The Lover's Leap
The Lovers Leap - On--on we go in our headlong course, the turf reechoing to the muffled
strokes of the horses' feet, while the furze, waving in the wind, seemed
to glide by us in a rapid stream. Onward--still onward; the edge of the
gorse appears a dark line in the distance--it is passed; we are crossing
the belt of turf that surrounds it--and now, in what direction will
the mare proceed? Will she take the broad road to the left, which leads
again to the open country by a gentle ascent, where she can be easily
overtaken and stopped; or will she turn to the right, and follow the
lane, which leads across the terrace-field to the brook, swollen by the
late rains into a river? See! she slackens her pace--she wavers, she
doubts--she will choose the road! No; by Heaven! she turns to the right,
and dashing down the lane like a flash of lightning, is for a moment
hidden from view. But the space of time, short as it was, when her speed
slackened, has enabled me to gain upon her considerably; and when
I again catch sight of her she is not more than fifty yards ahead.
Forward! good horse--forward! Life or death hangs upon thy
fleetness. Vain hope! another turn brings us in sight of the brook,
swollen by the breaking up of the frost into a dark, turbulent stream.
Fanny perceives it too, and utters a cry of terror, which rings like a
death-knell on my ear. There seems no possibility of escape for her; on
the left hand an impenetrable hedge; on the right a steep bank, rising
almost perpendicularly to the height of a man's head; in front the
rushing water; while the mare, apparently irritated to frenzy by my
pursuit, gallops wildly forward.
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