Page:Once a Week Jun to Dec 1864.pdf/54

 Rh till such times as the storm blew over. The light-hearted, merry larks were silent, and the sandy grass plain was only enlivened by some poverty-stricken looking cows, who were disconsolately wandering through it to the music of their unmelodious bells. At first I tried to induce the old Methusélah on which I was mounted to hurry on, but soon gave that up as useless, the brown hardening himself utterly against persuasions of all kinds; the more striking my arguments grew, the slower he went—so, finally I resigned myself to his will, and we jogged dreamily along, both of us I suspect in a brown study. We had left Cazeaux, I dare say, about an hour, when the big drops of rain slowly plashed down, and an ominous distant rumble told that something else was coming.

A minute or two of perfect stillness, then suddenly a tremendous clap of thunder roared deafeningly over my head, preceded by a flash of lightning so vivid that it felt quite to blind me, and the horse started violently from terror. An inch or two farther and we should have been bodily in the canal, and this veracious history might never have been written. It was a very close thing; but Methusélah only nearly lost his footing. One leg indeed slid down the steep bank, but a sharp dig of the spurs made him recover him self, and scramble up tant bien que mal. The rain now poured down in a great sheet of water. As to shelter, there was simply none, on the open grassy plain. None, did I say? I forgot the existence of the deserted house, till, on looking round, I saw it standing with invitingly open door some distance on our left. Never was sight more welcome. With considerable difficulty, and indeed, only by tying my handkerchief over the eyes of the unfortunate brown, whom the thunder and lightning caused quite to lose his head—I managed that we should both reach our haven of refuge before getting quite soaked through. The door lay partially open, as I have said, there was more than enough space for me to enter, but as there was not sufficient for the admission of the horse, I gave it a push, expecting it to yield at once. But I found that it was uncommonly stiff, and it was with much difficulty I succeeded in moving it sufficiently to enable the old brown to drag himself through.

We went into the empty front room, which was just as I had seen it three weeks before; and as I stood in the window I congratulated myself immensely that we had a roof over our heads. But time wore on, darkness slowly crept nearer and nearer, and at last I began to wish the pelting rain would cease; but it didn't seem to have the slightest idea of doing anything of the kind. The lightning, if possible, became more vivid than ever; and the window-frames rattled again amid the great crashing of the thunder. It was evident that the elements intended to make a night of it now they had the chance, and as I did not the least fancy a two hours' jog to La Teste through the storm, I determined to migrate to the next room, and make myself as comfortable as circumstances would permit on the big sofa. Taking off the horse's bridle, I therefore first, as a precautionary measure, hobbled his forelegs, that if the fancy should seize that valuable animal to make his way out during the night, he might not be able to wander far enough to get lost in the forest. This done, I turned my steps to the next room.

With the help of a box of matches and a newspaper that I happened to have in my pocket, I set to work at the half-burned logs on the hearth, got up a feeble fire, lit my pipe, and drawing one of the chairs up in front of the fireplace, under the combined soothing influences of the fire and the 'baccy,' fell into a reverie, and finally, I suspect, a sleep. How long it lasted I don't the least know, but I suddenly became aware that the fire had died out, and that thick darkness was all around me. The thunder and rain appeared to have ceased, for not a sound broke the complete silence, which came to feel so oppressive that at last I got up, and groped my way into the passage to look out on the night.

Feeling my way by the wall I slowly progressed along till I reached the hall door, but it was shut. Shut? How odd! I had certainly left it open. Perhaps I was at the wrong door. But I soon convinced myself that was not the case by striking a match—my last, I was sorry to perceive.

"Very odd," I said to myself, "the door was so firmly driven back by the passage of the horse, it couldn't have been shut without considerable force and noise. I wonder I didn't hear it clap, but at all events I'll go out for a bit." That was easier said than done. I put out my right hand as a matter of course, but it was very strange, I couldn't grasp the handle. I saw well enough where it was by the match, yet somehow my fingers couldn't take hold of it. "What nonsense," I said to myself, as I perforce dropped the burning end of the match on the floor; "what can have come over me?" and I put out my left hand. A strange twinge ran through it the moment it touched the handle, and it dropped numb and powerless to my side; I felt I couldn't raise it, couldn't move a muscle of it. A light mocking laugh sounded suddenly behind me, and I am afraid I lost my