Just then, the gallop of a horse was distinctly heard on the gravel walks. Eva uttered a cry of happiness that reached every heart. I can never forget the divine expression of joy which instantly lit that face, still bedewed with tears.
We both rushed to the steps. The moon at this moment broke forth from the clouds, and shone full on a horse, covered with foam, and riderless, whose bridle dragged the ground, whilst the empty stirrups beat against his dusty sides. Another cry this time, a dreadful one, burst from Eva’s lips. She then turned toward me, her eyes fixed, her lips parted, and her arms dropping listless by her side.
“My friends,” I said, to the frightened domestics, “light torches, and follow me. Madame, we will return soon, and, I trust, with your husband, who may be slightly hurt—a stumble, perhaps; do not despond, we will soon return.”
“I will follow you,” murmured Eva Meredith, in a choking voice.
I told her that it was impossible. “We must go swiftly,” I said, “perhaps a great distance; and in the state you are in, it would be risking your own life as well as your child’s.”
“I will follow you,” she replied.
O! then I felt how sad was the loneliness of this woman. If a father or mother had been there they would have commanded her to stay, they would have detained her forcibly; but she was alone on earth, and to my earnest entreaties, she still answered hoarsely, “I will follow you.”
We set out, but clouds now hid the moon; there was no light in the heavens, nor on the earth, and we could scarcely grope our way by the unsteady blaze of our torches. The servant led the way, and waved the torch he held from right to left, to light the ditches and streams by the road-side. Behind him Madame Meredith, the gardener, and myself watched the glare of light, seeking with anguish for some object to present itself. From time to time we raised our voices, and called on William Meredith, and after us a stifled sob murmured the name of William, as though her heart depended on the instinct of love to make her sobs heard sooner than our shouts.
We reached the woods. The rain began to fall, and the drops pattering on the leaves sounded so mournful, it seemed that all was weeping around us.
The thin garments Eva wore were soon saturated by the cold rain. The water streamed from the hair and forehead of the poor young woman. She bruised her feet against the stones in the road, and frequently tottered, and was on the point of falling; but she sustained herself with all the energy of despair, and continued on her way.