So reflects Clancy, as with keen apprehension he listens to the tread of the approaching horseman. For to a certainty he approaches, the dull distant thud of hooves gradually growing more distinct. Nor has he any doubt of its being the same steed late reined up in front of him, the fresh score of whose calkers are there within a few feet of his face.
The direction whence comes the sound, is of itself significant; that in which Darke went off. It is he returning—can be no other.
Yes; surely his end has come—the last hour of his life.
And so near being saved! Ten minutes more, and Brasfort would have disinterred him.
Turning his eyes downward, he can see the cavity enlarged, and getting larger. For the dog continues to drag out the earth, as if not hearing, or disregarding the hoof-stroke. Already its paws are within a few inches of his elbow.
Is it possible for him to wrench out his arm! With it free he might do something to defend himself. And the great stag-hound will help him.
With hope half resuscitated, he makes an effort to extricate the arm, heaving his shoulder upward. In vain.—It is held as in a vice, or the clasp of a giant. There is no alternative—he must submit to his fate. And such a fate! Once more he will see the sole enemy of his life, his mother’s murderer, standing triumphant over him; will hear his taunting speeches—almost a repetition of the scene under the cypress! And to think that in all his encounters with this man, he has been unsuccessful; too late—ever too late! The thought is of itself a torture.
Strange the slowness with which Darke draws nigh! Can he still be in dread of the unearthly? No, or he would not be there. It may be that sure of his victim, he but delays the last blow, scheming some new horror before he strike it?
The tramp of the horse tells him to be going at a walk; unsteady too, as if his rider were not certain about the way, but seeking it. Can this be so? Has he not yet seen the head and hound? The moon must be on his back, since it is behind Clancy’s own. It may be that Brasfort—a new figure in the oft changing tableau—stays his advance. Possibly the unexplained presence of the animal has given him a surprise, and hence he approaches with caution?