Black Bess; or, The Knight of the Road — A Tale of the Good Old Times — page 116: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

| | edeg eo 2 me ss ie Fe aed Tpit ERA CS TR i og “Ae BLUESKIN : A ROMANCE. But he was not dead, though life clung to him by but a] object make a slight, almost i feeble tenure. Still, he gave no signs of life, and no one who gazed upon him could have come to any other conclusion than that he was 4 corpse. Higher and higher rose the sun, brighter aud warnier became his rays, but yet that mutilated form stirred not. Ob! could but some kind Samaritan have been made aware of the desperate condition of a fellow-creature, he would have hastened to his assistance, bound up his wounds, and brought him back to hfe. But in that lonely foot-deserted piace, what hope was there that any one would come to tend his hurts ? Alas! none. His recovery must then be left in the hands of nature. The cool autumn day fades away. Hope fades with it. The deathlike trance has now continued upwards of eighteen hours. ‘Had it not so chanced that the blood congealed over the wound, and so stopped its further flow, he must inevitably have bled to death. As it was, though, he had lost no inconsiderable quantity of the vital fluid, yet it was not enough to endanger life. Obscurer and obscurer grew the different objects once again, until it was impossible to distinguish the form which lay so stark and still. No signs of returning animation. A north-east wind sighed with a melancholy cadence through the abbey ruins. The leaves of the ivy and other parasitic plants that clung to the time-worn stonework for support rustled ceaselessly. The gigantic owls, who had for so long found there a safe and unmolested home, uttered at intervals their strange unearthly ery, too-whoo, too-whoo. Dense masses of clouds overspread the heavens, and shut out the radiance of the queen of night. But the wind, as it increased in power, sent them scud- ding away until they piled themselves up in a huge bank on the opposite side of the horizon. Then the silvery moon and pale, twinkling stars, were brought to view. The moon was exactly at the full. Through the window in the turret streamed with full force her hght, revealing its interior with a seemingly greater clearness than the sun himself. ; in broad and picturesque masses of hght and shade it ell. The body of Blueskin, looking like some statue, so still and corpse-like looking was it, could be once more seen. In the long interval of time no change had taken place. His eyes were fixed, and staring bhndly upwards. The arms outstretched. The limbs rigid. Is he to die? And as the pale pure beams of the full moon rest upon him there starts up, unbidden to the imagination, the horrible superstition of the vampire. That phantom, the bare idea of which colds the warm life-blood about the heart, and causes a clammy moisture in the brain. That phantom which perpetuates a loathly life by suck- ing the life-blood from the veins of the voung. That phantom, immortal, though hable to death like any human being, yet who, upon being exposed to the moonlight, takes presently a new lease of existence. That phantom to whom the moon is a god, from whom, from time to time, he draws fresh life and vigour to con- tinue his unholy work. Yes, such is the superstition which a contemplation of that prostrate form cannot fail to bring before the mind. The silence and solitude of the place. The immobility of that spectral-looking shape. The bright moonbeams shining with unnatural lustre upon him. All these circumstances would lead to such a thourht, without any great stretch of the imagination. And that idea having once taken firm possession or any- one, how they would have felt the heart still its pulsa- tions—how they would have felt the healthy action of their lungs impeded, and the breath sent forth in sudden and fitful gasps—how they would have felt the blood creep through its channels hike water, when they saw the deathly erceptible movement. Could it be possible that the lunar light contained some resuscitative power P It would seem so. - The slight movement was repested. It was a strong convulsive shudder of the whole body. Then the arms moved, and at last the seemingly dead man raised himself upon one arm, and looked about him. All round do his eyes wander, and then, as if under some powerful fascination, they rest upon the moon’s disk. Very ghastly indeed was the aspect of the countenance. | A groan came from the white lips. Then the factitious strength which had enabled him to rise departed, and he sank down again upon his back. But this time he was in possession of his faculties. His head was racked with an intolerable pain, which seemed now as if a fiery arrow had pierced his brain, and then as though his skull was falling asunder. The effort which he made to recollect who he was, and what had happened last, aggravated these symptoms frightfully. Still he did not give up. , - natural impulse made him carry his hand to bis ead. It was sticky, cold, and wet. ‘“T have been wounded,” he said. ‘“‘I have been wounded. How did it happen, I wonder? Am T still alive, or is this death ?”’ He again struggled to a half-sitting posture. This time he was much stronger. He had about his brain a dim consciousness of what had occurred, but that was all. Nothing at all resembling distinct recollection. Then all at once he became seized with the idea that he was in some imminent danger where he was, and that it was imperative he should escape at once. That was delirium. In obedience to this instinct, and finding his strength wonderfully increased, he made all speed he could towards the door. On his hands and feet he crawled, leaving behind him a track of blood as he went. Down the narrow, dark, and steep stone staircase, mis- sing a dozen times by a hair’s breath a fall that would then and there have finished his career. Through the little door and out into the mazy intrica- cies of the abbey ruins he went. Paying no heed to his course—chmbing with incredible labour over obstacles he could easily have crawled round— possessed but with the idea that by keeping on he was escaping some great peril, he did not stay for breath, but hastened on. The exertion caused the wound in his head to break out aireppand the hot blood trickled down on to his neck and ace. Not heeding this in the least—indeed, it is question- able whether he was aware of it—he emerged fram the ruins, and plunged into the wood surrounding them. Still maintaining the same onward course, vainly ex- hausting his strength, he forced his way through the thickest of the undergrowth. The gorse bushes wound his hands, the prickly thorn and wildbriar lacerate his flesh, but he cares not, feels not, so that he still goes onward. His sense of hearing, too, is stretched to the utmost, in expectation of hearing some indications of pursuit. But in that lonely place all is still. And now he reaches the margin of one of those open spaces, which are met with in all woods of great extent. He wipes the blood from his face with his hand, won- dering the while what it is, and listens. His pulse begins to slacken. He can hear sounds which fill his heart with dread, and convince him his foes are close upon his track. The trampling of feet. The murmuring of voices. Close at hand, too, they seemed. ; With the energy of despair he made a desperate effort to force his way further through the bushes. Then he heard the loud report of a gun, and simul- taneously felt a slight shock. “JT am shot!’ he gasped, and then he sank down upon the earth, having looked, as he firmly beheved, for She last time upon the face of nature. nu COMICDOOKS.ECO an