Aaron Trow by Anthony Trollope - A complete eBook in pages (18 / 29)

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Aaron Trow by Anthony Trollope
Book, page 18 / 29

and his glaring eyes, and even the roughness of his beard as he
pressed his face against her own; but she could not say whence had
come the blood, nor till her arm became stiff and motionless did she
know that she had been wounded.

It was all joy with her now, as she sat motionless without speaking,
while he administered to her wants and spoke words of love into her
ears. She remembered the man's horrid threat, and knew that by
God's mercy she had been saved. And he was there caressing her,
loving her, comforting her! As she thought of the fate that had
threatened her, of the evil that had been so imminent, she fell
forward on her knees, and with incoherent sobs uttered her
thanksgivings, while her head was still supported on his arms.

It was almost morning before she could induce herself to leave him
and lie down. With him she seemed to be so perfectly safe; but the
moment he was away she could see Aaron Trow's eyes gleaming at her
across the room. At last, however, she slept; and when he saw that
she was at rest, he told himself that his work must then begin.
Hitherto Caleb Morton had lived in all respects the life of a man of
peace; but now, asking himself no questions as to the propriety of
what he would do, using no inward arguments as to this or that line
of conduct, he girded the sword on his loins, and prepared himself
for war. The wretch who had thus treated the woman whom he loved
should be hunted down like a wild beast, as long as he had arms and
legs with which to carry on the hunt. He would pursue the miscreant
with any weapons that might come to his hands; and might Heaven help
him at his need as he dealt forth punishment to that man, if he
caught him within his grasp. Those who had hitherto known Morton in
the island, could not recognise the man as he came forth on that
day, thirsty after blood, and desirous to thrust himself into
personal conflict with the wild ruffian who had injured him. The
meek Presbyterian minister had been a preacher, preaching ways of
peace, and living in accordance with his own doctrines. The world
had been very quiet for him, and he had walked quietly in his
appointed path. But now the world was quiet no longer, nor was
there any preaching of peace. His cry was for blood; for the blood
of the untamed savage brute who had come upon his young doe in her
solitude, and striven with such brutal violence to tear her heart
from her bosom.

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