The knight Sir James Leigh lived in a remote valley of the Welsh
Hills. The manor house, of rough grey stone, with thick walls and
mullioned windows, stood on a rising ground; at its foot ran a little
river, through great boulders. There were woods all about; but above
the woods, the bare green hills ran smoothly up, so high, that in the
winter the sun only peeped above the ridge for an hour or two; beyond
the house, the valley wound away into the heart of the hills, and at
the end a black peak looked over. The place was very sparsely
inhabited; within a close of ancient yew trees stood a little stone
church, and a small parsonage smothered in ivy, where an old priest, a
cousin of the knight, lived. There were but three farms in the valley,
and a rough track led over the hills, little used, except by drovers.
At the top of the pass stood a stone cross; and from this point you
could see the dark scarred face of the peak to the left, streaked with
snow, which did not melt until the summer was far advanced.
Sir James was a silent sad man, in ill-health; he spoke little and
bore his troubles bitterly; he was much impoverished, through his own
early carelessness, and now so feeble in body that he had small hope
of repairing the fortune he had lost. His wife was a wise and loving
woman, who, though she found it hard to live happily in so lonely a
place with a sickly husband, met her sorrows with a cheerful face,
visited her poorer neighbours, and was like a ray of sunlight in the
gloomy valley. They had one son, a boy Roderick, now about fifteen; he
was a bright and eager child, who was happy enough, taking his life as
he found it--and indeed he had known no other. He was taught a little
by the priest; but he had no other schooling, for Sir James would
spend no money except when he was obliged to do so. Roderick had no
playmates, but he never found the time to be heavy; he was fond of
long solitary rambles on the hills, being light of foot and strong.
One day he had gone out to fish in the stream, but it was bright and
still, and he could catch nothing; so at last he laid his rod aside in
a hollow place beneath the bank, and wandered without any certain aim
along the stream. Higher and higher he went, till he found, looking
about him, that he was as high as the pass; and then it came into his
mind to track the stream to its source. The Manor was now out of
sight, and there was nothing round him but the high green hills, with
here and there a sheep feeding. Once a kite came out and circled
slowly in the sun, pouncing like a plummet far down the glen; and
still Roderick went onwards till he saw that he was at the top of the
lower hills, and that the only thing higher than him was the peak
itself. He saw now that the stream ran out of a still black pool some
way in front of him, that lay under the very shadow of the dark
precipice, and was fed by the snows that melted from the face. It was
surrounded by rocks that lay piled in confusion. But the whole place
wore an air that was more than desolate; the peak itself had a cruel
look, and there was an intent silence, which was only broken, as he
gazed, by the sound of rocks falling loudly from the face of the hill
and thundering down. The sun warned him that he had gone far enough;
and he determined to go homewards, half pleased at his discovery, and
half relieved to quit so lonely and grim a spot.
That evening, when he sate with his father and mother at their simple
meal, he began to say where he had been. His father heard him with
little attention, but when Roderick described the dark pool and the
sharp front of the peak he asked him abruptly how near he had gone to
the pool. Roderick said that he had seen it from a distance, and then
Sir James said somewhat sharply that he must not wander so far, and
that he was not to go near that place again. Roderick was surprised at
this, for his father as a rule interfered little with what he did; but
he did not ask his father the reason, for there was something peevish,
even harsh, in his tone. But afterwards, when he went out with his
mother, leaving the knight to his own gloomy thoughts, as his will and
custom was, his mother said with some urgency, "Roderick, promise me
not to go to the pool again; it has an evil name, and is better left
to itself." Roderick was eager to know the story of the place, but his
mother would not tell him--only she would have him promise; so he
promised, but complained that he would rather have had a reason given
for his promise; but his mother, smiling and holding his hand, said
that it should be enough for him to please her by doing her will. So
Roderick gave his promise again, but was not satisfied.
The next day Roderick was walking in the valley and met one of the
farmers, a young good-humoured man, who had always been friendly with
the boy, and had often been to fish with him; Roderick walked beside
him, and told him that he had followed the stream nearly to the pool,
when the young farmer, with some seriousness, asked him how near he
had been to the water. Roderick was surprised at the same question
that his father had asked him being asked again, and told him that he
had but seen it from a hill-top near, adding, "But what is amiss with
the place, for my father and mother have made me promise not to go
there again?"
The young farmer said nothing for a moment, but seemed to reflect;
then he said that there were stories about the place, stories that
perhaps it was foolish to believe, but he went on to say that it was
better to be on the safe side in all things, and that the place had an
evil fame. Then Roderick with childish eagerness asked him what the
stories were; and little by little the farmer told him. He said that
something dwelt near or in the pool, it was not known what, that had
an enmity to the life of man; that twice since he was a boy a strange
thing had happened there; a young shepherd had come by his death at
the pool, and was found lying in the water, strangely battered; that,
he said, was long before Roderick was born; then he added, "You
remember old Richard the shepherd?" "What!" said Roderick, "the old
strange man that used to go about muttering to himself, that the boys
threw stones at?" "Yes," said the farmer, "the very same. Well, he was
not always so--I remember him a strong and cheerful man; but once when
the sheep had got lost in the hills, he would go to the pool because
he thought he heard them calling there, though we prayed him not to
go. He came back, indeed, bringing no sheep, but an altered and broken
man, as he was thenceforth and as you knew him; he had seen something
by the pool, he could not say what, and had had a sore strife to get
away." "But what sort of a thing is this?" said Roderick. "Is it a
beast or a man, or what?"
"Neither," said the farmer very gravely. "You have heard them read in
the church of the evil spirits who dwelt with men, and entered their
bodies, and it was sore work even for the Lord Christ to cast them
forth; I think it is one of these who has wandered thither; they say
he goes not far from the pool, for he cannot abide the cross on the
pass, and the church bell gives him pains." And then the farmer looked
at Roderick and said, "You know that they ring the bell all night on
the feast of All Souls?" "Yes," said Roderick, "I have heard it ring."
"Well, on that night alone," said the farmer, "they say that spirits
have power upon men, and come abroad to do them hurt; and so they ring
the bell, which the spirits cannot listen to--but, young master, it is
ill to talk of these things, and Christian men should not even think
of them; but as I said, though Satan has but little power over the
baptized soul, yet even so, says the priest, he can enter in, if the
soul be willing to admit him,--and so I say, avoid the place! it may
be that these are silly stories to affright folk, but it is ill to
touch pitch; and no good can be got by going to the pool, and perhaps
evil;--and now I think I have told you enough and more than enough."
For Roderick was looking at him pale and with wide open eyes.
Is it strange that from that day the thing that Roderick most desired
was to see the pool and what dwelt there? I think not; when hearts are
young and before trouble has laid its heavy hand upon them, the hard
and cruel things of life, wounds, blows, agonies, terrors, seen only
in the mirrors of another spirit, are but as a curious and lively
spectacle that feeds the mind with wonder. The stories to which
Roderick had listened in church of men that were haunted by demons
seemed to him but as dim and distant experiences on which he would
fain look; and the fainter the thought of his promise grew, the
stronger grew his desire to see for himself.
In the month of June, when the heart is light, and the smell of the
woods is fresh and sharp, Roderick's father and mother were called to
go on a journey, to see an ancient friend who was thought to be dying.
The night before they set off Roderick had a strange dream; it seemed
to him that he wandered over bare hillsides, and came at last to the
pool; the peak rose sharp and clear, and the water was very black and
still; while he gazed upon it, it seemed to be troubled; the water
began to spin round and round, and bubbling waves rose and broke on
the surface. Suddenly a hand emerged from the water, and then a head,
bright and unwetted, as though the water had no power to touch it.
Roderick saw that it was a man of youthful aspect and commanding mien;
he waded out to the shore and stood for a moment looking round him;
then he beckoned Roderick to approach, looking at him kindly, and
spoke to him gently, saying that he had waited for him long. They
walked together to the crag, and then, in some way that Roderick could
not clearly see, the man opened a door into the mountain, and Roderick
saw a glimmering passage within. The air came out laden with a rich
and heavy fragrance, and there was a faint sound of distant music in
the hill. The man turned and looked upon Roderick as though inviting
him to enter; but Roderick shook his head and refused, saying that he
was not ready; at which the man stepped inside with a smile, half of
pity, and the door was shut.
Then Roderick woke with a start and wished that he had been bold
enough to go within the door; the light came in serenely through the
window, and he heard the faint piping of awakening birds in the dewy
trees. He could not sleep, and presently dressed himself and went
down. Soon the household was awake, for the knight was to start
betimes; Roderick sate at the early meal with his father and mother.
His father was cumbered with the thought of the troublesome journey,
and asked many questions about the baggage; so Roderick said little,
but felt his mother's eyes dwell on his face with love. Soon after
they rode away; Roderick stood at the door to see them go, and there
was so eager and bright a look in his face that his mother was somehow
troubled, and almost called him to her to make him repeat his promise,
but she feared that he would feel that she did not trust him, and
therefore put the thought aside; and so they rode away, his mother
waving her hand till they turned the corner by the wood and were out
of sight.
Then Roderick began to consider how he would spend the day, with a
half-formed design in his mind; when suddenly the temptation to visit
the pool came upon him with a force that he had neither strength nor
inclination to resist. So he took his rod, which might seem to be an
excuse, and set off rapidly up the stream. He was surprised to find
how swiftly the hills rose all about him, and how easily he went; very
soon he came to the top; and there lay the pool in front of him,
within the shadow of the peak, that rose behind it very clear and
sharp. He hesitated no longer, but ran lightly down the slope, and
next moment he was on the brink of the pool. It lay before him very
bright and pure, like a jewel of sapphire, the water being of a deep
azure blue; he went all round it. There was no sign of life in the
water; at the end nearest the cliff he found a little cool runnel of
water that bubbled into the pool from the cliffs. No grass grew round
about it, and he could see the stones sloping down and becoming more
beautiful the deeper they lay, from the pure tint of the water.
He looked all around him; the moorland quivered in the bright hot air,
and he could see far away the hills lie like a map, with blue
mountains on the horizon, and small green valleys where men dwelt. He
sate down by the pool, and he had a thought of bathing in the water;
but his courage did not rise to this, because he felt still as though
something sate in the depths that would not show itself, but might
come forth and drag him down; so he sate at last by the pool, and
presently he fell asleep.
When he woke he felt somewhat chilly; the shadow of the peak had come
round, and fell on the water; the place was still as calm as ever, but
looking upon the pool he had an obscure sense as though he were being
watched by an unclosing eye; but he was thirsting with the heat; so he
drew up, in his closed hands, some of the water, which was very cool
and sweet; and his drowsiness came upon him, and again he slept.
When next he woke it was with a sense of delicious ease, and the
thought that some one who loved him was near him stroking his hand. He
looked up, and there close to his side sate very quietly what gave him
a shock of surprise. It was a great gray cat, with soft abundant fur,
which turned its yellow eyes upon him lazily, purred, and licked his
hand; he caressed the cat, which arched its back and seemed pleased to
be with him, and presently leapt upon his knee. The soft warmth of the
fur against his hands, and the welcoming caresses of this fearless
wild creature pleased him greatly; and he sate long in quiet thought,
taking care not to disturb the cat, which, whenever he took his hand
away, rubbed against him as though to show that it was pleased at his
touch. But at last he thought that he must go homewards, for the day
began to turn to the west. So he put the cat off his knee and began to
walk to the top of the pass, as it was quicker to follow the road. For
awhile the cat accompanied him, sometimes rubbing against his leg and
sometimes walking in front, but looking round from time to time as
though to consult his pleasure.
Roderick began to hope that it would accompany him home, but at a
certain place the cat stopped, and would go no farther. Roderick
lifted it up, but it leapt from him as if displeased, and at last he
left it reluctantly. In a moment he came within sight of the cross in
the hilltop, so that he saw the road was near. Often he looked round
and saw the great cat regarding him as though it were sorry to be
left; till at last he could see it no more.
He went home well pleased, his head full of happy thoughts; he had
gone half expecting to see some dreadful thing, but had found instead
a creature who seemed to love him.
The next day he went again; and this time he found the cat sitting by
the pool; as soon as it saw him, it ran to him with a glad and
yearning cry, as though it had feared he would not return; to-day it
seemed brighter and larger to look upon; and he was pleased that when
he returned by the stream it followed him much farther, leaping
lightly from stone to stone; but at a certain place, where the valley
began to turn eastward, just before the little church came in sight,
it sate down as before and took its leave of him.
The third day he began to go up the valley again; but while he rested
in a little wood that came down to the stream, to his surprise and
delight the cat sprang out of a bush, and seemed more than ever glad
of his presence. While he sate fondling it, he heard the sound of
footsteps coming up the path; but the cat heard the sound too, and as
he rose to see who was coming, the cat sprang lightly into a tree
beside him and was hidden from his sight. It was the old priest on his
way to an upland farm, who spoke fondly to Roderick, and asked him of
his father and mother. Roderick told him that they were to return that
night, and said that it was too bright to remain indoors and yet too
bright to fish; the priest agreed, and after a little more talk rose
to go, and as his manner was, holding Roderick by the hand, he blessed
him, saying that he was growing a tall boy. When he was gone--and
Roderick was ashamed to find how eager he was that the priest should
go--he called low to the cat to come back; but the cat came not, and
though Roderick searched the tree into which it had sprung, he could
find no sign of it, and supposed that it had crept into the wood.
That evening the travellers returned, the knight seeming cheerful,
because the vexatious journey was over; but Roderick was half ashamed
to think that his mind had been so full of his new plaything that he
was hardly glad to see his parents return. Presently his mother said,
"You look very bright and happy, dear child," and Roderick, knowing
that he spoke falsely, said that he was glad to see them again; his
mother smiled and asked him what he had been doing, and he said that
he had wandered on the hills, for it was too bright to fish; his
mother looked at him for a moment, and he knew in his heart that she
wondered if he had kept his promise; but he thought of his secret, and
looked at her so straight and full that she asked him no further
questions.
The next day he woke feeling sad, because he knew that there would be
no chance to go to the pool. He went to and fro with his mother, for
she had many little duties to attend to. At last she said, "What are
you thinking of, Roderick? You seem to have little to say to me." She
said it laughingly; and Roderick was ashamed, but said that he was
only thinking; and so bestirred himself to talk. But late in the day
he went a little alone through the wood, and reaching the end of it,
looked up to the hill, kissing his hand towards the pool as a greeting
to his friend; and as he turned, the cat came swiftly and lovingly out
of the wood to him; and he caught it up in his arms and clasped it
close, where it lay as if contented.
Then he thought that he would carry it to the house, and say nothing
as to where he had found it; but hardly had he moved a step when the
cat leapt from him and stood as though angry. And it came into
Roderick's mind that the cat was his secret friend, and that their
friendship must somehow be unknown; but he loved it even the better
for that.
In the weeks that followed, the knight was ill and the lady much at
home; from time to time Roderick saw the cat; he could never tell when
it would visit him; it came and went unexpectedly, and always in some
lonely and secret place. But gradually Roderick began to care for
nothing else; his fishing and his riding were forgotten, and he began
to plan how he might be alone, so that the cat would come to him. He
began to lose his spirits and to be dull without it, and to hate the
hours when he could not see it; and all the time it grew or seemed to
grow stronger and sleeker; his mother soon began to notice that he was
not well; he became thin and listless, but his eyes were large and
bright; she asked him more than once if he were well, but he only
laughed. Once indeed he had a fright; he had been asleep under a
hawthorn in the glen on a hot July day; and waking saw the cat close
to him, watching him intently with yellow eyes, as though it were
about to spring upon him; but seeing him awake, it came wheedling and
fondling him as often before; but he could not forget the look in its
eyes, and felt grave and sad.
Then he began to be troubled with dreams; the man whom he had seen in
his former dream rising from the pool was often with him--sometimes he
led him to pleasant places; but one dream he had, that he was bathing
in the pool, and caught his foot between the rocks and could not draw
it out. Then he heard a rushing sound, and looking round saw that a
great stream of water was plunging heavily into the pool, so that it
rose every moment, and was soon up to his chin. Then he saw in his
dream that the man sate on the edge of the pool and looked at him with
a cold smile, but did not offer to help; till at last when the water
touched his lips, the man rose and held up his hand; and the stream
ceased to run, and presently his foot came out of the rock easily, and
he swam ashore but saw no one.
Then it came to the autumn, and the days grew colder and shorter, and
he could not be so much abroad; he felt, too, less and less disposed
to stir out, and it now began to be on his mind that he had broken his
promise to his mother; and for a week he saw nothing of the cat,
though he longed to see it. But one night, as he went to bed, when he
had put out his light, he saw that the moon was very bright; and he
opened the window and looked out, and saw the gleaming stream and the
grey valley; he was turning away, when he heard a light sound of the
scratching of claws, and presently the cat sprang upon the window-sill
and entered the room. It was now cold and he got into bed, and the cat
sprang upon his pillow; and Roderick was so glad that the cat had
returned that while he caressed it he talked to it in low tones.
Suddenly came a step at the door, and a light beneath it, and his
mother with a candle entered the room. She stood for a moment looking,
and Roderick became aware that the cat was gone. Then his mother came
near, thinking that he was asleep, and he sate up. She said to him,
"Dear child, I heard you speaking, and wondered whether you were in a
dream," and she looked at him with an anxious gaze. And he said, "Was
I speaking, mother? I was asleep and must have spoken in a dream."
Then she said, "Roderick, you are not old enough yet to sleep so
uneasily--is all well, dear child?" and Roderick, hating to deceive
his mother, said, "How should not all be well?" So she kissed him and
went quietly away, but Roderick heard her sighing.
Then it came at last to All Souls' Day; and Roderick, going to his
bed that night, had a strange dizziness and cried out, and found the
room swim round him. Then he got up into his bed, for he thought that
he must be ill, and soon fell asleep; and in his sleep he dreamed a
dreadful dream. He thought that he lay on the hills beside the pool;
and yet he was out of the body, for he could see himself lying there.
The pool was very dark, and a cold wind ruffled the waves. And again
the water was troubled, and the man stepped out; but behind him came
another man, like a hunchback, very swarthy of face, with long thin
arms, that looked both strong and evil. Then it seemed as if the first
man pointed to Roderick where he lay and said, "You can take him
hence, for he is mine now, and I have need of him," adding, "Who could
have thought it would be so easy?" and then he smiled very bitterly.
And the hunchback went towards himself; and he tried to cry out in
warning, and straining woke; and in the chilly dawn he saw the cat sit
in his room, but very different from what it had been. It was gaunt
and famished, and the fur was all marred; its yellow eyes gleamed
horribly, and Roderick saw that it hated him, he knew not why; and
such fear came upon him that he screamed out, and as he screamed the
cat rose as if furious, twitching its tail and opening its mouth; but
he heard steps without, and screamed again, and his mother came in
haste into the room, and the cat was gone in a moment, and Roderick
held out his hands to his mother, and she soothed and quieted him, and
presently with many sobs he told her all the story.
She did not reproach him, nor say a word of his disobedience, the
fear was too urgent upon her; she tried to think for a little that it
was the sight of some real creature lingering in a mind that was
wrought upon by illness; but those were not the days when men
preferred to call the strange afflictions of body and spirit, the sad
scars that stain the fair works of God, by reasonable names. She did
not doubt that by some dreadful hap her own child had somehow crept
within the circle of darkness, and she only thought of how to help and
rescue him; that he was sorry and that he did not wholly consent was
her hope.
So she merely kissed and quieted him, and then she told him that she
would return anon and he must rest quietly; but he would not let her
leave him, so she stood in the door and called a servant softly. Sir
James was long abed, for he had been in ill-health that day, and she
gave word that some one must be found at once and go to call the
priest, saying that Roderick was ill and she was uneasy. Then she came
back to the bed, and holding Roderick's hand she said, that he must
try to sleep. Roderick said to her, "Mother, say that you forgive me."
To which she only replied, "Dear child, do I not love you better than
all the world? Do not think of me now, only ask help of God." So she
sate with his hand in both of her own, and presently he fell asleep;
but she saw that he was troubled in his dreams, for he groaned and
cried out often; and now through the window she heard the soft tolling
of the bell of the church, and she knew that a contest must be fought
out that night over the child; but after a sore passage of misery, and
a bitter questioning as to why one so young and innocent should thus
be bound with evil bonds, she found strength to leave the matter in
the Father's hands, and to pray with an eager hopefulness.
But the time passed heavily and still the priest did not arrive; and
the ghostly terror was so sore on the child that she could bear it no
longer and awakened him. And he told her in broken words of the
terrible things that had oppressed him; sore fightings and struggles,
and a voice in his ear that it was too late, and that he had yielded
himself to the evil. And at last there came a quiet footfall on the
stair, and the old priest himself entered the room, looking anxious,
yet calm, and seeming to bring a holy peace with him.
Then she bade the priest sit down; and so the two sate by the bedside,
with the solitary lamp burning in the chamber; and she would have had
Roderick tell the tale, but he covered his face with his hands and
could not. So she told the tale herself to the priest, saying,
"Correct me, Roderick, if I am wrong;" and once or twice the boy
corrected her, and added a few words to make the story plain, and then
they sate awhile in silence, while the terrified looks of the mother
and her son dwelt on the old priest's strongly lined face; yet they
found comfort in the smile with which he met them.
At length he said, "Yes, dear lady and dear Roderick, the case is
plain enough--the child has yielded himself to some evil power, but
not too far, I think; and now must we meet the foe with all our might.
I will abide here with the boy; and, dear lady, you were better in
your own chamber, for we know not what will pass; if there were need I
would call you." Then the lady said, "I will do as you direct me,
Father, but I would fain stay." Then he said, "Nay, but there are
things on which a Christian should not look, lest they should daunt
his faith--so go, dear lady, and help us with your prayers." Then she
said, "I will be below; and if you beat your foot thrice upon the
floor, I will come. Roderick, I shall be close at hand; only be
strong, and all shall be well." Then she went softly away.
Then the priest said to Roderick, "And now, dear son, confess your
sin and let me shrive you." So Roderick made confession, and the
priest blessed him: but while he blessed him there came the angry
crying of a cat from somewhere in the room, so that Roderick shuddered
in his bed. Then the priest drew from his robe a little holy book, and
with a reverence laid it under Roderick's hand; and he himself took
his book of prayers and said, "Sleep now, dear son, fear not." So
Roderick closed his eyes, and being very weary slept. And the old
priest in a low whisper said the blessed psalms. And it came near to
midnight; and the place that the priest read was, _Thou shalt not be
afraid for any terror by night, nor for the arrow that flieth by day;
for the pestilence that walketh in darkness, nor for the sickness that
destroyeth in the noonday_; and suddenly there ran as it were a shiver
through his bones, and he knew that the time was come. He looked at
Roderick, who slept wearily on his bed, and it seemed to him as though
suddenly a small and shadowy thing, like a bird, leapt from the boy's
mouth and on to the bed; it was like a wren, only white, with dusky
spots upon it; and the priest held his breath: for now he knew that
the soul was out of the body, and that unless it could return
uninjured into the limbs of the child, nothing could avail the boy;
and then he said quietly in his heart to God that if He so willed He
should take the boy's life, if only his soul could be saved.
Then the priest was aware of a strange and horrible thing; there
sprang softly on to the bed the form of the great gray cat, very lean
and angry, which stood there, as though ready to spring upon the bird,
which hopped hither and thither, as though careless of what might be.
The priest cast a glance upon the boy, who lay rigid and pale, his
eyes shut, and hardly seeming to breathe, as though dead and prepared
for burial. Then the priest signed the cross and said "_In Nomine_";
and as the holy words fell on the air, the cat looked fiercely at the
bird, but seemed to shrink into itself; and then it slipped away.
Then the priest's fear was that the bird might stray further outside
of his care; and yet he dared not try and wake the boy, for he knew
that this was death, if the soul was thrust apart from the body, and
if he broke the unseen chain that bound them; so he waited and prayed.
And the bird hopped upon the floor; and then presently the priest saw
the cat draw near again, and in a stealthy way; and now the priest
himself was feeling weary of the strain, for he seemed to be wrestling
in spirit with something that was strong and strongly armed. But he
signed the cross again and said faintly "_In Nomine_"; and the cat
again withdrew.
Then a dreadful drowsiness fell upon the priest, and he thought that
he must sleep. Something heavy, leaden-handed, and powerful seemed to
be busy in his brain. Meanwhile the bird hopped upon the window-sill
and stood as if preparing its wings for a flight. Then the priest beat
with his foot upon the floor, for he could no longer battle. In a
moment the lady glided in, and seemed as though scared to find the
scene of so fierce an encounter so still and quiet. She would have
spoken, but the priest signed her to be silent, and pointed to the boy
and to the bird; and then she partly understood. So they stood in
silence, but the priest's brain grew more numb; though he was aware of
a creeping blackness that seemed to overshadow the bird, in the midst
of which glared two bright eyes. So with a sudden effort he signed the
cross, and said "_In Nomine_" again; and at the same moment the lady
held out her hand; and the priest sank down on the floor; but he saw
the bird raise its wings for a flight, and just as the dark thing
rose, and, as it were, struck open-mouthed, the bird sailed softly
through the air, alighted on the lady's hand, and then with a light
flutter of wings on to the bed and to the boy's face, and was seen no
more; at the same moment the bells stopped in the church and left a
sweet silence. The black form shrank and slipped aside, and seemed to
fall on the ground; and outside there was a shrill and bitter cry
which echoed horribly on the air; and the boy opened his eyes, and
smiled; and his mother fell on his neck and kissed him. Then the
priest said, "Give God the glory!" and blessed them, and was gone so
softly that they knew not when he went; for he had other work to do.
Then mother and son had great joy together.
But the priest walked swiftly and sternly through the wood, and to the
church; and he dipped a vessel in the stoup of holy water, turning his
eyes aside, and wrapped it in a veil of linen. Then he took a lantern
in his hand, and with a grave and fixed look on his face he walked
sadly up the valley, putting one foot before another, like a man who
forced himself to go unwilling. There were strange sounds on the
hillside, the crying of sad birds, and the beating of wings, and
sometimes a hollow groaning seemed to come down the stream. But the
priest took no heed, but went on heavily till he reached the stone
cross, where the wind whistled dry in the grass. Then he struck off
across the moorland. Presently he came to a rise in the ground; and
here, though it was dark, he seemed to see a blacker darkness in the
air, where the peak lay.
But beneath the peak he saw a strange sight; for the pool shone with a
faint white light, that showed the rocks about it. The priest never
turned his head, but walked thither, with his head bent, repeating
words to himself, but hardly knowing what he said.
Then he came to the brink; and there he saw a dreadful sight. In the
water writhed large and luminous worms, that came sometimes up to the
surface, as though to breathe, and sank again. The priest knew well
enough that it was a device of Satan's to frighten him; so he delayed
not; but setting the lantern down on the ground, he stood. In a moment
the lantern was obscured as by the rush of bat-like wings. But the
priest took the veil off the vessel; and holding it up in the air, he
let the water fall in the pool, saying softly, "Lord, let them be
bound!"
But when the holy water touched the lake, there was a strange sight;
for the bright worms quivered and fell to the depth of the pool; and a
shiver passed over the surface, and the light went out like a
flickering lamp. Then there came a foul yelling from the stones; and
with a roar like thunder, rocks fell crashing from the face of the
peak; and then all was still.
Then the priest sate down and covered his face with his hands, for he
was sore spent; but he rose at length, and with grievous pain made his
slow way down the valley, and reached the parsonage house at last.
Roderick lay long between life and death; and youth and a quiet mind
prevailed.
Long years have passed since that day; all those that I have spoken
of are dust. But in the window of the old church hangs a picture in
glass which shows Christ standing, with one lying at his feet from
whom he had cast out a devil; and on a scroll are the words, DE
ABYSSIS · TERRAE · ITERUM · REDUXISTI · ME, the which may be written
in English, _Yea, and broughtest me from the deep of the earth again_.