Clergy -- Fiction; Love stories; Scotland -- Fiction
He found himself walking in a lake, and now even the instinct of
self-preservation must have been flickering, for he waded on,
rejoicing merely in getting rid of the dog. Something in the water
rose and struck him. Instead of stupefying him, the blow brought him
to his senses, and he struggled for his life. The ground slipped
beneath his feet many times, but at last he was out of the water. That
he was out in a flood he did not realize; yet he now acted like one in
full possession of his faculties. When his feet sank in water, he drew
back; and many times he sought shelter behind banks and rocks, first
testing their firmness with his hands. Once a torrent of stones,
earth, and heather carried him down a hillside until he struck against
a tree. He twined his arms round it, and had just done so when it fell
with him. After that, when he touched trees growing in water, he fled
from them, thus probably saving himself from death.
What he heard now might have been the roll and crack of the thunder.
It sounded in his ear like nothing else. But it was really something
that swept down the hill in roaring spouts of water, and it passed on
both sides of him so that at one moment, had he paused, it would have
crashed into him, and at another he was only saved by stopping. He
felt that the struggle in the dark was to go on till the crack of
doom.
Then he cast himself upon the ground. It moved beneath him like some
great animal, and he rose and stole away from it. Several times did
this happen. The stones against which his feet struck seemed to
acquire life from his touch. So strong had he become, or so weak all
other things, that whatever clump he laid hands on by which to pull
himself out of the water was at once rooted up.
The daylight would not come. He longed passionately for it. He tried
to remember what it was like, and could not; he had been blind so
long. It was away in front somewhere, and he was struggling to
overtake it. He expected to see it from a dark place, when he would
rush forward to bathe his arms in it, and then the elements that were
searching the world for him would see him and he would perish. But
death did not seem too great a penalty to pay for light.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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