The great rain.
Gavin passed on through Windyghoul, thinking in his
frenzy that he still heard the trap. In a rain
that came down like iron rods every other sound was
beaten dead. He slipped, and before he could
regain his feet the dog bit him. To protect himself
from dikes and trees and other horrors of the darkness
he held his arm before him, but soon it was driven
to his side. Wet whips cut his brow so that he
had to protect it with his hands, until it had to bear
the lash again, for they would not. Now he had
forced up his knees, and would have succumbed but
for a dread of being pinned to the earth. This
fight between the man and the rain went on all night,
and long before it ended the man was past the power
of thinking.
In the ringing of the ten o’clock bell Gavin
had lived the seventh part of a man’s natural
life. Only action was required of him. That
accomplished, his mind had begun to work again, when
suddenly the loss of Babbie stopped it, as we may
put out a fire with a great coal. The last thing
he had reflected about was a dogcart in motion, and,
consequently, this idea clung to him. His church,
his mother, were lost knowledge of, but still he seemed
to hear the trap in front.
The rain increased in violence, appalling even those
who heard it from under cover. However rain may
storm, though it be an army of archers battering roofs
and windows, it is only terrifying when the noise
swells every instant. In those hours of darkness
it again and again grew in force and doubled its fury,
and was louder, louder, and louder, until its next
attack was to be more than men and women could listen
to. They held each other’s hands and stood
waiting. Then abruptly it abated, and people could
speak. I believe a rain that became heavier every
second for ten minutes would drive many listeners
mad. Gavin was in it on a night that tried us
repeatedly for quite half that time.
By and by even the vision of Babbie in the dogcart
was blotted out. If nothing had taken its place,
he would not have gone on probably; and had he turned
back objectless, his strength would have succumbed
to the rain. Now he saw Babbie and Rintoul being
married by a minister who was himself, and there was
a fair company looking on, and always when he was
on the point of shouting to himself, whom he could
see clearly, that this woman was already married,
the rain obscured his words and the light went out.
Presently the ceremony began again, always to stop
at the same point. He saw it in the lightning-flash
that had startled the hill. It gave him courage
to fight his way onward, because he thought he must
be heard if he could draw nearer to the company.
A regiment of cavalry began to trouble him. He
heard it advancing from the Spittal, but was not dismayed,
for it was, as yet, far distant. The horsemen
came thundering on, filling the whole glen of Quharity.
Now he knew that they had been sent out to ride him
down. He paused in dread, until they had swept
past him. They came back to look for him, riding
more furiously than ever, and always missed him, yet
his fears of the next time were not lessened.
They were only the rain.
