A to Z Classics - Bram Stoker - The Complete Novels

As we went along Dick gave me all details regarding the property which he and Mr. Caicy had bought for me. Although I had signed deeds and papers without number, and was owner in the present or in future of the whole hill, I had not the least idea of either the size or disposition of the estate. Dick had been all over it, and was able to supply me with every detail. As he went on he grew quite enthusiastic — everything seemed to be even more favorable than he had at first supposed. There was plenty of clay; and he suspected that in two or three places there was pottery clay, such as is found chiefly in Cornwall. There was any amount of water; and when we should be able to control the whole Hill and regulate matters as we wished, the supply would enable us to do anything in the way of either irrigation or ornamental development. The only thing we lacked, he said, was limestone, and he had a suspicion that limestone was to be found somewhere on the hill.

“I cannot but think,” said he, “that there must be a streak of limestone somewhere. I cannot otherwise account for the subsidence of the lake on the top of the Hill. I almost begin to think that that formation of rock to which the Snake’s Pass is due runs right through the Hill, and that we shall find that the whole top of it has similar granite cliffs, with the hollow between them possibly filled in with some rock of one of the later formations. However, when we get possession I shall make accurate search. I tell you, Art, it will well repay the trouble if we can find it. A limestone quarry here would be pretty well as valuable as a gold mine. Nearly all these promontories on the western coast of Ireland are of slate or granite, and here we have not got lime within thirty miles. With a quarry on the spot, we can not only build cheap and reclaim our own bog, but we can supply five hundred square miles of country with the rudiments of prosperity, and at a nominal price compared with what they pay now.”

Then he went on to tell me of the various arrangements effected — how those who wished to emigrate were about to do so, and how others who wished to stay were to have better farms given them on what we called “the main-land”; and how he had devised a plan for building houses for them — good solid stone houses, with proper offices and farmyards. He concluded what seemed to me like a somewhat modified day-dream:

“And if we can find the limestone — well, the improvements can all be done without costing you a penny; and you can have around you the most prosperous set of people to be found in the country.”

In such talk as this the journey wore on till the evening came upon us. The day had been a fine one — one of those rare sunny days in a wet autumn. As we went I could see everywhere the signs of the continuous rains. The fields were sloppy and sodden, and the bottoms were flooded; the bogs were teeming with water; the roads were washed clean — not only the mud but even the sand having been swept away, and the road-metal was everywhere exposed. Often, as we went along, Dick took occasion to illustrate his views as to the danger of the shifting of the bog at Knockcalltecrore by the evidence around us of the destructive power of the continuous rain.

When we came to the mountain gap where we got our first and only view of Knockcalltecrore from the Galway road, Andy reined in the mare, and turned to me, pointing with his whip.

“There beyant, yer ‘an’r, is Knockcalltecrore — the Hill where the threasure is. They do say that a young English gintleman has bought up the Hill, an’ manes to git the threasure for himself. Begor, perhaps he has found it already. Here, gee up, ye ould corn-crake! What the divil are ye kapin’ the quality waitin’ for?” and we sped down the road.

The sight of the Hill filled me with glad emotion, and I do not think that it is to be wondered at. And yet my gladness was as followed by an unutterable gloom — a gloom that fell over me the instant after my eyes took in the well-known hill struck by the falling sunset from the west. It seemed to me that all had been so happy and so bright and so easy for me, that there must be in store some terrible shock or loss to make the balance even, and to reduce my satisfaction with life to the level above which man’s happiness may not pass.

There was a curse on the hill! I felt it and realised it at that moment for the first time. I suppose I must have shown something of my brooding fear in my face, for Dick, looking round at me after a period of silence, said suddenly:

“Cheer up, Art, old chap! Surely you, at any rate, have no cause to be down on your luck. Of all men that live, I should think you ought to be about the very happiest.”

“That’s it, old fellow,” I answered. “I fear that there must be something terrible coming. I shall never be quite happy till Norah and all of us are quite away from the Hill.”

“What on earth do you mean? Why, you have just bought the whole place.”

“It may seem foolish, Dick; but the words come back to me and keep ringing in my ears: The mountain holds, and it holds tight.’”

Dick laughed.

“Well, Art, it is not my fault, or Mr. Caicy’s, if you don’t hold it tight. It is yours now, every acre of it; and, if I don’t mistake, you are going to make it in time — and not a long time either — into the fairest bower to which the best fellow ever brought the fairest lady! There now, Art, isn’t that a pretty speech?”

Dick’s words made me feel ashamed of myself, and I made an effort to pull myself together, which lasted until Dick and I said good-night.

I cannot say the night was a happy one. There were moments when I seemed to lose myself and my own anxieties in thoughts of Norah and the future, and such moments were sweet to look back on — then as they are now; but I slept only fitfully and dreamt frightfully.

It was natural enough that my dreams should centre around Knockcalltecrore; but there was no good reason why they should all be miserable or terrible. The Hill seemed to be ever under some uncomfortable or unnatural condition. When my dreams began, it was bathed in a flood of yellow moonlight, and at its summit was the giant Snake, the jewel of whose crown threw out an unholy glare of yellow light, and whose face and form kept perpetually changing to those of Murtagh Murdock.

I can now, with comparatively an easy effort, look back on it all, and disentangle or give a reason for all the phases of my thought. The snake “wid side whishkers” was distinctly suggested the first night I heard the legend at Mrs. Kelligan’s; the light from the jewel was a part of the legend itself; and so on with every fact and incident. Presently, as I dreamed, the whole Mountain seemed to writhe and shake as though the great Snake was circling round it, deep under the earth; and again this movement changed into the shifting of the bog. Then through dark shadows that lay athwart the Hill I could see the French soldiers, with their treasure-chest, pass along in dusky, mysterious silence, and vanish in the hill-side. I saw Murdock track them; and, when they were gone, he and old Moynahan — who suddenly and mysteriously appeared beside him — struggled on the edge of the bog, and, with a shuddering wail, the latter threw up his arms and sank slowly into the depths of the morass. Again Norah and I were wandering together, when suddenly Murdock’s evil face, borne on a huge serpent body, writhed up beside us; and in an instant Norah was whirled from my side and swept into the bog, I being powerless to save her or even help her.

The last of all my dreams was as follows: Norah and I were sitting on the table rock in the Cliff Fields; all was happy and smiling around us. The sun shone and the birds sang, and as we sat hand in hand the beating of our hearts seemed a song also. Suddenly there was a terrible sound — half a roar, as of an avalanche, and half a fluttering sound, as of many great wings. We clung together in terror, waiting for the portent which was at hand. And then over the cliff poured the whole mass of the bog, foul-smelling, foetid, terrible, and of endless might. Just as it was about to touch us, and as I clasped Norah to me, so that we might die together, and while her despairing cry was in my ear, the whole mighty mass turned into loathsome, writhing snakes, sweeping into the sea!