Edwin Brothertoft/Part III Chapter XX

Chapter XX.
Brothertoft galloped down the hill-side. He had no whip or spur, but the mare took in his passion, made it her own, and dashed forward madly. No winding by comfortable curves for them! They bore straight for the house.

Three miles from Cedar Ridge, — three miles to go! and broken country, all hill and gully! No sane man could gallop it by day. A night ride there might be the dream of a madman. There were belts of forest, dense and dark, with trees standing thick as palisades. There were ravines crowded with thorny thickets. There were stony brooks, and dry channels stonier. There were high walls slanting up the sharp slopes of the scattered clearings. Down was steep, and up was steep, and it was all up and down. But, though darkness trebled the danger, horse or rider never shrank. They bore straight on. Three miles to go!

And while they galloped, the rider’s thought galloped. Sometimes it burst out into a cry of encouragement for his horse; sometimes it was unspoken; but all the while it went on wildly, thus:—

“On, Volante! Straight for that light to the south! Fires move fast; we must go faster. Only three miles away, and there she sits bound, — and the flames coming, — she I once loved, God knows how faithfully! Gallop, gallop, Volante!

“Bravely! here we are down the ridge! Now, stretch out over this smooth bit of clearing! Yes; that black line is a stone wall. Measure it, Volante! Not four feet! Good practice for our first leap! Easy now, steady! Hurrah! Over and a foot to spare! Well done, horse! And I have been a plodding foot-soldier! But I can ride still, like a boy, side-saddle or no saddle. A Brothertoft cannot lose the cavalier. We shall win.

“What, Volante? Nothing to fear, — that white strip in the dell! Only a brook. Barely twelve feet to leap. Never mind the dark and the bad start! Remember my wife, — she burns, if we flinch. Now, together! Hurrah! Over, thank God! Splashed, but safe over and away!

“A clearing again. Shame, Volante! Are you a ploughman’s horse, that you labor so clumsily in these furrows? See that horrible glow upon the sky! This wood hides it again. Idle forest! why was it not burned clean from the ground a century ago? Everything baffles. No, Volante! No turning aside for this windrow! Over, over! Through, through, and now straight on! Yes; the hill is steep, but we must gallop down it. No stumbling. What! another wall, and higher? You shrink! No, — you must. She shall not burn! Now, God help us! Down? No; up and off! Hurrah!

“How we have rattled through those two miles! And here is the road. Easier travelling, if you can only take that worm fence! The top bars are sure to be rotten. A fair start, my good mare, and do your best! Bravely again! I knew we should crash over. Plain sailing now! What, limping, flagging, Volante? Shame! This is a road fit for a lady’s summer-evening canter. Shake out, Volante! Let me see your stride! Show your Lincolnshire blood! The winner in this race wins Life, —, do you hear? Wake up there, you farmers! Turn out and help! Fire at Brothertoft Manor. !

“Faster, faster! Are we too late? Never! I see the glow brighten against the sky; but the night is still as death; fire will move slow. We shall see at the turn of the road. Faster now! She must not burn, sitting there, where I saw her by the dear fireside of the years gone by, — sitting bound, and the flames snarling. Ah! I so loved her! I so trusted her! We were young. Life was so beautiful! God was so good! It was miserable that she should wound me, and more cruelly wound her own soul. But I have forgiven her. O, let me save her, if only to speak peace and pardon! She shall not burn. A dozen strides, and we can see the house. Perhaps this great light is the stables. No, — everything! Fire everywhere. Too late! too late! Never! I can burn. She shall not.”

And they galloped up the lawn.