Bracing her nerves, and steeling her soul against the sense of suffering, she put whip to her horse, and flew on, as before the wind, leaving forest, meadow and hamlet—farm-house, field and flood, far behind her. Again and again the sharp agony arrested her, like the hand of death—but in vain to stop her progress—each time the pang could only delay her a moment, and then on and on she sped, spurning the ground away in her desperate flight.
Before her, in the distance, glimmered the blue Patuxent, the longed-for goal. Oh! that river; for an hour past it had seemed as near as now. Would she ever approach it? On and on she sped, while woods and towns and plains whirled behind her in a mad reel. A fearful change was coming over her. The sense of pain, with all other sense, had gradually left her. A stupor of weariness supervened; her brain reeled, her sight failed. Oh! that river, how it gleamed and disappeared, and gleamed again before her. Would she ever, ever be nearer to it? How dim the sunlight was, and how unsteady the ground; and the boundaries of the sky and earth were molten together and lost; and it was no longer the action of her horse, but the dreadful rocking and upheaving of the ground, that kept her moving, moving, moving, forever. Oh! that river! how it glimmered and sparkled, and sparkled and flashed into her brain. Would she ever, ever, ever reach it, or was she going round in a circle forever? Reason was failing at last—past, present and future—things that were, and things that seemed, swam thickly together upon brain and heart; surely the hour of dissolution had come, for dense darkness and heaviness were settling like grave clods upon brain and heart. Oh! God, that river!—had she really reached it at last, or was it an illusion of delirium? Its waves rolled and flashed in silvery splendor at the foot of the hill, below her feet! But what was that? Angels in Heaven! what was that? A sight to call back ebbing life! Down in the dell, the glitter of bayonets and the glow of scarlet coats—an open square of British infantry, enclosing an execution scene! Clutching the pardon from her bosom, and holding it aloft at arm’s length, she roused her fast failing strength for a last effort, and hurled herself and steed furiously down the hill upon the scene of doom. The flash of steel around her—the gallows tree—the cart—the prisoner—the fatal noose—and more than all, close beside her, the form of him—her own—her Clifton—madly loved in life and death, and then—darkness closed in upon her life, and all was lost.
As the reins fell from powerless hands upon the horse’s neck, the noble animal stood stock still; had he lifted a leg, it must have been fatal to the swooning rider; but he stood like a statue, while her form swayed to and fro for a moment, and then Archer Clifton sprang forward and received her in his arms. He picked up the paper as it fell from her stiffening fingers, and guessing its purport, passed it to the officer in command. Then he sank upon one knee, drew her insensible form to and supported it against his breast, while he untied her hat and loosened her spencer.
A little bustle ensued around him; but he did not heed it, bending over Catherine. The execution was stayed, the prisoner released and poor Jack, half-dead with terror before and half mad with joy now, had still strength and sense and affection enough left to run to a spring hard by, and dip up his hat full of water, and the next instant he was kneeling with it by the side of his mistress, to bathe her hands.
“Who is she?” “Where did she come from?” “What is her name?” “Who is the lady?” “Do you know her, sir?” asked some of the officers, crowding around with offers of assistance.
“This lady is my wife, gentlemen! Air! air, if you please!” exclaimed Archer Clifton, waving them off, and giving his sole attention to Catherine. “Kate!”
The sound of that thrilling voice—the clasp of those thrilling arms, had power to call back her spirit from the confines of the invisible world. Her pale, pale eyelids quivered.
“Kate!” he exclaimed again, raising her higher upon his breast.
A shuddering sigh convulsed her bosom—her languid eyes unclosed.
“Kate!”