In a while she quickened her pace. From the first, Christian had
judged of her speed as admirable, yet with exulting security in
his own excelling and enduring whatever her efforts. But, when the
pace increased, he found himself put to the test as never had he
been before in any race. Her feet, indeed, flew faster than his;
it was only by his length of stride that he kept his place at her
side. But his heart was high and resolute, and he did not fear
failure yet.
So the desperate race flew on. Their feet struck up the powdery
snow, their breath smoked into the sharp clear air, and they were
gone before the air was cleared of snow and vapour. Now and then
Christian glanced up to judge, by the rising of the stars, of the
coming of midnight. So long--so long!
White Fell held on without slack. She, it was evident, with
confidence in her speed proving matchless, as resolute to outrun
her pursuer as he to endure till midnight and fulfil his purpose.
And Christian held on, still self-assured. He could not fail; he
would not fail. To avenge Rol and Trella was motive enough for him
to do what man could do; but for Sweyn more. She had kissed Sweyn,
but he should not die too: with Sweyn to save he could not fail.
Never before was such a race as this; no, not when in old Greece
man and maid raced together with two fates at stake; for the hard
running was sustained unabated, while star after star rose and
went wheeling up towards midnight, for one hour, for two hours.
Pages:
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56