Thus she lay, and he crouched22 beside her, trying to think, for he could not tell how long. He heard sounds above him indeed, but the roar of the falling stones drowned the human noises, and his brain was too much clouded to think of the search which must be going on overhead for his companion and himself. The worst of all was this dazed condition of his brain, so that it was a long time before he could put one thing to another and get any command of his thoughts. In all likelihood consciousness did not fully23 return until the time when the men above in despair relinquished24 their work, for some feeble sense of cries and human voices penetrated25 the darkness, but so muffled26 and far off that in the dimness of his faculties he did not in any way connect them with himself, nor think of attempting any reply. Perhaps it was, though he was not aware that he heard it, the echo of his own name that finally brought him to the full possession of himself—and then all his dull faculties centred, not in the idea of any help at hand, but in that of fighting a way somehow to a possible outlet27. How was he to do it? The pain of his arm was so great that at times he had nearly fainted with mere bodily suffering, and his mind fluctuated from moment to moment—or was it not rather from hour to hour?—with perplexity and vain endeavour. He was conscious, however, though he had not given any meaning to the sounds he heard, of the strange silence which followed upon the stopping of the work. Something now and then like the movements of a bird (was it Hamish working wildly above, half-mad, half-stupefied, unable to be still?) kept a little courage in him, but the silence and darkness were terrible, binding28 his very soul.
It was then that he had the consolation29 of knowing that his companion had come to herself. Suddenly a hand groping found his, and caught it; it was his wounded arm, and the pain went like a knife to his heart, a pang30 which was terrible, but sweet.
“Where are we?” Oona said, trying to raise herself—oh, anguish31!—by that broken arm.
He could not answer her for the moment, he was so overcome by the pain—and he was holding her up with the other arm.
“Do not hold my hand,” he said at last; “take hold of my coat. Thank God that you can speak!”
“Your arm is hurt, Walter?”
“Broken, I think; but never mind, that is nothing. Nothing matters so long as you have your senses. Oona, if we die together, it will be all right?”
“Yes,” she said, raising her face in the darkness to be nearer his. He kissed her solemnly, and for the moment felt no more pain.
“As well this way as another. Nothing can reach us here—only silence and sleep.”
She began to raise herself slowly, until her head struck against the low roof. She gave a faint cry—then finding herself on her knees, put her arm round him, and they leant against each other. “God is as near in the dark as in the day,” she said. “Lord, deliver us—Lord, deliver us!” Then, after a pause, “What happened? You saved my life.”
“Is it saved?” he asked. “I don’t know what has happened, except that we are together.”
Oona gave a sudden shudder32 and clung to him. “I remember now, the flames and the fire: and it was I that broke the lamp. What did it mean, the lamp? I thought it was something devilish—something to harm you.” She shivered more and more, clinging to him. “Do you think it is He—that has shut us up in this dungeon33, to die?”
Walter made no reply; it was no wonder to him that she should speak wildly. He too was tempted17 to believe that accident had no part in what had befallen them, that they had now encountered the deadly vengeance34 of their enemy. He tried to soothe35 her, holding her close to his breast. “I think we are in some of the vaults36 below—perhaps for our salvation37.” As her courage failed there was double reason that he should maintain a good heart. “There must be some outlet. Will you stay here and wait till I try if I can find a way?”
“Oh no, no,” cried Oona, clinging to him, “let us stay together. I will creep after you. I will not hinder you.” She broke off with a cry, echoing, but far more keenly, the little moan that came from him unawares as he struck his arm against the wall. She felt it far more sharply than he did, and in the darkness he felt her soft hands binding round his neck something warm and soft like their own touch in which she had wound the wounded arm to support it. It was the long white “cloud” which had been about her throat, and it warmed him body and soul; but he said nothing by way of gratitude38. They were beyond all expressions of feeling, partly because they had reached the limit at which reality is too overpowering for sentiment, and partly because there was no longer any separation of mine and thine between them, and they were but one soul.
But to tell the miseries39 of their search after a way of escape would demand more space than their historian can afford. They groped along the wall, thinking now that they saw a glimmer40 in one direction, now in another, and constantly brought up with a new shock against the opaque41 resistance round them, a new corner, or perhaps only that from which they started; under their feet unequal heaps of damp soil upon which they stumbled, and broken stones over which Oona, with childlike sobs43 of which she was unconscious, caught her dress, falling more than once as they laboured along. In this way they moved round and round their prison, a long pilgrimage. At length, when they were almost in despair, saying nothing to each other, only keeping close that the touch of each to each might be a moral support, they found themselves in what seemed a narrow passage, walls on each side, and something like an arrowslit over their heads, the light from which showed them where they were, and was as an angel of consolation to the two wounded and suffering creatures, stumbling along with new hope. But when they had reached the end of this narrow passage, Walter, going first, fell for a distance of two or three feet into the lower level of another underground chamber44 like that which he had left, jarring his already strained and racked frame, and only by an immense effort hindered Oona from falling after him. The force of the shock, and instant recovery by which he kept her back and helped her to descend45 with precaution, brought heavy drops of exhaustion46 and pain to his forehead. And when they discovered that they were nothing the better for their struggles, and that the place which they had reached at such a cost, though lighter47, was without any outlet whatever except that by which they had come, their discouragement was so great that Walter had hard ado not to join in the tears which Oona, altogether prostrated48 by the disappointment, shed on his shoulder.
“We must not give in,” he tried to say. “Here there is a little light at least. Oona, my darling, do not break down, or I shall break down too.”
“No, no,” she said submissively through her sobs, leaning all her weight upon him. He led her as well as he was able to a heap of earth in the corner, over which in the roof was a little opening to the light, barred with an iron stanchion, and quite out of reach. Here he placed her tenderly, sitting down by her, glad of the rest, though it was so uninviting. The light came in pale and showed the strait inclosure of their little prison. They were neither of them able to resume their search, but sat close together leaning against each other, throbbing50 with pain, and sick with weariness and disappointment. It gave Walter a kind of forlorn pride in his misery51 to feel that while Oona had failed altogether, he was able to sustain and uphold her. They did not speak in their weakness, but after a while dozed52 and slept, in that supreme53 necessity of flesh and blood which overcomes even despair, and makes no account of danger. They slept as men will sleep at death’s door, in the midst of enemies: and in the depths of their suffering and misery found refreshment54. But in that light sleep little moans unawares came with their breathing, for both were bruised55 and shaken, and Walter’s broken arm was on fire with fever and pain. It was those breathings of unconscious suffering that caught the ear of the minister as he made his prayer. His step had not disturbed them, but when he came back accompanied by the others, the light was suddenly darkened and the stillness broken by some one who flung himself upon his knees with a heavy shock of sound and a voice pealing56 in through the opening—“Miss Oona, if ye are there, speak! or, oh for the love of the Almighty57, whoever is there, speak and tell me where’s my leddy?” It was Hamish, half mad with hope and suspense58 and distracted affection, who thus plunged59 between them and the light.
They both woke with the sound, but faintly divining what it was, alarmed at first rather than comforted by the darkness into which they were plunged. There was a pause before either felt capable of reply, that additional deprivation60 being of more immediate61 terror to them, than there was consolation in the half-heard voice. In this pause, Hamish, maddened by the disappointment of his hopes, scrambled62 to his feet reckless and miserable63, and shook his clenched64 fist in the face of the minister who was behind him.
“How dare ye,” he cried, “play upon a man, that is half wild, with your imaginations! there’s naebody there!” and with something between a growl65 and an oath, he flung away, with a heavy step that sounded like thunder to the prisoners. But next moment the rage of poor Hamish all melted away into the exceeding and intense sweetness of that relief which is higher ecstasy66 than any actual enjoyment67 given to men, the very sweetness of heaven itself—for as he turned away the sound of a voice, low and weak, but yet a voice, came out of the bowels68 of the earth; a murmur69 of two voices that seemed to consult with each other, and then a cry of “Oona is safe. Oona is here. Come and help us, for the love of God.”
“The Lord bless you!” cried the old minister, falling on his knees. “Oona, speak to me, if you are there. Oona, speak to me! I want to hear your own voice.”
There was again a pause of terrible suspense. Hamish threw himself down, too, behind the minister, tears running over his rough cheeks, while the young man, who was overawed by the sight, and affected70 too, in a lesser71 degree, stood with his face half hidden against the wall.
“I am here,” Oona said feebly, “all safe—not hurt even. We are both safe; but oh, make haste, make haste, and take us out of this place.”
“God bless you, my bairn. God bless you, my dearest bairn!” cried Mr. Cameron: but his words were drowned in a roar of laughter and weeping from the faithful soul behind him—“Ay, that will we, Miss Oona—that will we, Miss Oona!” Hamish shouted and laughed and sobbed72 till the walls rang, then clamorous73 with his heavy feet rushed out of sight without another word, they knew not where.
“I’ll follow him,” said young Patrick; “he will know some way.”
The minister was left alone at the opening through which hope had come. He was crying like a child, and ready to laugh too like Hamish.
“My bonny dear,” he said; “my bonny dear——” and could not command his voice.
“Mr. Cameron—my mother. She must be breaking her heart.”
“And mine,” Walter said with a groan74. He thought even then of the bitterness of her woe75, and of all the miserable recollections that must have risen in her mind: please God not to come again.
“I am an old fool,” said Mr. Cameron, outside: “I cannot stand out against the joy; but I am going. I’m going, my dear. Say again you are not hurt, Oona. Say it’s you, my darling, my best bairn!”
“And me that had not the courage to say a word to yon poor woman,” he said to himself as he hurried away. The light was still grey in the skies, no sign of the sun as yet, but not only the hills distinct around, but the dark woods, and the islands on the water, and even the sleeping roofs so still among their trees on the shores of the loch, had come into sight. The remaining portion of the house which had stood so many assaults, and the shapeless mass of the destroyed tower, stood up darkly against the growing light: and almost like a part of it, like a statue that had come down from its pedestal was the figure of Mrs. Methven, which he saw standing between him and the shore, her face turned towards him. She had heard the hurrying steps and the shout of Hamish, and knew that something had happened. She had risen against her will, against the resolution she had formed, unable to control herself, and stood with one hand under her cloak, holding her heart, to repress, if possible, the terrible throbbing in it. The face she turned towards the minister overawed him in the simplicity76 of his joy. It was grey, like the morning, or rather ashen77 white, the colour of death. Even now she would not, perhaps could not, ask anything; but only stood and questioned him with her eyes, grown to twice their usual size, in the great hollows which this night had opened out.
The minister knew that he should speak carefully, and make easy to her the revolution from despair to joy; but he could not. They were both beyond all secondary impulses. He put the fact into the plainest words.
“Thank God! your son is safe,” he cried.
“What did you say?”
“Oh, my poor lady, God be with you. I dared not speak to you before. Your son is safe. Do you know what I mean? He is as safe as you or me.”
She kept looking at him, unable to take it into her mind; that is to say, her mind had flashed upon it, seized it at the first word, yet—with a dumb horror holding hope away from her, lest deeper despair might follow—would not allow her to believe.
“What—did you say? You are trying to make me think——” And then she broke off, and cried out “Walter!” as if she saw him—as a mother might cry who saw her son suddenly, unlooked for, come into the house when all believed him dead—and fell on her knees,—then from that attitude sank down upon herself, and dropped prostrate49 on the ground.
Mr. Cameron was alarmed beyond measure. He knew nothing of faints, and he thought the shock had killed her. But what could he do? It was against his nature to leave a stranger helpless. He took off his coat and covered her, and then hurried to the door and called up Macalister’s wife, who was dozing78 in a chair.
“I think I have killed her,” he said, “with my news.”
“Then ye have found him?” the three old people said together, the woman clasping her hands with a wild “Oh hon—oh hon!” while Symington came forward, trembling, and pale as death.
“I had hoped,” he said, with quivering lips, “like the apostles with One that was greater, that it was he that was to have delivered——Oh, but we are vain creatures! and now it’s a’ to begin again.”
“Is that all ye think of your poor young master? He is living, and will do well. Go and take up the poor lady. She is dead, or fainted, but it is with joy.”
And then he went up-stairs. Many an intimation of sorrow and trouble the minister had carried. But good news had not been a weight upon him hitherto. He went to the other poor mother with trouble in his heart. If the one who had been so brave was killed by it, how encounter her whose soft nature had fallen prostrate at once? He met Mysie at the door, who told him her mistress had slept, but showed signs of waking.
“Oh, sir, if ye could give her something that would make her sleep again! I could find it in my heart to give her, what would save my poor lady from ever waking more,” cried the faithful servant; “for oh, what will she do—oh, what will we all do without Miss Oona?”
“Mysie,” cried the minister, “how am I to break it to her? I have just killed the poor lady down-stairs with joy; and what am I to say to your mistress? Miss Oona is safe and well—she’s safe and well.”
“Oh, Mr. Cameron,” cried Mysie, with a sob42, “I ken2 what you are meaning. She’s well, the Lord bless her, because she has won to heaven.”
Mrs. Forrester had woke during this brief talk, and raised herself upon the sofa. She broke in upon them in a tone so like her ordinary voice, so cheerful and calm, that they both turned round upon her with a kind of consternation79.
“What is that you are saying—safe and well—oh, safe and well. Thank God for it; but I never had a moment’s doubt. And where has she been all this weary night; and why did she leave me in this trouble? What are ye crying for, Mysie, like a daft woman? You may be sure, my darling has been doing good, and not harm.”
“That is true, my dear lady—that is true, my dear friend,” cried the minister. “God bless her! She has done us all good, all the days of her sweet life.”
“And you are crying too,” said Oona’s mother, almost with indignation. “What were you feared for? Do you think I could not trust God, that has always been merciful to me and mine? or was it Oona ye could not trust?” she said with smiling scorn. “And is she coming soon? For it seems to me we have been here a weary time.”
“As soon—as she can get out of the—place where she is. The openings are blocked up by the ruin.”
“I had no doubt,” said Mrs. Forrester, “it was something of that kind.”
Then she rose up from the sofa, very weak and tottering80, but smiling still, her pale and faded face looking ten years older, her hair all ruffled81, falling out of its usual neat arrangement. She put up her hands to her head with a little cry.
“Bless me,” she said, “she will think I have gone out of my senses, and you too, Mysie, to take my bonnet82 off and expose me, with no cap. I must put all this right again before my Oona comes.”
Mr. Cameron left her engaged in these operations, with the deepest astonishment83. Was it a faith above the reach of souls less simple? or was it the easy rebound84 of a shallow nature? He watched her for a moment as she put up her thin braids of light hair, and tied her ribbons, talking all the time of Oona.
“She never was a night out of her bed in all her life before; and my only fear is she may have gotten a chill, and no means here of making her comfortable. Mysie, you will go down-stairs, and try at least to get the kettle to boil, and a cup of tea for her. Did the minister say when she would be here?”
“No, mem,” said Mysie’s faltering85 voice; “naething but that she was safe and well; and the Lord forgive me—I thought—I thought——”
“Never mind what you thought,” said Mrs. Forrester briskly, “but run down-stairs and see if you can make my darling a good cup of tea.”
By the time she had tied her bonnet strings86 and made herself presentable, the full light of the morning was shining upon the roused world. The air blew chill in her face as she came down the staircase (strangely weak and tottering, which was “just extraordinary” she said to herself), and emerged upon the little platform outside. Several boats already lay on the beach, and there was the sound of the voices and footsteps of men breaking the stillness. Mrs. Forrester came out with those little graces which were part of herself, giving a smile to old Symington, and nodding kindly87 to the young men from the yacht who were just coming ashore88. “This is early hours,” she said to them with her smile, and went forward to the little group before the door, surrounding Mrs. Methven, who still lay where Mr. Cameron had left her, incapable89 of movement. “Dear me,” said Mrs. Forrester, “here have I been taking up a comfortable room, and them that have a better right left out of doors. They have given us a terrible night, my child and yours, but let us hope there has been a good reason for it, and that they will be none the worse. They are just coming, the minister tells me. If ye will take the help of my arm, we might step that way and meet them. They will be glad to see we are not just killed with anxiety, which is what my Oona will fear.”
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1
fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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ken
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| n.视野，知识领域 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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impetus
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| n.推动，促进，刺激；推动力 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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attenuated
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| v.（使）变细( attenuate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）变薄；（使）变小；减弱 | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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relinquished
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| 交出，让给( relinquish的过去式和过去分词 )； 放弃 | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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vaults
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| n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 )；地下室；撑物跳高；墓穴 | |
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salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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miseries
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| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
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glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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opaque
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| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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47
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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prostrated
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| v.使俯伏，使拜倒( prostrate的过去式和过去分词 )；（指疾病、天气等）使某人无能为力 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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pealing
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| v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的现在分词 ) | |
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almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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deprivation
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| n.匮乏；丧失；夺去，贫困 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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clamorous
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| adj.吵闹的，喧哗的 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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78
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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tottering
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| adj.蹒跚的，动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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82
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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84
rebound
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| v.弹回；n.弹回，跳回 | |
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85
faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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87
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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