“There, be off, you, in the name of Heaven,” said another, pushing me through a small door that opened into a shrubbery; “down that lane as fast as you can, and keep to the right after you pass the fish-pond.”
“It wouldn't be bad to swim to one of the islands!” muttered another; but the counsel was overruled by the rest.
By this time, the contagion of terror had so completely seized upon me that I yielded myself to the impulse of the moment, and, taking the direction they pointed out, I fled along the path beneath the garden wall at full speed.
In the unbroken stillness I could hear nothing but the tramp of my own feet, or the rustling of the branches as I tore through them. I gained at last the open fields, and with one hurried glance behind to see that I was not pursued, still dashed onwards. The young cattle started off at full speed as they saw me, and the snorting horses galloped wildly here and there as I went.
Again, beneath the shade of a wood I would have halted to repose myself, but suddenly a sound came floating along the air, which swelled louder and louder, till I could recognize in it the deep, hoarse bay of dogs, as in wild chorus they yelped together; and high above all could be heard the more savage notes of men's voices cheering them on and encouraging them. With the mad speed of terror, I now fled onward; the very air around me seeming to resound with the dreadful cries of my pursuers. Now tumbling headlong over the tangled roots, now dashing recklessly forward through stony watercourses or fissured crevices of ground, I ran with mad impulse, heedless of all peril but one. At some moments the deafening sounds of the wild pack seemed close about me; at others, all was still as the grave around.
I had forgotten every direction the men had given me, and only thought of pressing onward without any thought of whither. At last I came to a rapid but narrow river, with steep and rugged banks at either side. To place this between myself and my pursuers seemed the best chance of escape, and without a second's hesitation I dashed into the stream. Far stronger than I had supposed, the current bore me down a considerable distance, and it was not till after a long and tremendous effort that I gained the bank. Just as I had reached it, the wild cry of the dogs again met my ears; and, faint and dripping as I was, once more I took to speed.
Through dark woods and waving plains of tall grass, over deep tillage ground and through the yellow corn, I fled like one bereft of reason,—the terror of a horrible and inglorious death urging me on to efforts that my strength seemed incapable of making. Cut and bleeding in many places, my limbs were at last yielding to fatigue, when I saw at a short distance in front of me a tall but dilapidated stone wall. With one last effort I reached this, and, climbing by the crevices, gained the top. But scarcely had I gained it when my head reeled, my senses left me, and, overcome by sickness and exhaustion, I fell headlong to the ground beneath.
It was already evening when I came to myself, and still lay there stunned, but uninjured. A wild plain, studded over with yellow furze bushes, lay in front, and beyond in the distance I could see the straggling huts of a small village. It was a wild and dreary scene; but the soft light of a summer's evening beamed calmly over it, and the silence was unbroken around. With an effort, I arose, and, though weak and sorely bruised, found that I could walk. My faculties were yet so confused that of the late events I could remember but little with any distinctness. At times I fancied I had been actually torn and worried by savage dogs; and then I would believe that the whole was but a wild and feverish dream, brought on by intense anxiety and care. My tattered and ragged clothes, clotted over with blood, confused, but did not aid, my memory; and thus struggling with my thoughts, I wandered along, and, as night was falling, reached the little village of Shanestown. Directing my steps towards a cabin where I perceived a light, I discovered that it was the alehouse of the village. Two or three country people were sitting smoking on a bench before the door, who arose as I came forward, half in curiosity, half in respect; and as I was asking them in what quarter I might find a lodging for the night, the landlord came out. No sooner did his eyes fall on me than he started back in seeming terror, and, after a pause of a few seconds, cried out,—