The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 05Stevenson, Robert Louis
General
The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 05
Stevenson, Robert Louis
English literature -- 19th century; Fiction
My father was unable to resist her tender violence; and though I could
see he nourished not one spark of hope, he consented to desert his whole
estate, beyond some hundreds of dollars that he had by him at the
moment, and to flee that night, which promised to be dark and cloudy. As
soon as the servants were asleep, he was to load two mules with
provisions; two others were to carry my mother and myself; and, striking
through the mountains by an unfrequented trail, we were to make a fair
stroke for liberty and life. As soon as they had thus decided, I showed
myself at the window, and, owning that I had heard all, assured them
that they could rely on my prudence and devotion. I had no fear, indeed,
but to show myself unworthy of my birth; I held my life in my hand
without alarm; and when my father, weeping upon my neck, had blessed
Heaven for the courage of his child, it was with a sentiment of pride
and some of the joy that warriors take in war, that I began to look
forward to the perils of our flight.
Before midnight, under an obscure and starless heaven, we had left far
behind us the plantations of the valley, and were mounting a certain
canon in the hills, narrow, encumbered with great rocks, and echoing
with the roar of a tumultuous torrent. Cascade after cascade thundered
and hung up its flag of whiteness in the night, or fanned our faces with
the wet wind of its descent. The trail was break-neck, and led to
famine-guarded deserts; it had been long since deserted for more
practicable routes; and it was now a part of the world untrod from year
to year by human footing. Judge of our dismay when, turning suddenly an
angle of the cliffs, we found a bright bonfire blazing by itself under
an impending rock; and on the face of the rock, drawn very rudely with
charred wood, the great Open Eye which is the emblem of the Mormon
faith. We looked upon each other in the firelight; my mother broke into
a passion of tears; but not a word was said. The mules were turned
about; and leaving that great eye to guard the lonely canon, we
retraced our steps in silence. Day had not yet broken ere we were once
more at home, condemned beyond reprieve.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account