The Rainbow

"Tom! Tom! To--o--om!" came her long, unnatural

cry, ringing over the night. It made her son feel cold in his

soul.

And the unconscious, drowning body of the father rolled on

below the house, driven by the black water towards the

high-road.

Tilly appeared, a skirt over her nightdress. She saw her

mistress clinging on the top of a chair in the open doorway, a

candle burning on the table.

"God's sake!" cried the old serving-woman. "The cut's burst.

That embankment's broke down. Whativer are we goin' to do!"

Mrs. Brangwen watched her son, and the lantern, go along the

upper causeway to the stable. Then she saw the dark figure of a

horse: then her son hung the lamp in the stable, and the light

shone out faintly on him as he untackled the mare. The mother

saw the soft blazed face of the horse thrust forward into the

stable-door. The stables were still above the flood. But the

water flowed strongly into the house.

"It's getting higher," said Tilly. "Hasn't master come

in?"

Mrs. Brangwen did not hear.

"Isn't he the--ere?" she called, in her far-reaching,

terrifying voice.

"No," came the short answer out of the night.

"Go and loo--ok for him."

His mother's voice nearly drove the youth mad.

He put the halter on the horse and shut the stable door. He

came splashing back through the water, the lantern swinging.

The unconscious, drowning body was pushed past the house in

the deepest current. Fred Brangwen came to his mother.

"I'll go to th' cart-shed," he said.

"To--om, To--o--om!" rang out the strong,

inhuman cry. Fred Brangwen's blood froze, his heart was very

angry. He gripped his veins in a frenzy. Why was she yelling

like this? He could not bear the sight of her, perched on a

chair in her white nightdress in the doorway, elvish and

horrible.

"He's taken the mare out of the trap, so he's all right," he

said, growling, pretending to be normal.

But as he descended to the cart-shed, he sank into a foot of

water. He heard the rushing in the distance, he knew the canal

had broken down. The water was running deeper.

The trap was there all right, but no signs of his father. The

young man waded down to the pond. The water rose above his

knees, it swirled and forced him. He drew back.

"Is he the--e--ere?" came the maddening cry of the

mother.

"No," was the sharp answer.

"To--om--To--o--om!" came the piercing,

free, unearthly call. It seemed high and supernatural, almost

pure. Fred Brangwen hated it. It nearly drove him mad. So

awfully it sang out, almost like a song.

The water was flowing fuller into the house.

"You'd better go up to Beeby's and bring him and Arthur down,

and tell Mrs. Beeby to fetch Wilkinson," said Fred to Tilly. He

forced his mother to go upstairs.