CHAPTER LXXXVII.
THE HUNT FOR VARNEY.--THE HOUSE-TOPS.--THE MIRACULOUS ESCAPE.--THE LASTPLACE OF REFUGE.--THE COTTAGE.
On the tree tops the moon shines brightly, and the long shadows areshooting its rays down upon the waters, and the green fields appearclothed in a flood of silver light; the little town was quiet andtranquil--nature seemed at rest.
The old mansion in which Sir Francis Varney had taken refuge, stoodempty and solitary; it seemed as though it were not associated with theothers by which it was surrounded. It was gloomy, and in the moonlightit reminded one of things long gone by, existences that had once been,but now no longer of this present time--a mere memento of the past.
Sir Francis Varney reclined upon the house-top; he gazed upon the sky,and upon the earth; he saw the calm tranquillity that reigned around,and could not but admire what he saw; he sighed, he seemed to sigh, froma pleasure he felt in the fact of his security; he could repose therewithout fear, and breathe the balmy air that fanned his cheek.
"Certainly," he muttered, "things might have been worse, but not muchworse; however, they might have been much better; the ignorant areaway--the most to be feared, because they have no guide and no control,save what can be exerted over them by their fears and their passions."
He paused to look again over the scene, and, as far as the eye couldreach, and that, moonlight as it was, was many miles, the country wasdiversified with hill and dale, meadow and ploughed land; the openfields, and the darker woods, and the silvery stream that ran at nogreat distance, all presented a scene that was well calculated to warmthe imagination, and to give the mind that charm which a cultivatedunderstanding is capable of receiving.
There was but one thing wanted to make such a scene one of purehappiness, and that was all absence of care of fears for the future andthe wants of life.
Suddenly there was a slight sound that came from the town. It was veryslight, but the ears of Sir Francis Varney were painfully acute of late;the least sound that came across him was heard in a moment, and hiswhole visage was changed to one of listening interest.
The sound was hushed; but his attention was not lulled, for he had beenplaced in circumstances that made all his vigilance necessary for hisown preservation. Hence it was, what another would have passed over, ornot heard at all, he both heard and noticed. He was not sure of thenature of the sound, it was so slight and so indistinct.
There it was again! Some persons were moving about in the town. Thesounds that came upon the night air seemed to say that there was anunusual bustle in the town, which was, to Sir Francis Varney, ominous inthe extreme.
What could people in such a quiet, retired place require out at such anhour at night? It must be something very unusual--something that mustexcite them to a great degree; and Sir Francis began to feel veryuneasy.
"They surely," he muttered to himself--"they surely cannot have foundout my hiding place, and intend to hunt me from it, the blood-thirstyhounds! they are never satisfied. The mischief they are permitted to doon one occasion is but the precursor to another. The taste has causedthe appetite for more, and nothing short of his blood can satisfy it."
The sounds increased, and the noise came nearer and nearer, and itappeared as though a number of men had collected together and werecoming towards him. Yes, they were coming down the lane towards thedeserted mansion where he was.
For once in his life, Sir Francis Varney trembled; he felt sick atheart, though no man was less likely to give up hope and to despair thanhe; yet this sign of unrelenting hatred and persecution was toounequivocal and too stern not to produce its effect upon even his mind;for he had no doubt but that they were coming with the express purposeof seeking him.
How they could have found him out was a matter he could not imagine. TheBannerworths could not have betrayed him--he was sure of that; and yetwho could have seen him, so cautious and so careful as he had been, andso very sparing had he lived, because he would not give the slightestcause for all that was about to follow. He hoped to have hidden himself;but now he could hear the tramp of men distinctly, and their voices camenow on the night air, though it was in a subdued tone, as if they weredesirous of approaching unheard and unseen by their victim.
Sir Francis Varney stirred not from his position. He remained silent andmotionless. He appeared not to heed what was going on; perhaps he hopedto see them go by--to be upon some false scent; or, if they saw no signsof life, they might leave the place, and go elsewhere.
Hark! they stop at the house--they go not by; they seem to pause, andthen a thundering knock came at the door, which echoed and re-echoedthrough the empty and deserted house, on the top of which sat, in silentexpectation, the almost motionless Sir Francis Varney, the redoubtedvampyre.
The knock which came so loud and so hard upon the door caused Sir
Francis to start visibly, for it seemed his own knell. Then, as if themob were satisfied with their knowledge of his presence, and of theirvictory, and of his inability to escape them, they sent up a loud shoutthat filled the whole neighbourhood with its sound.
It seemed to come from below and around the house; it rose from allsides, and that told Sir Francis Varney that the house was surroundedand all escape was cut off; there was no chance of his being able torush through such a multitude of men as that which now encircled him.
With the calmest despair, Sir Francis Varney lay still and motionless onthe house-top, and listened to the sounds that proceeded from below.Shout after shout arose on the still, calm air of the night; knock afterknock came upon the stout old door, which awakened responsive echoesthroughout the house that had for many years lain dormant, and which nowseemed disturbed, and resounded in hollow murmurs to the voices fromwithout.
Then a loud voice shouted from below, as if to be heard by any one whomight be within,--
"Sir Francis Varney, the vampyre, come out and give yourself up atdiscretion! If we have to search for you, you may depend it will be topunish you; you will suffer by burning. Come out and give yourself up."
There was a pause, and then a loud shout.
Sir Francis Varney paid no attention to this summons, but sat,motionless, on the house-top, where he could hear all that passed belowin the crowd.
"He will not come out," said one.
"Ah! he's much too cunning to be caught in such a trap. Why, he knowswhat you would do with him; he knows you would stake him, and make abonfire about him."
"So he has no taste for roasting," remarked another; "but still, it's nouse hiding; we have too many hands, and know the house too well to beeasily baffled."
"That may be; and, although he don't like burning, yet we will unearththe old fox, somehow or other; we have discovered his haunt at last, andcertainly we'll have him out."
"How shall we get in?"
"Knock in the door--break open the door! the front door--that is thebest, because it leads to all parts of the house, and we can secure anyone who attempts to move from one to the other, as they come down."
"Hurrah!" shouted several men in the crowd.
"Hurrah!" echoed the mob, with one accord, and the shout rent the air,and disturbed the quietude and serenity that scarce five minutes beforereigned through the place.
Then, as if actuated by one spirit, they all set to work to force thedoor in. It was strong, and capable of great defence, and employed them,with some labour, for fifteen or twenty minutes, and then, with a loudcrash, the door fell in.
"Hurrah!" again shouted the crowd.
These shouts announced the fall of the door, and then, and not untilthen, did Sir Francis Varney stir.
"They have broken in the door," he muttered, "well, if die I must, Iwill sell my life dearly. However, all is not yet lost, and, in thestruggle for life, the loss is not so much felt."
He got up, and crept towards the trap that led into the house, or out ofit, as the occasion might require.
"The vampyre! the vampyre!" shouted a man who stood on a garden wall,holding on by the arm of an
apple-tree.
"Varney, the vampyre!" shouted a second.
"Hurrah! boys, we are on the right scent; now for a hunt; hurrah! weshall have him now."
They rushed in a tumultuous riot up the stone steps, and into the hall.It was a large, spacious place, with a grand staircase that led up tothe upper floor, but it had two ends, and then terminated in a gallery.
It could not be defended by one man, save at the top, where it could notlong be held, because the assailants could unite, and throw their wholeweight against the entrance, and thus storm it. This actually happened.
They looked up, and, seeing nobody, they rushed up, some by one stair,and some by the other; but it was dark; there were but few of the moon'srays that pierced the gloom of that place, and those who first reachedthe place which we have named, were seized with astonishment, staggered,and fell.
Sir Francis Varney had met them; he stood there with a staff--somethinghe had found about the house--not quite so long as a broom-handle, butsomewhat thicker and heavier, being made of stout ash.
This formidable weapon, Sir Francis Varney wielded with strength andresolution; he was a tall man, and one of no mean activity and personalstrength, and such a weapon, in his hands, was one of a most fearfulcharacter, and, for the occasion, much better than his sword.
Man after man fell beneath the fearful brace of these blows, for thoughthey could not see Sir Francis, yet he could see them, or thehall-lights were behind them at the time, while he stood in the dark,and took advantage of this to deal murderous blows upon his assailants.
This continued for some minutes, till they gave way before such avigorous defence, and paused.
"On, neighbours, on," cried one; "will you be beaten off by one man?Rush in at once and you must force him from his position--push him hard,and he must give way."
"Ay," said one fellow who sat upon the ground rubbing his head; "it'sall very well to say push him hard, but if you felt the weight of thatd----d pole on your head, you wouldn't be in such a blessed hurry."
However true that might be, there was but little attention paid to it,and a determined rush was made at the entrance to the gallery, and theyfound that it was unoccupied; and that was explained by the slamming ofa door, and its being immediately locked upon them; and when the mobcame to the door, they found they had to break their way through anotherdoor.
This did not take long in effecting; and in less than five minutes theyhad broken through that door which led into another room; but the firstman who entered it fell from a crashing blow on the head from the ashenstaff of Sir Francis Varney, who hurried and fled, closely pursued,until he came to another door, through which he dashed.
Here he endeavoured to make a stand and close it, but was immediatelystruck and grappled with; but he threw his assailant, and turned andfled again.
His object had been to defend each inch of the ground as long as he wasable; but he found they came too close upon his steps, and prevented histurning in time to try the strength of his staff upon the foremost.
He dashed up the first staircase with surprising rapidity, leaving hispursuers behind; and when he had gained the first landing, he turnedupon those who pursued him, who could hardly follow him two abreast.
"Down with the vampyre!" shouted the first, who rushed up heedless ofthe staff.
"Down with a fool!" thundered Varney, as he struck the fellow a terrificblow, which covered his face with blood, and he fell back into the armsof his companions.
A bitter groan and execration arose from them below, and again theyshouted, and rushed up headlong.
"Down with the vampyre!" was again shouted, and met by a corresponding,but deep guttural sound of--
"Down with a fool!"
And sure enough the first again came to the earth without anypreparation, save the application of an ashen stick to his skull, which,by-the-bye, no means aided the operation of thinking.
Several more shared a similar fate; but they pressed hard, and SirFrancis was compelled to give ground to keep them at the necessarylength from him, as they rushed on regardless of his blows, and if hehad not he would soon have been engaged in a personal struggle, for theywere getting too close for him to use the staff.
"Down with the vampyre!" was the renewed cry, as they drove him fromspot to spot until he reached the roof of the house, and then he ran upthe steps to the loft, which he had just reached when they came up tothe bottom.
Varney attempted to draw the ladder up but four or five stout men heldthat down; then by a sudden turn, as they were getting up, he turned itover, threw those on it down, and the ladder too, upon the heads ofthose who were below.
"Down with the vampyre!" shouted the mob, as they, with the mostuntiring energy, set the ladder, or steps, against the loft, and as manyas could held it, while others rushed up to attack Varney with all theferocity and courage of so many bull dogs.
It was strange, but the more they were baffled the more enraged anddetermined they rushed on to a new attack, with greater resolution thanever.
On this occasion, however, they were met with a new kind of missile, forSir Francis had either collected and placed there for the occasion, orthey had been left there for years, a number of old bricks, which layclose at hand. These he took, one by one, and deliberately took aim atthem, and flung them with great force, striking down every one they hit.
This caused them to recoil; the bricks caused fearful gashes in theirheads, and the wounds were serious, the flesh being, in many places,torn completely off. They however, only paused, for one man said,--
"Be of good heart, comrades, we can do as he does; he has furnished uswith weapons, and we can thus attack him in two ways, and he must giveway in the end."
"Hurrah! down with the vampyre!" sounded from all sides, and the shoutwas answered by a corresponding rush.
It was true; Sir Francis had furnished them with weapons to attackhimself, for they could throw them back at him, which they did, andstruck him a severe blow on the head, and it covered his face with bloodin a moment.
"Hurrah!" shouted the assailants; "another such a blow, and all will beover with the vampyre."
"He's got--"
"Press him sharp, now," cried another man, as he aimed another blow witha brick, which struck Varney on the arm, causing him to drop the brickhe held in his hand. He staggered back, apparently in great pain.
"Up! up! we have him now; he cannot get away; he's hurt; we have him--wehave him."
And up they went with all the rapidity they could scramble up the steps;but this had given Varney time to recover himself; and though his rightarm was almost useless, yet he contrived, with his left, to pitch thebricks so as to knock over the first three or four, when, seeing that hecould not maintain his position to advantage, he rushed to the outsideof the house, the last place he had capable of defence.
There was a great shout by those outside, when they saw him come out andstand with his staff, and those who came first got first served, for theblows resounded, while he struck them, and sent them over below.
Then came a great shout from within and without, and then a desperaterush was made at the door, and, in the next instant, Varney was seenflying, followed by his pursuers, one after the other, some tumblingover the tiles, to the imminent hazard of their necks.
Sir Francis Varney rushed along with a speed that appeared by far toogreat to admit of being safely followed, and yet those who followedappeared infected by his example, and appeared heedless of allconsequences by which their pursuit might be attended to themselves.
"Hurrah!" shouted the mob below.
"Hurrah!" answered the mob on the tiles.
Then, over several housetops might be seen the flying figure of SirFrancis Varney, pursued by different men at a pace almost equal to hisown.
They, however, could keep up the same speed, and not improve upon it,while he kept the advantage he first obtained in the start.
Then suddenly he disappeared.
It seemed to the spect
ators below that he had dropped through a house,and they immediately surrounded the house, as well as they could, andthen set up another shout.
This took place several times, and as often was the miserable man huntedfrom his place of refuge only to seek another, from which he was in likemanner hunted by those who thirsted for his blood.
On one occasion, they drove him into a house which was surrounded, saveat one point, which had a long room, or building in it, that ran somedistance out, and about twenty feet high.
At the entrance to the roof of this place, or leads, he stood anddefended himself for some moments with success; but having received ablow himself, he was compelled to retire, while the mob behind forcedthose in front forward faster than he could by any exertion wield thestaff that had so much befriended him on this occasion.
He was, therefore, on the point of being overwhelmed by numbers, when hefled; but, alas! there was no escape; a bare coping stone and rails ranround the top of that.
There was not much time for hesitation, but he jumped over the rails andlooked below. It was a great height, but if he fell and hurt himself, heknew he was at the mercy of the bloodhounds behind him, who would doanything but show him any mercy, or spare him a single pang.
He looked round and beheld his pursuers close upon him, and one was soclose to him that he seized upon his arm, saying, as he shouted to hiscompanions,--
"Hurrah, boys! I have him."
With an execration, Sir Francis wielded his staff with such force, thathe struck the fellow on the head, crushing in his hat as if it had beenonly so much paper. The man fell, but a blow followed from some one elsewhich caused Varney to relax his hold, and finding himself falling, he,to save himself, sprang away.
The rails, at that moment, were crowded with men who leaned over toascertain the effect of the leap.
"He'll be killed," said one.
"He's sure to be smashed," said another.
"I'll lay any wager he'll break a limb!" said a third.
Varney came to the earth--for a moment he lay stunned, and not able tomove hand or foot.
"Hurrah!" shouted the mob.
Their triumph was short, for just as they shouted Varney arose, andafter a moment or two's stagger he set off at full speed, which producedanother shout from the mob; and just at that moment, a body of hispursuers were seen scaling the walls after him.
There was now a hunt through all the adjoining fields--from cover aftercover they pursued him until he found no rest from the hungry wolvesthat beset him with cries, resembling beasts of prey rather than anyhuman multitude.
Sir Francis heard them, at the same time, with the despair of a man whois struggling for life, and yet knows he is struggling in vain; he knewhis strength was decaying--his immense exertions and the blows he hadreceived, all weakened him, while the number and strength of his foesseemed rather to increase than to diminish.
Once more he sought the houses, and for a moment he believed himselfsafe, but that was only a momentary deception, for they had traced him.
He arrived at a garden wall, over which he bounded, and then he rushedinto the house, the door of which stood open, for the noise anddisturbance had awakened most of the inhabitants, who were out in alldirections.
He took refuge in a small closet on the stairs, but was seen to do so bya girl, who screamed out with fear and fright,
"Murder! murder!--the wampyre!--the wampyre!" with all her strength, andin the way of screaming that was no little, and then she went off into afit.
This was signal enough, and the house was at once entered, and beset onall sides by the mob, who came impatient of obtaining their victim whohad so often baffled them.
"There he is--there he is," said the girl, who came to as soon as otherpeople came up.
"Where?--where?"
"In that closet," she said, pointing to it with her finger. "I see'd himgo in the way above."
Sir Francis, finding himself betrayed, immediately came out of thecloset, just as two or three were advancing to open it, and dealt sohard a blow on the head of the first that came near him that he fellwithout a groan, and a second shared the same fate; and then Sir Francisfound himself grappled with, but with a violent effort he relievedhimself and rushed up stairs.
"Oh! murder--the wampyre! what shall I do--fire--fire!"
These exclamations were uttered in consequence of Varney in his haste toget up stairs, having inadvertently stepped into the girl's lap with onefoot, while he kicked her in the chin with the other, besides scratchingher nose till it bled.
"After him--stick to him," shouted the mob, but the girl kicked andsprawled so much they were impeded, till, regardless of her cries, theyran over her and pursued Varney, who was much distressed with theexertions he had made.
After about a minute's race he turned upon the head of the stair, not somuch with the hope of defending it as of taking some breathing time: butseeing his enemies so close, he drew his sword, and stood panting, butprepared.
"Never mind his toasting-fork," said one bulky fellow, and, as he spoke,he rushed on, but the point of the weapon entered his heart and he felldead.
There was a dreadful execration uttered by those who came up after him,and there was a momentary pause, for none liked to rush on to the bloodysword of Sir Francis Varney, who stood so willing and so capable ofusing it with the most deadly effect. They paused, as well they might,and this pause was the most welcome thing next to life to theunfortunate fugitive, for he was dreadfully distressed and bleeding.
"On to him boys! He can hardly stand. See how he pants. On to him, Isay--push him hard."
"He pushes hard, I tell you," said another. "I felt the point of hissword, as it came through Giles's back.".
"I'll try my luck, then," said another, and he rushed up; but he was metby the sword of Sir Francis, who pierced it through his side, and hefell back with a groan.
Sir Francis, fearful of stopping any longer to defend that point,appeared desirous of making good his retreat with some little advantage,and he rushed up stairs before they had recovered from the momentaryconsternation into which they had been thrown by the sudden disasterthey had received.
But they were quickly after him, and before he, wearied as he was, couldgain the roof, they were up the ladder after him.
The first man who came through the trap was again set upon by Varney,who made a desperate thrust at him, and it took effect; but the swordsnapped by the handle.
With an execration, Sir Francis threw the hilt at the head of the nextman he saw; then rushing, with headlong speed, he distanced his pursuersfor some house tops.
But the row of houses ended at the one he was then at, and he could gono further. What was to be done? The height was by far too great to bejumped; death was certain. A hideous heap of crushed and mangled boneswould be the extent of what would remain of him, and then, perhaps, lifenot extinct for some hours afterwards.
He turned round; he saw them coming hallooing over the house tops, likea pack of hounds. Sir Francis struck his hands together, and groaned. Helooked round, and perceived some ivy peeping over the coping-stone. Athought struck him, and he instantly ran to the spot and leaned over.
"Saved--saved!" he exclaimed.
Then, placing his hand over, he felt for the ivy; then he got over, andhung by the coping-stone, in a perilous position, till he found a spoton which he could rest his foot, and then he grasped the ivy as low downas he could, and thus he lowered himself a short way, till he came towhere the ivy was stronger and more secure to the wall, as the upperpart was very dangerous with his weight attached to it.
The mob came on, very sure of having Sir Francis Varney in their power,and they did not hurry on so violently, as their position was dangerousat that hour of the night.
"Easy, boys, easy," was the cry. "The bird is our own; he can't getaway, that's very certain."
They, however, came on, and took no time about it hardly; but what wastheir amazement and rage at finding he had disappeared.
<
br /> "Where is he?" was the universal inquiry, and "I don't know," an almostuniversal answer.
There was a long pause, while they searched around; but they saw novestige of the object of their search.
"There's no trap door open," remarked one; "and I don't think he couldhave got in at any one."
"Perhaps, finding he could not get away, he has taken the desperateexpedient of jumping over, and committing suicide, and so escape thedoom he ought to be subjected to."
"Probably he has; but then we can run a stake through him and burn himall the same."
They now approached the extreme verge of the houses, and looked over thesides, but they could see nothing. The moon was up, and there was lightenough to have seen him if he had fallen to the earth, and they werequite sure that he could not have got up after such a fall as he musthave received.
"We are beaten after all, neighbours."
"I am not so sure of that," was the reply. "He may now be hidden about,for he was too far spent to be able to go far; he could not do that, Iam sure."
"I think not either."
"Might he not have escaped by means of that ivy, yonder?" said one ofthe men, pointing to the plant, as it climbed over the coping-stones ofthe wall.
"Yes; it may be possible," said one; "and yet it is very dangerous, ifnot certain destruction to get over."
"Oh, yes; there is no possibility of escape that way. Why, it wouldn'tbear a cat, for there are no nails driven into the wall at this height."
"Never mind," said another, "we may as well leave no stone unturned, asthe saying is, but at once set about looking out for him."
The individual who spoke now leant over the coping stone, for somemoments, in silence. He could see nothing, but yet he continued to gazefor some moments.
"Do you see him?" inquired one.
"No," was the answer.
"Ay, ay, I thought as much," was the reply. "He might as well have gothold of a corner of the moon, which, I believe, is more likely--a greatdeal more likely."
"Hold still a moment," said the man, who was looking over the edge ofthe house.
"What's the matter now? A gnat flew into your eye?"
"No; but I see him--by Jove, I see him!"
"See who--see who?"
"Varney, the vampyre!" shouted the man. "I see him about half-way downclinging, like a fly, to the wall. Odd zounds! I never saw the likeafore!"
"Hurrah! after him then, boys!"
"Not the same way, if you please. Go yourself, and welcome; but I won'tgo that way."
"Just as you please," said the man; "but what's good for the goose isgood for the gander is an old saying, and so is Jack as good as hismaster."
"So it may be; but cuss me if you ain't a fool if you attempt that!"
The man made no reply, but did as Varney had done before, got over thecoping stone, and then laid hold of the ivy; but, whether his weight washeavier than Varney's, or whether it was that the latter had loosenedthe hold of the ivy or not, but he had no sooner left go of the copingstone than the ivy gave way, and he was precipitated from the height ofabout fifty feet to the earth--a dreadful fall!
There was a pause--no one spoke. The man lay motionless and dead--he haddislocated his neck!
The fall had not, however, been without its effect upon Varney, for theman's heels struck him so forcibly on his head as he fell, that he wasstunned, and let go his hold, and he, too, fell to the earth, but notmany feet.
He soon recovered himself, and was staggering away, when he was assailedby those above with groans, and curses of all kinds, and then by stones,and tiles, and whatever the mob could lay their hands upon.
Some of these struck him, and he was cut about in various places, sothat he could hardly stand.
The hoots and shouts of the mob above had now attracted those below tothe spot where Sir Francis Varney was trying to escape, but he had notgone far before the loud yells of those behind him told him that he wasagain pursued.
Half dead, and almost wholly spent, unarmed, and defenceless, he scarceknew what to do; whether to fly, or to turn round and die as a refugefrom the greater evil of endeavouring to prolong a struggle which seemedhopeless. Instinct, however, urged him on, at all risks, and though hecould not go very far, or fast, yet on he went, with the crowd afterhim.
"Down with the vampyre!--seize him--hold him--burn him! he must be downpresently, he can't stand!"
This gave them new hopes, and rendered Varney's fate almost certain.They renewed their exertions to overtake him, while he exerted himselfanew, and with surprising agility, considering how he had been employedfor more than two hours.
There were some trees and hedges now that opposed the progress of bothparties. The height of Sir Francis Varney gave him a great advantage,and, had he been fresh, he might have shown it to advantage in vaultingover the hedges and ditches, which he jumped when obliged, and walkedthrough when he could.
Every now and then, the party in pursuit, who had been behind him somedistance, now they gained on him; however, they kept, every now andthen, losing sight of him among the trees and shrubs, and he made directfor a small wood, hoping that when there, he should to be able toconceal himself for some time, so as to throw his pursuers off thetrack.
They were well aware of this, for they increased their speed, and one ortwo swifter of foot than the others, got a-head of them and cried outaloud as they ran,--
"Keep up! keep up! he's making for the wood."
"He can't stop there long; there are too many of us to beat that coverwithout finding our game. Push, lads, he's our own now, as sure as weknow he's on a-head."
They did push on, and came in full sight as they saw Sir Francis enterthe wood, with what speed he could make; but he was almost spent. Thiswas a cheering sight to them, and they were pretty certain he would notleave the wood in the state he was then--he must seek concealment.
However, they were mistaken, for Sir Francis Varney, as soon as he gotinto the wood, plunged into the thickest of it, and then paused to gainbreath.
"So far safe," he muttered; "but I have had a narrow escape; they arenot yet done, though, and it will not be safe here long. I must away,and seek shelter and safety elsewhere, if I can;--curses on the houndsthat run yelping over the fields!"
He heard the shouts of his pursuers, and prepared to quit the wood whenhe thought the first had entered it.
"They will remain here some time in beating about," he muttered; "thatis the only chance I have had since the pursuit; curse them! I sayagain. I may now get free; this delay must save my life, but nothingelse will."
He moved away, and, at a slow and lazy pace, left the wood, and thenmade his way across some fields, towards some cottages, that lay on theleft.
The moon yet shone on the fields; he could hear the shouts of the mob,as various parties went through the wood from one covert to another, andyet unable to find him.
Then came a great shout upon his ears, as though they had found out hehad left the wood. This caused him to redouble his speed, and, fearfullest he should be seen in the moonlight, he leaped over the first fencethat he came to, with almost the last effort he could make, and thenstaggered in at an open door--through a passage--into a front parlour,and there fell, faint, and utterly spent and speechless, at the feet ofFlora Bannerworth.
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