THE BITTER END
It was indeed a sad sight for those joyous riders, exulting but a
moment before, in all the triumph and excitement of their gallop.
Saddest and most pitiable for the General, thus to find and recognise
the woman he had loved and lost. While they took her gently out from
under the dead mare's carcase, she groaned feebly, and they said,
"Thank God!" for at least there seemed left a faint spark of life.
Assistance, too, was near at hand. As Norah observed, "'Twasn't like
Kildare, where ye wouldn't have seen a shealing or may be so much
as a potato-garden for miles! But every farm here was kept like a
domain, and they'd built a dwelling-house almost in every field!"
Within a short distance stood the comfortable mansion, surrounded by
its well-stocked fold-yards, of a substantial yeoman; and Bill, with
two falls, was there in two minutes! A few of the second flight also,
persevering resolutely on the line the hounds had gone, straggled up
and did good service. What became of the Field, and where the deer was
taken, none of these had opportunity to ascertain. All their energies,
all their sympathies, were engrossed by that helpless, motionless form,
that beautiful rigid face, so wan and white, beneath its folds of
glossy raven hair.
Carrying her softly and carefully on a gate to her place of shelter,
it looked as if they formed a funeral procession, of which the General
seemed chief-mourner.
His bearing was stern and composed, his step never faltered, nor
did his hand shake; but he who wrestled with the angel of old, and
prevailed against him, could scarcely have out-done this loving,
longing heart in earnestness of purpose and passionate pleading of
prayer.
"But once more!" was his petition. "Only that she may know me, and look
on me once more!" and it was granted.
For two days Blanche Douglas never spoke nor stirred. Mrs. Walters
constituted herself head-nurse, and never left her pillow. The General
remained the whole time at the threshold of her chamber.
The surgeon, a country practitioner of high repute, who saw her within
an hour of her accident, committed himself to no opinion by word or
sign, but shook his head despondingly the moment he found himself
alone. The famous London doctor, telegraphed for at once, preserved an
ominous silence. He, too, getting into the fly that took him back to
the station, looked grave and shook his head. The hospitable yeoman,
who placed his house and all he had freely at the sufferer's disposal,
packing off the very children to their aunt's, at the next farm, felt,
as he described it, "Down-hearted--uncommon." His kindly wife went
about softly and in tears. Daisy and Bill hurried to and fro, in every
direction, as required, by night and day; while Norah, watching in the
darkened room, tried to hope against hope, and pray for that which she
dared not even think it possible could be granted.
The General looked the quietest and most composed of all. Calm and
still, he seemed less to watch than to wait. Perhaps some subtler
instinct than theirs taught him the disastrous certainty, revealed to
him the inevitable truth.
Towards evening of the second day Norah came into the passage and
laid her hand on his shoulder, as he sat gazing vacantly from the
window, over the fields and orchards about the farm. They loomed hazy
and indistinct in the early winter twilight, but the scene on which
he looked was clear enough--a bright sunny slope, a golden gleam in
the sky above, and on earth a dark heap, with a trailing habit, and a
slender riding-whip clenched in a small gloved hand.
"She has just asked for you," whispered Norah. "Go to her--quick! God
bless you, General! Try and bear it like a man!"
The room was very dark. He stole softly to her bedside, and felt his
fingers clasped in the familiar clinging touch once more.
"My darling!" he murmured, and the strong man's tears welled up, thick
and hot, like a child's.
Her voice came, very weak and low. "The poor mare!" she said; "is she
much hurt? It was no fault of hers."
He must have answered, and told her the truth without knowing it; for
she proceeded more feebly than before.
"Both of us! Then it's no use. I was going to give her to you, dear,
and ask you to take care of her for my sake. Have you--have you
forgiven?"
"Forgiven!" His failing accents were even less steady than her own.
"I vexed you dreadfully," she continued. "I was not good enough for
you. I see it all; and, if it could come again, I would never leave
you--never! But I did it for the best. I took great pains to hide
myself away down here; but I'm glad. Yes, I'm very glad you found me
out at last. How dark it is! Don't let go my hand. Kiss me, my own! I
know now that I _did_ love you dearly--far better than I thought."
The feeble grasp tightened, stronger, stronger, yet. The shadows fell,
the night came down, and a pale moon threw its ghostly light into the
chamber. But the face he loved was fixed and grey now, the hand he
still clasped was stiff and cold in death.
* * * * *
The General carried to India a less sore heart, perhaps, than he had
expected. There was no room left for the gnawing anxiety, the bitter
sense of humiliation, the persistent struggle against self, that
distressed and troubled him in his previous relations with her he had
loved so dearly, and lost so cruelly even in the hour she became his
own. He was grave and silent, no doubt, in feelings and appearance,
many years beyond his real age; but every fresh grey hair, every
additional symptom of decay, seemed only a milestone nearer home.
Without speculating much on its locality, he cherished an ardent hope
that soon he might follow to the place where she had gone before. None
should come between them there, he thought, and they need never part
again.
Soldier Bill and Daisy saw the last of him when he left England; the
former rather envied every one who was bound for a sphere in which
there seemed a possibility of seeing real service, the latter comparing
his senior's lonely life and blighted hopes with his own happy lot,
felt a humbler, a wiser, and a better man for the contrast.
Mrs. Walters, though losing none of her good nature and genial Irish
humour, became more staid in manner, altogether more matronly; and
though she went out hunting on occasion, certainly rode less boldly
than before the catastrophe. Her sister Mary, however, who came over
to stay with her about this time, kept up the family credit for
daring, and would have taken Bill's heart by storm if she had not won
it already with the fearlessness she displayed in following him over
the most formidable obstacles. After a famous day on Boneen, when she
bustled that lazy little gentleman along in a manner that perfectly
electrified him, Bill could hold out no longer, but placed himself,
his fortunes, Catamount, and Benjamin, at her disposal. All these she
was good enough to accept but the badger; and that odorous animal was
compelled to evacuate his quarters in the wardrobe for a more suitable
residence out of barracks, at a livery-stable. So they were married in
London, and inaugurated the first day of their honeymoon by a quick
thing with the Windsor drag-hounds.
Of Mrs. Lushington there is little more to be said. The sad fate of her
former friend she accepted with the resignation usually displayed by
those of her particular set in the face of such afflictions as do not
immediately effect themselves and their pleasures. She vowed it was
very sad, talked of wearing black--but didn't! and went out to dinner
much as usual. Even Bessie Gordon showed more feeling, for she _did_
cry when she heard the news, and appeared that night at a ball with
swollen eyelids and a red place under her nose. Many people asked what
had become of Miss Douglas? The answer was usually something to this
effect--
"Don't you remember? Painful business; shocking accident. Killed out
hunting. Odd story; odd girl. Yes, handsome, but peculiar style!"
They buried the good black mare where she fell. Long before the grass
was green over her grave, rider and horse had been very generally
forgotten. Yet in their own circle both had created no small sensation
in their time. But life is so far like the chase, that it admits of
but little leisure for hesitation; none whatever for regret. How should
we ever get to the finish if we must needs stop to pick up the fallen,
or to mourn for the dead?
In certain kind and faithful hearts, however, it is but justice to say
the memory of that hapless pair remains fresh and vivid as on the day
of their fatal downfall.
There is a stern, grey-headed soldier in the East who sees Blanche
Douglas nightly in his dreams; and Daisy Walters, in his highest state
of exultation, when he has been well-carried, as often happens, through
a run, heaves a sigh, and feels something aching at his heart, that
recalls the black mare and her lovely wayward rider, while it reminds
him in a ghostly whisper that "there never was one yet like Satanella!"
UNWIN BROTHERS, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOKING AND LONDON.
New Complete Library Edition of
G.J. Whyte=Melville's Novels.
Complete in about 25 Volumes.
_Large Crown 8vo, Cloth Gilt, 3s. 6d. each._
The publishers have pleasure in announcing a monthly issue of novels by
the late G.J. Whyte-Melville, who, uniting, as he did, the qualities
of poet, novelist, sportsman, and leader of society, has long been
acknowledged to stand above rivalry when dealing with sport and the
romance of old. Each volume will be illustrated by front-rank artists,
well printed from type specially cast, on best antique paper, and
handsomely bound.
1 KATERFELTO. With four illustrations by Lucy E. Kemp-Welch.
2 CERISE. With four illustrations by G.P. Jacomb-Hood.
3 SARCHEDON. With four illustrations by S.E. Waller.
4 SONGS AND VERSES, and THE TRUE CROSS.
With five illustrations by S.E. Waller.
5 MARKET HARBOROUGH, and INSIDE THE BAR.
With four illustrations by John Charlton.
6 BLACK BUT COMELY. With four illustrations by S.E. Waller.
7 ROY'S WIFE. With four illustrations by G.P. Jacomb-Hood.
8 ROSINE, and SISTER LOUISE.
With four illustrations by G.P. Jacomb-Hood.
9 KATE COVENTRY.
With four illustrations by Lucy E. Kemp-Welch.
10 THE GLADIATORS.
With four illustrations by J. Ambrose Walton.
11 RIDING RECOLLECTIONS.
With four illustrations by John Charlton.
12 THE BROOKES OF BRIDLEMERE.
With four illustrations by S.E. Waller.
13 SATANELLA. With four illustrations by Lucy E. Kemp-Welch.
14 HOLMBY HOUSE. With four illustrations by Lucy E. Kemp-Welch.
Novels by Guy Boothby.
SPECIAL AND ORIGINAL DESIGNS.
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my already large respect for him."
LOVE MADE MANIFEST.
PHAROS, THE EGYPTIAN.
ACROSS THE WORLD FOR A WIFE.
THE LUST OF HATE.
BUSHIGRAMS.
THE FASCINATION OF THE KING.
DR. NIKOLA.
THE BEAUTIFUL WHITE DEVIL.
A BID FOR FORTUNE; or, Dr. Nikola's Vendetta.
IN STRANGE COMPANY: A Story of Chili and the Southern Seas.
THE MARRIAGE OF ESTHER: A Torres Straits Sketch.
New Library Edition of
Henry Kingsley's Novels.
Edited by Clement K. Shorter.
_Well printed on good paper, from type specially cast._
_Neatly and handsomely bound. Illustrated by eminent artists._
_Cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. per volume._
Press Opinions.
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odd years ago."--_Pall Mall Gazette._
1. THE RECOLLECTIONS OF GEOFFRY HAMLYN. With a Photogravure Portrait
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2. RAVENSHOE. With Frontispiece by R. Caton Woodville.
3. THE HILLYARS AND THE BURTONS. With a note on Old Chelsea Church by
Clement K. Shorter. Illustrated by Herbert Railton.
4. SILCOTE OF SILCOTES. With Frontispiece by Lancelot Speed.
5. STRETTON. With Frontispiece by George M. Henton.
6. AUSTIN ELLIOT, and THE HARVEYS. With Frontispiece by Walter Paget.
7. MDLLE. MATHILDE. With Frontispiece by Holland Tringham.
8. OLD MARGARET, and Other Stories. With a Frontispiece by Robert
Sauber.
9. VALENTIN, and NUMBER SEVENTEEN. With a Frontispiece by R. Caton
Woodville.
10. OAKSHOTT CASTLE, and THE GRANGE GARDEN. With a Frontispiece by W.H.
Overend.
11. REGINALD HETHEREGE, and LEIGHTON COURT. With a Frontispiece by
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Forestier.
Novels by Joseph Hocking.
_CROWN 8vo, CLOTH GILT, 3s. 6d. EACH._
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WEAPONS OF MYSTERY.
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FIELDS OF FAIR RENOWN.
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ALL MEN ARE LIARS.
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ISHMAEL PENGELLY: An Outcast.
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THE STORY OF ANDREW FAIRFAX.
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JABEZ EASTERBROOK.
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ZILLAH.
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THE MONK OF MAR-SABA.
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WORKS BY
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THE MAN AND HIS KINGDOM.
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AS A MAN LIVES.
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A MONK OF CRUTA.
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A DAUGHTER OF THE MARIONIS.
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THE CAMP AT WANDINONG.
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MISS BOBBIE.
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THE LITTLE LARRIKIN.
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SEVEN LITTLE AUSTRALIANS.
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THE FAMILY AT MISRULE.
A SEQUEL TO THE ABOVE.
Illustrated by A.J. Johnson.
* * * * *
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THE LITTLE DUCHESS, & other Stories.
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Recent 3/6 Novels.
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THE CRIME AND THE CRIMINAL.
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A SENSATIONAL CASE.
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THE UNSEEN HAND.
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A SOCIAL HIGHWAYMAN.
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THE SWORD OF ALLAH.
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OUT FROM THE NIGHT.
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THE DEATH THAT LURKS UNSEEN.
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THE HOUSE OF RIMMON.
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PHILLIPI, THE GUARDSMAN.
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4 CHRONICLES OF MARTIN HEWITT.
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5 THE QUEEN OF NIGHT.
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6 A MAN'S FOES.
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8 A VELDT OFFICIAL.
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9 WOMAN, THE MYSTERY.
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10 MARTIN HEWITT, INVESTIGATOR.
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11 A STOLEN LIFE.
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12 A SOCIAL HIGHWAYMAN.
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14 AT MIDNIGHT.
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THE
Nineteenth Century Classics
Edited by Clement K. Shorter.
_CROWN 8vo, ART CANVAS GILT. 2s. 6d._
Throughout the whole history of English literature there is no period
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1 SARTOR RESARTUS. By Thomas Carlyle. With an Introduction by Edward
Dowden, LL.D.
2 ALARIC AT ROME, and other Poems. By Matthew Arnold. With an
Introduction by Richard Garnett, C.B., LL.D.
3 HEROES AND HERO-WORSHIP. By Thomas Carlyle. With an Introduction by
Edmund Gosse.
4 PROMETHEUS BOUND, and other Poems. By Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
With an Introduction by Alice Meynell.
5 BELLS AND POMEGRANATES, and other Poems. By Robert Browning. With an
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6 BELLS AND POMEGRANATES (_Second Series_). By Robert Browning.
7 PAST AND PRESENT. By Thomas Carlyle. With an Introduction by Frederic
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8 THE OPIUM EATER. By Thomas de Quincey. With an Introduction by
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9 CRANFORD. By Mrs. Gaskell. With an Introduction by W. Robertson
Nicoll, LL.D.
10 THE AUTOCRAT OF THE BREAKFAST TABLE. By Oliver Wendell Holmes. With
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11 SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. By George Eliot.
With an Introduction and Biography by Clement K. Shorter.
_You cannot beat the Best._
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