Mary Anerley: A Yorkshire TaleBlackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
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Mary Anerley: A Yorkshire Tale
Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge)
Yorkshire (England) -- Fiction
Old Dukie drove on with all his might and main, and the stout spirit
which engenders strength, till he came to a white wall reared before
him, twice as high as his snow-capped head, and swirling like a billow
of the sea with drift. Here he stopped short, for he had his own rein,
and turned his clouted neck, and asked his master what to make of it.
“We must 'a come at last to Stormy Gap: it might be worse, and it might
be better. Rocks o' both sides, and no way round. No choice but to get
through it, or to spend the night inside of it. You and I are a pretty
good weight, old Dukie. We'll even try a charge for it, afore we knock
under. We can't have much more smother than we've gotten already. My
father was taken like this, I've heard tell, in the service of old
Squire Philip; and he put his nag at it, and scumbled through. But first
you get up your wind, old chap.”
Marmaduke seemed to know what was expected of him; for he turned round,
retreated a few steps, and then stood panting. Then Jordas dismounted,
as well as he could with his windward leg nearly frozen. He smote
himself lustily, with both arms swinging, upon his broad breast, and he
stamped in the snow till he felt his tingling feet again. Then he took
up the skirt of his thick heavy coat, and wiped down the head, mane,
and shoulders of the horse, and the great pile of snow upon the crupper.
“Start clear is a good word,” he said.
For a moment he stopped to consider the forlorn hope of his last
resolution. “About me, there is no such great matter,” he thought; “but
if I was to kill Dukie, who would ever hear the last of it? And what a
good horse he have been, to be sure! But if I was to leave him so, the
crows would only have him. We be both in one boat; we must try of it.”
He said a little prayer, which was all he knew, for himself and a lass
he had a liking to, who lived in a mill upon the river Lune; and then
he got into the saddle again, and set his teeth hard, and spoke to
Marmaduke, a horse who would never be touched with a spur. “Come on, old
chap,” was all he said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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