The knight Sir James Leigh lived in
a remote valley of the Welsh Hills. The manor
house, of rough grey stone, with thick walls and mullioned
windows, stood on a rising ground; at its foot ran
a little river, through great boulders. There
were woods all about; but above the woods, the bare
green hills ran smoothly up, so high, that in the
winter the sun only peeped above the ridge for an hour
or two; beyond the house, the valley wound away into
the heart of the hills, and at the end a black peak
looked over. The place was very sparsely inhabited;
within a close of ancient yew trees stood a little
stone church, and a small parsonage smothered in ivy,
where an old priest, a cousin of the knight, lived.
There were but three farms in the valley, and a rough
track led over the hills, little used, except by drovers.
At the top of the pass stood a stone cross; and from
this point you could see the dark scarred face of
the peak to the left, streaked with snow, which did
not melt until the summer was far advanced.
Sir James was a silent sad man, in
ill-health; he spoke little and bore his troubles
bitterly; he was much impoverished, through his own
early carelessness, and now so feeble in body that
he had small hope of repairing the fortune he had
lost. His wife was a wise and loving woman, who,
though she found it hard to live happily in so lonely
a place with a sickly husband, met her sorrows with
a cheerful face, visited her poorer neighbours, and
was like a ray of sunlight in the gloomy valley.
They had one son, a boy Roderick, now about fifteen;
he was a bright and eager child, who was happy enough,
taking his life as he found it and indeed
he had known no other. He was taught a little
by the priest; but he had no other schooling, for Sir
James would spend no money except when he was obliged
to do so. Roderick had no playmates, but he never
found the time to be heavy; he was fond of long solitary
rambles on the hills, being light of foot and strong.
One day he had gone out to fish in
the stream, but it was bright and still, and he could
catch nothing; so at last he laid his rod aside in
a hollow place beneath the bank, and wandered without
any certain aim along the stream. Higher and
higher he went, till he found, looking about him,
that he was as high as the pass; and then it came into
his mind to track the stream to its source. The
Manor was now out of sight, and there was nothing
round him but the high green hills, with here and
there a sheep feeding. Once a kite came out and
circled slowly in the sun, pouncing like a plummet
far down the glen; and still Roderick went onwards
till he saw that he was at the top of the lower hills,
and that the only thing higher than him was the peak
itself. He saw now that the stream ran out of
a still black pool some way in front of him, that
lay under the very shadow of the dark precipice, and
was fed by the snows that melted from the face.
It was surrounded by rocks that lay piled in confusion.
But the whole place wore an air that was more than
desolate; the peak itself had a cruel look, and there
was an intent silence, which was only broken, as he
gazed, by the sound of rocks falling loudly from the
face of the hill and thundering down. The sun
warned him that he had gone far enough; and he determined
to go homewards, half pleased at his discovery, and
half relieved to quit so lonely and grim a spot.
That evening, when he sate with his
father and mother at their simple meal, he began to
say where he had been. His father heard him with
little attention, but when Roderick described the dark
pool and the sharp front of the peak he asked him
abruptly how near he had gone to the pool. Roderick
said that he had seen it from a distance, and then
Sir James said somewhat sharply that he must not wander
so far, and that he was not to go near that place
again. Roderick was surprised at this, for his
father as a rule interfered little with what he did;
but he did not ask his father the reason, for there
was something peevish, even harsh, in his tone.
But afterwards, when he went out with his mother,
leaving the knight to his own gloomy thoughts, as his
will and custom was, his mother said with some urgency,
“Roderick, promise me not to go to the pool
again; it has an evil name, and is better left to
itself.” Roderick was eager to know the
story of the place, but his mother would not tell
him only she would have him promise; so
he promised, but complained that he would rather have
had a reason given for his promise; but his mother,
smiling and holding his hand, said that it should
be enough for him to please her by doing her will.
So Roderick gave his promise again, but was not satisfied.
The next day Roderick was walking
in the valley and met one of the farmers, a young
good-humoured man, who had always been friendly with
the boy, and had often been to fish with him; Roderick
walked beside him, and told him that he had followed
the stream nearly to the pool, when the young farmer,
with some seriousness, asked him how near he had been
to the water. Roderick was surprised at the same
question that his father had asked him being asked
again, and told him that he had but seen it from a
hill-top near, adding, “But what is amiss with
the place, for my father and mother have made me promise
not to go there again?”
The young farmer said nothing for
a moment, but seemed to reflect; then he said that
there were stories about the place, stories that perhaps
it was foolish to believe, but he went on to say that
it was better to be on the safe side in all things,
and that the place had an evil fame. Then Roderick
with childish eagerness asked him what the stories
were; and little by little the farmer told him.
He said that something dwelt near or in the pool,
it was not known what, that had an enmity to the life
of man; that twice since he was a boy a strange thing
had happened there; a young shepherd had come by his
death at the pool, and was found lying in the water,
strangely battered; that, he said, was long before
Roderick was born; then he added, “You remember
old Richard the shepherd?” “What!”
said Roderick, “the old strange man that used
to go about muttering to himself, that the boys threw
stones at?” “Yes,” said the farmer,
“the very same. Well, he was not always
so I remember him a strong and cheerful
man; but once when the sheep had got lost in the hills,
he would go to the pool because he thought he heard
them calling there, though we prayed him not to go.
He came back, indeed, bringing no sheep, but an altered
and broken man, as he was thenceforth and as you knew
him; he had seen something by the pool, he could not
say what, and had had a sore strife to get away.”
“But what sort of a thing is this?” said
Roderick. “Is it a beast or a man, or what?”
“Neither,” said the farmer
very gravely. “You have heard them read
in the church of the evil spirits who dwelt with men,
and entered their bodies, and it was sore work even
for the Lord Christ to cast them forth; I think it
is one of these who has wandered thither; they say
he goes not far from the pool, for he cannot abide
the cross on the pass, and the church bell gives him
pains.” And then the farmer looked at Roderick
and said, “You know that they ring the bell all
night on the feast of All Souls?” “Yes,”
said Roderick, “I have heard it ring.”
“Well, on that night alone,” said the farmer,
“they say that spirits have power upon men,
and come abroad to do them hurt; and so they ring
the bell, which the spirits cannot listen to but,
young master, it is ill to talk of these things, and
Christian men should not even think of them; but as
I said, though Satan has but little power over the
baptized soul, yet even so, says the priest, he can
enter in, if the soul be willing to admit him, and
so I say, avoid the place! it may be that these are
silly stories to affright folk, but it is ill to touch
pitch; and no good can be got by going to the pool,
and perhaps evil; and now I think I have
told you enough and more than enough.”
For Roderick was looking at him pale and with wide
open eyes.
Is it strange that from that day the
thing that Roderick most desired was to see the pool
and what dwelt there? I think not; when hearts
are young and before trouble has laid its heavy hand
upon them, the hard and cruel things of life, wounds,
blows, agonies, terrors, seen only in the mirrors
of another spirit, are but as a curious and lively
spectacle that feeds the mind with wonder. The
stories to which Roderick had listened in church of
men that were haunted by demons seemed to him but
as dim and distant experiences on which he would fain
look; and the fainter the thought of his promise grew,
the stronger grew his desire to see for himself.
In the month of June, when the heart
is light, and the smell of the woods is fresh and
sharp, Roderick’s father and mother were called
to go on a journey, to see an ancient friend who was
thought to be dying. The night before they set
off Roderick had a strange dream; it seemed to him
that he wandered over bare hillsides, and came at last
to the pool; the peak rose sharp and clear, and the
water was very black and still; while he gazed upon
it, it seemed to be troubled; the water began to spin
round and round, and bubbling waves rose and broke
on the surface. Suddenly a hand emerged from
the water, and then a head, bright and unwetted, as
though the water had no power to touch it. Roderick
saw that it was a man of youthful aspect and commanding
mien; he waded out to the shore and stood for a moment
looking round him; then he beckoned Roderick to approach,
looking at him kindly, and spoke to him gently, saying
that he had waited for him long. They walked
together to the crag, and then, in some way that Roderick
could not clearly see, the man opened a door into
the mountain, and Roderick saw a glimmering passage
within. The air came out laden with a rich and
heavy fragrance, and there was a faint sound of distant
music in the hill. The man turned and looked
upon Roderick as though inviting him to enter; but
Roderick shook his head and refused, saying that he
was not ready; at which the man stepped inside with
a smile, half of pity, and the door was shut.
Then Roderick woke with a start and
wished that he had been bold enough to go within the
door; the light came in serenely through the window,
and he heard the faint piping of awakening birds in
the dewy trees. He could not sleep, and presently
dressed himself and went down. Soon the household
was awake, for the knight was to start betimes; Roderick
sate at the early meal with his father and mother.
His father was cumbered with the thought of the troublesome
journey, and asked many questions about the baggage;
so Roderick said little, but felt his mother’s
eyes dwell on his face with love. Soon after
they rode away; Roderick stood at the door to see them
go, and there was so eager and bright a look in his
face that his mother was somehow troubled, and almost
called him to her to make him repeat his promise,
but she feared that he would feel that she did not
trust him, and therefore put the thought aside; and
so they rode away, his mother waving her hand till
they turned the corner by the wood and were out of
sight.
Then Roderick began to consider how
he would spend the day, with a half-formed design
in his mind; when suddenly the temptation to visit
the pool came upon him with a force that he had neither
strength nor inclination to resist. So he took
his rod, which might seem to be an excuse, and set
off rapidly up the stream. He was surprised to
find how swiftly the hills rose all about him, and
how easily he went; very soon he came to the top;
and there lay the pool in front of him, within the
shadow of the peak, that rose behind it very clear
and sharp. He hesitated no longer, but ran lightly
down the slope, and next moment he was on the brink
of the pool. It lay before him very bright and
pure, like a jewel of sapphire, the water being of
a deep azure blue; he went all round it. There
was no sign of life in the water; at the end nearest
the cliff he found a little cool runnel of water that
bubbled into the pool from the cliffs. No grass
grew round about it, and he could see the stones sloping
down and becoming more beautiful the deeper they lay,
from the pure tint of the water.
He looked all around him; the moorland
quivered in the bright hot air, and he could see far
away the hills lie like a map, with blue mountains
on the horizon, and small green valleys where men dwelt.
He sate down by the pool, and he had a thought of
bathing in the water; but his courage did not rise
to this, because he felt still as though something
sate in the depths that would not show itself, but
might come forth and drag him down; so he sate at
last by the pool, and presently he fell asleep.
When he woke he felt somewhat chilly;
the shadow of the peak had come round, and fell on
the water; the place was still as calm as ever, but
looking upon the pool he had an obscure sense as though
he were being watched by an unclosing eye; but he
was thirsting with the heat; so he drew up, in his
closed hands, some of the water, which was very cool
and sweet; and his drowsiness came upon him, and again
he slept.
When next he woke it was with a sense
of delicious ease, and the thought that some one who
loved him was near him stroking his hand. He
looked up, and there close to his side sate very quietly
what gave him a shock of surprise. It was a great
gray cat, with soft abundant fur, which turned its
yellow eyes upon him lazily, purred, and licked his
hand; he caressed the cat, which arched its back and
seemed pleased to be with him, and presently leapt
upon his knee. The soft warmth of the fur against
his hands, and the welcoming caresses of this fearless
wild creature pleased him greatly; and he sate long
in quiet thought, taking care not to disturb the cat,
which, whenever he took his hand away, rubbed against
him as though to show that it was pleased at his touch.
But at last he thought that he must go homewards, for
the day began to turn to the west. So he put
the cat off his knee and began to walk to the top
of the pass, as it was quicker to follow the road.
For awhile the cat accompanied him, sometimes rubbing
against his leg and sometimes walking in front, but
looking round from time to time as though to consult
his pleasure.
Roderick began to hope that it would
accompany him home, but at a certain place the cat
stopped, and would go no farther. Roderick lifted
it up, but it leapt from him as if displeased, and
at last he left it reluctantly. In a moment he
came within sight of the cross in the hilltop, so
that he saw the road was near. Often he looked
round and saw the great cat regarding him as though
it were sorry to be left; till at last he could see
it no more.
He went home well pleased, his head
full of happy thoughts; he had gone half expecting
to see some dreadful thing, but had found instead
a creature who seemed to love him.
The next day he went again; and this
time he found the cat sitting by the pool; as soon
as it saw him, it ran to him with a glad and yearning
cry, as though it had feared he would not return; to-day
it seemed brighter and larger to look upon; and he
was pleased that when he returned by the stream it
followed him much farther, leaping lightly from stone
to stone; but at a certain place, where the valley
began to turn eastward, just before the little church
came in sight, it sate down as before and took its
leave of him.
The third day he began to go up the
valley again; but while he rested in a little wood
that came down to the stream, to his surprise and
delight the cat sprang out of a bush, and seemed more
than ever glad of his presence. While he sate
fondling it, he heard the sound of footsteps coming
up the path; but the cat heard the sound too, and as
he rose to see who was coming, the cat sprang lightly
into a tree beside him and was hidden from his sight.
It was the old priest on his way to an upland farm,
who spoke fondly to Roderick, and asked him of his
father and mother. Roderick told him that they
were to return that night, and said that it was too
bright to remain indoors and yet too bright to fish;
the priest agreed, and after a little more talk rose
to go, and as his manner was, holding Roderick by the
hand, he blessed him, saying that he was growing a
tall boy. When he was gone and Roderick
was ashamed to find how eager he was that the priest
should go he called low to the cat to come
back; but the cat came not, and though Roderick searched
the tree into which it had sprung, he could find no
sign of it, and supposed that it had crept into the
wood.
That evening the travellers returned,
the knight seeming cheerful, because the vexatious
journey was over; but Roderick was half ashamed to
think that his mind had been so full of his new plaything
that he was hardly glad to see his parents return.
Presently his mother said, “You look very bright
and happy, dear child,” and Roderick, knowing
that he spoke falsely, said that he was glad to see
them again; his mother smiled and asked him what he
had been doing, and he said that he had wandered on
the hills, for it was too bright to fish; his mother
looked at him for a moment, and he knew in his heart
that she wondered if he had kept his promise; but
he thought of his secret, and looked at her so straight
and full that she asked him no further questions.
The next day he woke feeling sad,
because he knew that there would be no chance to go
to the pool. He went to and fro with his mother,
for she had many little duties to attend to.
At last she said, “What are you thinking of,
Roderick? You seem to have little to say to me.”
She said it laughingly; and Roderick was ashamed,
but said that he was only thinking; and so bestirred
himself to talk. But late in the day he went
a little alone through the wood, and reaching the end
of it, looked up to the hill, kissing his hand towards
the pool as a greeting to his friend; and as he turned,
the cat came swiftly and lovingly out of the wood
to him; and he caught it up in his arms and clasped
it close, where it lay as if contented.
Then he thought that he would carry
it to the house, and say nothing as to where he had
found it; but hardly had he moved a step when the
cat leapt from him and stood as though angry.
And it came into Roderick’s mind that the cat
was his secret friend, and that their friendship must
somehow be unknown; but he loved it even the better
for that.
In the weeks that followed, the knight
was ill and the lady much at home; from time to time
Roderick saw the cat; he could never tell when it
would visit him; it came and went unexpectedly, and
always in some lonely and secret place. But gradually
Roderick began to care for nothing else; his fishing
and his riding were forgotten, and he began to plan
how he might be alone, so that the cat would come to
him. He began to lose his spirits and to be dull
without it, and to hate the hours when he could not
see it; and all the time it grew or seemed to grow
stronger and sleeker; his mother soon began to notice
that he was not well; he became thin and listless,
but his eyes were large and bright; she asked him
more than once if he were well, but he only laughed.
Once indeed he had a fright; he had been asleep under
a hawthorn in the glen on a hot July day; and waking
saw the cat close to him, watching him intently with
yellow eyes, as though it were about to spring upon
him; but seeing him awake, it came wheedling and fondling
him as often before; but he could not forget the look
in its eyes, and felt grave and sad.
Then he began to be troubled with
dreams; the man whom he had seen in his former dream
rising from the pool was often with him sometimes
he led him to pleasant places; but one dream he had,
that he was bathing in the pool, and caught his foot
between the rocks and could not draw it out.
Then he heard a rushing sound, and looking round saw
that a great stream of water was plunging heavily
into the pool, so that it rose every moment, and was
soon up to his chin. Then he saw in his dream
that the man sate on the edge of the pool and looked
at him with a cold smile, but did not offer to help;
till at last when the water touched his lips, the
man rose and held up his hand; and the stream ceased
to run, and presently his foot came out of the rock
easily, and he swam ashore but saw no one.
Then it came to the autumn, and the
days grew colder and shorter, and he could not be
so much abroad; he felt, too, less and less disposed
to stir out, and it now began to be on his mind that
he had broken his promise to his mother; and for a
week he saw nothing of the cat, though he longed to
see it. But one night, as he went to bed, when
he had put out his light, he saw that the moon was
very bright; and he opened the window and looked out,
and saw the gleaming stream and the grey valley; he
was turning away, when he heard a light sound of the
scratching of claws, and presently the cat sprang upon
the window-sill and entered the room. It was
now cold and he got into bed, and the cat sprang upon
his pillow; and Roderick was so glad that the cat had
returned that while he caressed it he talked to it
in low tones. Suddenly came a step at the door,
and a light beneath it, and his mother with a candle
entered the room. She stood for a moment looking,
and Roderick became aware that the cat was gone.
Then his mother came near, thinking that he was asleep,
and he sate up. She said to him, “Dear
child, I heard you speaking, and wondered whether you
were in a dream,” and she looked at him with
an anxious gaze. And he said, “Was I speaking,
mother? I was asleep and must have spoken in a
dream.” Then she said, “Roderick,
you are not old enough yet to sleep so uneasily is
all well, dear child?” and Roderick, hating to
deceive his mother, said, “How should not all
be well?” So she kissed him and went quietly
away, but Roderick heard her sighing.
Then it came at last to All Souls’
Day; and Roderick, going to his bed that night, had
a strange dizziness and cried out, and found the room
swim round him. Then he got up into his bed, for
he thought that he must be ill, and soon fell asleep;
and in his sleep he dreamed a dreadful dream.
He thought that he lay on the hills beside the pool;
and yet he was out of the body, for he could see himself
lying there. The pool was very dark, and a cold
wind ruffled the waves. And again the water was
troubled, and the man stepped out; but behind him came
another man, like a hunchback, very swarthy of face,
with long thin arms, that looked both strong and evil.
Then it seemed as if the first man pointed to Roderick
where he lay and said, “You can take him hence,
for he is mine now, and I have need of him,”
adding, “Who could have thought it would be
so easy?” and then he smiled very bitterly.
And the hunchback went towards himself; and he tried
to cry out in warning, and straining woke; and in
the chilly dawn he saw the cat sit in his room, but
very different from what it had been. It was gaunt
and famished, and the fur was all marred; its yellow
eyes gleamed horribly, and Roderick saw that it hated
him, he knew not why; and such fear came upon him
that he screamed out, and as he screamed the cat rose
as if furious, twitching its tail and opening its mouth;
but he heard steps without, and screamed again, and
his mother came in haste into the room, and the cat
was gone in a moment, and Roderick held out his hands
to his mother, and she soothed and quieted him, and
presently with many sobs he told her all the story.
She did not reproach him, nor say
a word of his disobedience, the fear was too urgent
upon her; she tried to think for a little that it
was the sight of some real creature lingering in a
mind that was wrought upon by illness; but those were
not the days when men preferred to call the strange
afflictions of body and spirit, the sad scars that
stain the fair works of God, by reasonable names.
She did not doubt that by some dreadful hap her own
child had somehow crept within the circle of darkness,
and she only thought of how to help and rescue him;
that he was sorry and that he did not wholly consent
was her hope.
So she merely kissed and quieted him,
and then she told him that she would return anon and
he must rest quietly; but he would not let her leave
him, so she stood in the door and called a servant
softly. Sir James was long abed, for he had been
in ill-health that day, and she gave word that some
one must be found at once and go to call the priest,
saying that Roderick was ill and she was uneasy.
Then she came back to the bed, and holding Roderick’s
hand she said, that he must try to sleep. Roderick
said to her, “Mother, say that you forgive me.”
To which she only replied, “Dear child, do I
not love you better than all the world? Do not
think of me now, only ask help of God.”
So she sate with his hand in both of her own, and
presently he fell asleep; but she saw that he was
troubled in his dreams, for he groaned and cried out
often; and now through the window she heard the soft
tolling of the bell of the church, and she knew that
a contest must be fought out that night over the child;
but after a sore passage of misery, and a bitter questioning
as to why one so young and innocent should thus be
bound with evil bonds, she found strength to leave
the matter in the Father’s hands, and to pray
with an eager hopefulness.
But the time passed heavily and still
the priest did not arrive; and the ghostly terror
was so sore on the child that she could bear it no
longer and awakened him. And he told her in broken
words of the terrible things that had oppressed him;
sore fightings and struggles, and a voice in his ear
that it was too late, and that he had yielded himself
to the evil. And at last there came a quiet footfall
on the stair, and the old priest himself entered the
room, looking anxious, yet calm, and seeming to bring
a holy peace with him.
Then she bade the priest sit down;
and so the two sate by the bedside, with the solitary
lamp burning in the chamber; and she would have had
Roderick tell the tale, but he covered his face with
his hands and could not. So she told the tale
herself to the priest, saying, “Correct me,
Roderick, if I am wrong;” and once or twice the
boy corrected her, and added a few words to make the
story plain, and then they sate awhile in silence,
while the terrified looks of the mother and her son
dwelt on the old priest’s strongly lined face;
yet they found comfort in the smile with which he
met them.
At length he said, “Yes, dear
lady and dear Roderick, the case is plain enough the
child has yielded himself to some evil power, but
not too far, I think; and now must we meet the foe
with all our might. I will abide here with the
boy; and, dear lady, you were better in your own chamber,
for we know not what will pass; if there were need
I would call you.” Then the lady said,
“I will do as you direct me, Father, but I would
fain stay.” Then he said, “Nay, but
there are things on which a Christian should not look,
lest they should daunt his faith so go,
dear lady, and help us with your prayers.”
Then she said, “I will be below; and if you
beat your foot thrice upon the floor, I will come.
Roderick, I shall be close at hand; only be strong,
and all shall be well.” Then she went softly
away.
Then the priest said to Roderick,
“And now, dear son, confess your sin and let
me shrive you.” So Roderick made confession,
and the priest blessed him: but while he blessed
him there came the angry crying of a cat from somewhere
in the room, so that Roderick shuddered in his bed.
Then the priest drew from his robe a little holy book,
and with a reverence laid it under Roderick’s
hand; and he himself took his book of prayers and
said, “Sleep now, dear son, fear not.”
So Roderick closed his eyes, and being very weary
slept. And the old priest in a low whisper said
the blessed psalms. And it came near to midnight;
and the place that the priest read was, Thou shalt
not be afraid for any terror by night, nor for the
arrow that flieth by day; for the pestilence that
walketh in darkness, nor for the sickness that destroyeth
in the noonday; and suddenly there ran as it were
a shiver through his bones, and he knew that the time
was come. He looked at Roderick, who slept wearily
on his bed, and it seemed to him as though suddenly
a small and shadowy thing, like a bird, leapt from
the boy’s mouth and on to the bed; it was like
a wren, only white, with dusky spots upon it; and
the priest held his breath: for now he knew that
the soul was out of the body, and that unless it could
return uninjured into the limbs of the child, nothing
could avail the boy; and then he said quietly in his
heart to God that if He so willed He should take the
boy’s life, if only his soul could be saved.
Then the priest was aware of a strange
and horrible thing; there sprang softly on to the
bed the form of the great gray cat, very lean and
angry, which stood there, as though ready to spring
upon the bird, which hopped hither and thither, as
though careless of what might be. The priest
cast a glance upon the boy, who lay rigid and pale,
his eyes shut, and hardly seeming to breathe, as though
dead and prepared for burial. Then the priest
signed the cross and said “In Nomine”;
and as the holy words fell on the air, the cat looked
fiercely at the bird, but seemed to shrink into itself;
and then it slipped away.
Then the priest’s fear was that
the bird might stray further outside of his care;
and yet he dared not try and wake the boy, for he knew
that this was death, if the soul was thrust apart from
the body, and if he broke the unseen chain that bound
them; so he waited and prayed. And the bird hopped
upon the floor; and then presently the priest saw
the cat draw near again, and in a stealthy way; and
now the priest himself was feeling weary of the strain,
for he seemed to be wrestling in spirit with something
that was strong and strongly armed. But he signed
the cross again and said faintly “In Nomine”;
and the cat again withdrew.
Then a dreadful drowsiness fell upon
the priest, and he thought that he must sleep.
Something heavy, leaden-handed, and powerful seemed
to be busy in his brain. Meanwhile the bird hopped
upon the window-sill and stood as if preparing its
wings for a flight. Then the priest beat with
his foot upon the floor, for he could no longer battle.
In a moment the lady glided in, and seemed as though
scared to find the scene of so fierce an encounter
so still and quiet. She would have spoken, but
the priest signed her to be silent, and pointed to
the boy and to the bird; and then she partly understood.
So they stood in silence, but the priest’s brain
grew more numb; though he was aware of a creeping
blackness that seemed to overshadow the bird, in the
midst of which glared two bright eyes. So with
a sudden effort he signed the cross, and said “In
Nomine” again; and at the same moment the
lady held out her hand; and the priest sank down on
the floor; but he saw the bird raise its wings for
a flight, and just as the dark thing rose, and, as
it were, struck open-mouthed, the bird sailed softly
through the air, alighted on the lady’s hand,
and then with a light flutter of wings on to the bed
and to the boy’s face, and was seen no more;
at the same moment the bells stopped in the church
and left a sweet silence. The black form shrank
and slipped aside, and seemed to fall on the ground;
and outside there was a shrill and bitter cry which
echoed horribly on the air; and the boy opened his
eyes, and smiled; and his mother fell on his neck
and kissed him. Then the priest said, “Give
God the glory!” and blessed them, and was gone
so softly that they knew not when he went; for he
had other work to do. Then mother and son had
great joy together.
But the priest walked swiftly and
sternly through the wood, and to the church; and he
dipped a vessel in the stoup of holy water, turning
his eyes aside, and wrapped it in a veil of linen.
Then he took a lantern in his hand, and with a grave
and fixed look on his face he walked sadly up the
valley, putting one foot before another, like a man
who forced himself to go unwilling. There were
strange sounds on the hillside, the crying of sad
birds, and the beating of wings, and sometimes a hollow
groaning seemed to come down the stream. But the
priest took no heed, but went on heavily till he reached
the stone cross, where the wind whistled dry in the
grass. Then he struck off across the moorland.
Presently he came to a rise in the ground; and here,
though it was dark, he seemed to see a blacker darkness
in the air, where the peak lay.
But beneath the peak he saw a strange
sight; for the pool shone with a faint white light,
that showed the rocks about it. The priest never
turned his head, but walked thither, with his head
bent, repeating words to himself, but hardly knowing
what he said.
Then he came to the brink; and there
he saw a dreadful sight. In the water writhed
large and luminous worms, that came sometimes up to
the surface, as though to breathe, and sank again.
The priest knew well enough that it was a device of
Satan’s to frighten him; so he delayed not;
but setting the lantern down on the ground, he stood.
In a moment the lantern was obscured as by the rush
of bat-like wings. But the priest took the veil
off the vessel; and holding it up in the air, he let
the water fall in the pool, saying softly, “Lord,
let them be bound!”
But when the holy water touched the
lake, there was a strange sight; for the bright worms
quivered and fell to the depth of the pool; and a
shiver passed over the surface, and the light went
out like a flickering lamp. Then there came a
foul yelling from the stones; and with a roar like
thunder, rocks fell crashing from the face of the
peak; and then all was still.
Then the priest sate down and covered
his face with his hands, for he was sore spent; but
he rose at length, and with grievous pain made his
slow way down the valley, and reached the parsonage
house at last.
Roderick lay long between life and
death; and youth and a quiet mind prevailed.
Long years have passed since that
day; all those that I have spoken of are dust.
But in the window of the old church hangs a picture
in glass which shows Christ standing, with one lying
at his feet from whom he had cast out a devil; and
on a scroll are the words, de ABYSSIS .
Terrae . Iterum . REDUXISTI .
Me, the which may be written in English, Yea,
and broughtest me from the deep of the earth again.