Godolphin, Volume 6.Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
Godolphin, Volume 6.
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Down fell the black rain in torrents; and far from the mountains you might
hear the rushing of the swollen streams, as they poured into the bosom of
the valleys. The sullen, continued mass of cloud was broken, and the
vapours hurried fast and louring over the heavens, leaving now and then a
star to glitter forth ere again "the jaws of darkness did devour it up."
At the lower verge of the horizon, the lightning flashed fierce, but at
lingering intervals; the trees rocked and groaned beneath the rain and
storm; and, immediately above the bowed head of a solitary horseman, broke
the thunder that, amidst the whirl of his own emotions, he scarcely heard.
Beside a stream, which the rains had already swelled, was a gipsy
encampment; and as some of the dusky itinerants, waiting perhaps the
return of a part of their band from a predatory excursion, cowered over
the flickering fires in their tent, they perceived the horseman rapidly
approaching the stream.
"See to yon gentry cove," cried one of the band; "'tis the same we saw in
the forenight crossing the ford above. He has taken a short cut, the
buzzard! and will have to go round again to the ford; a precious time to
be gallivanting about!"
"Pish!" said an old hag; "I love to see the proud ones tasting the bitter
wind and rain as we bear alway; 'tis but a mile longer round to the ford.
I wish it was twenty."
"Hallo!" cried the first speaker; "the fool takes to the water. He'll be
drowned; the banks are too high and rough to land man or horse yonder.
Hallo!" and with that painful sympathy which the hardest feel at the
imminent peril of another when immediately subjected to their eyes, the
gipsy ran forth into the pelting storm, shouting to the traveller to halt.
For one moment Godolphin's steed still shrunk back from the rushing tide:
deep darkness was over the water; and the horseman saw not the height of
the opposite banks. The shout of the gipsy sounded to his ear like the
cry of the dead whom he had left: he dashed his heels into the sides of
the reluctant horse, and was in the stream.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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