Portent and Other Stories, The | Page 6

tell like a fairy tale.--There were two brothers, sons of the chief
of our clan, but as different in appearance and disposition as two men
could be. The elder was fair-haired and strong, much given to hunting
and fishing; fighting too, upon occasion, I dare say, when they made a
foray upon the Saxon, to get back a mouthful of their own. But he was
gentleness itself to every one about him, and the very soul of honour in
all his doings. The younger was very dark in complexion, and tall and
slender compared to his brother. He was very fond of book-learning,
which, they say, was an uncommon taste in those times. He did not care
for any sports or bodily exercises but one; and that, too, was unusual in
these parts. It was horsemanship. He was a fierce rider, and as much at
home in the saddle as in his study-chair. You may think that, so long
ago, there was not much fit room for riding hereabouts; but, fit or not
fit, he rode. From his reading and riding, the neighbours looked
doubtfully upon him, and whispered about the black art. He usually
bestrode a great powerful black horse, without a white hair on him; and
people said it was either the devil himself, or a demon-horse from the
devil's own stud. What favoured this notion was, that, in or out of the
stable, the brute would let no other than his master go near him. Indeed,
no one would venture, after he had killed two men, and grievously
maimed a third, tearing him with his teeth and hoofs like a wild beast.
But to his master he was obedient as a hound, and would even tremble
in his presence sometimes.
"The youth's temper corresponded to his habits. He was both gloomy
and passionate. Prone to anger, he had never been known to forgive.

Debarred from anything on which he had set his heart, he would have
gone mad with longing if he had not gone mad with rage. His soul was
like the night around us now, dark, and sultry, and silent, but lighted up
by the red levin of wrath and torn by the bellowings of thunder-passion.
He must have his will: hell might have his soul. Imagine, then, the rage
and malice in his heart, when he suddenly became aware that an orphan
girl, distantly related to them, who had lived with them for nearly two
years, and whom he had loved for almost all that period, was loved by
his elder brother, and loved him in return. He flung his right hand
above his head, swore a terrible oath that if he might not, his brother
should not, rushed out of the house, and galloped off among the hills.
"The orphan was a beautiful girl, tall, pale, and slender, with plentiful
dark hair, which, when released from the snood, rippled down below
her knees. Her appearance formed a strong contrast with that of her
favoured lover, while there was some resemblance between her and the
younger brother. This fact seemed, to his fierce selfishness, ground for
a prior claim.
"It may appear strange that a man like him should not have had instant
recourse to his superior and hidden knowledge, by means of which he
might have got rid of his rival with far more of certainty and less of risk;
but I presume that, for the moment, his passion overwhelmed his
consciousness of skill. Yet I do not suppose that he foresaw the mode
in which his hatred was about to operate. At the moment when he
learned their mutual attachment, probably through a domestic, the lady
was on her way to meet her lover as he returned from the day's sport.
The appointed place was on the edge of a deep, rocky ravine, down in
whose dark bosom brawled and foamed a little mountain torrent. You
know the place, Duncan, my dear, I dare say."
(Here she gave me a minute description of the spot, with directions
how to find it.)
"Whether any one saw what I am about to relate, or whether it was put
together afterwards, I cannot tell. The story is like an old tree--so old
that it has lost the marks of its growth. But this is how my grandmother
told it to me.--An evil chance led him in the right direction. The lovers,

startled by the sound of the approaching horse, parted in opposite
directions along a narrow mountain-path on the edge of the ravine. Into
this path he struck at a point near where the lovers had met, but to
opposite sides of which they had now receded; so that he was between
them on the path. Turning his horse up the course of the stream, he
soon