter night--night, but not stillness--for there was a roar as of many
winds, and a dashing of angry waters, that seemed close beneath; and she
heard the trees groan and bend, and felt the icy and rushing air: the
tempests were abroad. But amidst the mingling of the mighty sounds, she
heard distinctly the ringing of a horse's hoofs; and presently a wild cry,
in which she recognised the voice of Godolphin, rang forth, adding to the
wrath of nature the yet more appalling witness of a human despair. The
cry was followed by the louder dashing of the waves, and the fiercer
turmoil of the winds; and then her anguish and horror freeing her from the
Prison of Sleep, she woke.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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