Short Story

Lake County Press, Issue 2637, 22 June 1916, Page 7

Short Story

iubliched by Special Arm' gement

NyiLady of tbe Snow,

BEATRICE HERON-MAXWELL,

Author of "The Skirts of Chance, &c., &c.

Continued from last week. "I have never believed it," she answered coldly, "any more than I believed the other lies that were told about him. Felix was incapable of anything mean or base ; the baseness and cowardice were in the inventor of such calumnies." lie staied at her for a moment with a strange look. Then he said, "Listen, Ismay. I won't pretend to misunderstand you any longer. You love Felix, and you hate me. But even if he were alive—and that is impossible —he should not stand between us. I mean to win you sorao day." "Never," she said proudly, "I would not marry you if my salvation depended upon it." "But I have sworn that you shall," he answered, under his breath. She smiled with disdain. "The day that the manor is yours, I leave it," she said, "but at present it is my home and this is my own sit-ting-room." He could not stay after that, but he had a dark look on his face as he went away. My little lady was restless all

through that day and she said to me, "1 am sure it is Felix, and if it is Felix he will come to-morrow." When the morning came she sat looking out into the garden with such a wistful gaze; I dared not hope that Mr. Felix would really come, yet she seemed so sure of it. It began to show about three in the afternoon, and by four itwas coining down so thick and fast that even the terrace was a foot or two deep with it. I left her, when I went down to the housekeeper's room for my tea, nestled up in the window seat, looking out at the storm. I fancied she was waiting for her cousin, though why she felt so certain that it was he I could not tell. About six o'clock we heard wheels coming up the drive, and presently a loud ring at the front door. "That's Mr. Felix's voice, Mrs. Mason," I said, starting up, "he has come back safe after all." And I ran along the hall, thinking Miss Ismay would be there to greet him. Sir Jaspar was standing at the library door white and scared, and Mr. Hew and Mr. Felix were facing "each other in the hall. "We understood," said Mr. Hew. "that you were dead. This is a pleasant surprise." ''A good many things have been understood about me that were false," answered Mr. Felix with a steady voice and look. "I have come to explain the mistake to my uncle." He was brown and worn-looking, as

thin as a lath, and with patches of grey in his hair, but any woman with a pair of eyes and a heart would have chosen him rather than Mr. Hew, all sleek contentment and red-and-white healthiness. Sir Jaspar came forward at that with both hands held out. "I am glad to see you, Felix," he said, "and if I made a mistake and you can prove it, I shall be gladder still." It did not surprise me, for I knew the old man had brooded over it in secret and repented of his harshness long since; ana I believe he had begun to waver about Mr. Hew, who took his own way more every day. Mr. Felix looked round, and you, should have seen his tired eyes light up when they caught sight of me. "Lucy," he cried, "how bonny you look! Where is your little lady 7" I went to find here, and while I was away they looked for her about the house, but she had gone—vanished as she did that day three years since. Mr. Felix turned and went towards the door. He guessed, I knew, as I did, where she must be. "My cousin must be found," he said ; I'll drive aleng the road." The driver who had brought him from the station demurred at taking him. "It's not fit for man nor beast," he said. "I was going to ask the Squire to let me bide here till the storm was by." But Mr. Felix would not take no. "You shall have your price," he said, "but you must drive me back as far as Disley Corner."

Mr. Hew wanted to go too, but Mr. Felix said peremptorily he would take no one but me and old Hicks, tho butler. I was wild with fright about my little lady, for if she had gone, hoping to meet him, and had waited at the Corner, how was it he had passed and never seen her? We had to go at a snail's pace, for the snow "was three feet deep in the middle of the road, and great drifts against the hedges that a horse might sink into and find it hard to get out. Mr. Felix walked at one side of the road and Hicks at the other with lanterns; and I, fevered with impatience, had to sit in the carriage, for they would not let me out. At last we got to the corner, and I would stay in no longer. Oh! it was cruel; the wild wind, and the driving, slashing snow, nnd I could scarcely keep my footing up the bank, waist-deep in the drift as I was. And just as I reached the top I heard 'Mr. Felix give a cry, and I nearly stumbled over him where he knelt, bending over a mound of snow, and calling to Hicks to come and help him. I snatched at the lantern, which he had set down, and held it up, brushing j away the soft, wet flakes that clung and caked against the glass and smothered the light. Ana sure enough it was my little lady, lifeless and still, called to rest by the snow, as her mother had been. Her dress and cloak were all sodden, and the hood clung to her white face; and when they lifted her, her hands fell limply down at either side. They put her on the wide front seat of the carriage, and wrapped her round in the rug, and I laid her sweet head on my shoulder, and wound my arms about her, vainly trying to give my warmth and life to win back hers—so precious and so dear. My heart felt all frozen and dead like her. I couldn't have cried or spoken or even prayed. I seemed to be shut in with my little dead lady and a great black' wall of despair round us both. She must have waited and waited, sick at. heart with longing (for Mr. Felix's train was an hour late ami more) and the cold had numbed her so that she fell asleep there in the

(lip, and tho snow drifted over her and made a shroud. It seems now like a dream —the long, slow drive home, the silent group at the door, through which they carried her, straight to the library, and laid her on Sir Jaspar's great couch, opposite tho fire. And then Mr. Felix, keeping all out except Airs. Mason and me, told us just what to do, until the doctor, for whom they had sent, should come—so that if any flicker of life remained —ah! what a mockery to think it possible, with that death-white face, and those pale lips, and fast-closed eyes—it might not go out altogether. And like the waking from that awful dream comes back the moment when the miracle for which at last I prayed, came true. I felt her fingers flutter in mine, and I saw her eyelids quiver, and then a long, deep breath parted her lips. 1 called softly to. Mr. Felix to come, and when she opened her eyes they rested first on him. She has told me since that her first thought was that she was dead and in heaven, and had found her cousiu there. A little tremulous smile came round her lips, and she said faintly, "You were Felix Lawrence, were you not?" '. ■ He did not answer, only knelt besido her and signed to mo to give him the warm milk and brandy which was waiting for her, and then ho tended her like he used to do in the old days, as if she were a oaby-sister. Presently she said again, "I knew that you were Felix Lawrence. You won't go away again, Felix?"- And he answered, "Never more, if you will let me stay, Ismay." And with that the life seemed to flow back into her face and the light into her eyes, and I, like the foolish thiug I was, could choke back my sobs no longer, and had to run out into the

hall, else she would have heard me and been startled. Mr. Hew caught my arm—he was waiting there with Sir Jaspar for the doctor—and his face was all working, and ho stammered —"Is there no hope, Lucy?" "She is alive," I sobbed, "she has come back to us," and then I laughed and cried, and was quite demented for a while, until Mrs. Mason came to the library door and said that Miss Isniay wanted me, and I quieted down at that. She was sitting up against the sofa cushions by that time, and Mr. Felix still kneeling beside her- and I never saw her look more radiant or more beautiful; "Lucy," she said, "it seems too good to bo true; he has come back, and it is just .as I thought-he has done splendid things, and all the world is talking of him." Mr. Felix laughed and said I was not to believe a word of that, but she put her hand oyer his lips to stop him i and he kissed it. And then, for there was no one beside me in the room, he took her in his arms and gave her his first lover s kiss; and he said to me, "Lucy, this is going to be my little wife, and that is tho most splendid thing that could ever happen to me." I never heard what passed between him and Sir Jaspar, but they were together a long time next morning and then Mr. Hew, who had heen keeping out of the way, was sent for, and ho looked a different man when he came out, as indeed he had done ever since tho'night of Mr. Felix's return. It was no grief, or surprise either, to any of us, when Mr. Hew left the Manor a few days afterwards. He said he was only going away on a visit, but we knew well enough he would never darken the Manor doors again. His game was played out, and he had risked so much on it, that he could not blame anyone but himself if he cut the ground from under his feet. He had put all his own faults and wrong-doings on to Mr. Felix's shoulders, and made his uncle believe that the gambling debts and the other troubles were his cousin's, when all the time they were his own. Sir Jaspar would have been much more harsh with him, but Mr. Felix did not want that. He was quite content when his name was cleared. He had met a man on his travels who had told him what a scapegrace Mr. Hew was, and could give him proofs of it. iiut he would not have any quarrelling. Still Mr. Hew knew he would never get anything more from his uncle, and he could not bear to look on at Miss Ismay's happiness with Mr. Felix, and so he went, and no one missed him.

So my little lady is going to marry her first and last love; and she says it must not bo until her next birthday, and then the snow must be falling, and she will be a "white bride." Sir Jaspar is softened now. I think in his heart of hearts ho is glad and proud that his nephew has done so well, and that there will be a Matunn worthy of the name to succeed him at the Manor. _ : For he is getting older, is bir Jaspar, and it is time there should be someone else to take care of my little lady. (The End). FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. He Did His Best. Or, the Right Stuff in Emergency. With a fresh coat of paint, and with shining woodwork and polished brass, the Osprey lay at the boat-landing, all ready for the first trip of the season. Mr. Hardy was busy with the engine. and the boys, Allan and Bruoe, stood on the float and watched every movement their father made. "Time for the crew to come aboard, said Mr. Hardy, presently, and with a whoop of delight, the boys vaulted the railing. .„'',, , "Now, boys," said Mr. Hardy, gravely, "I want to remind you before we start that this is a trial trip for vou as well as for the Osprey. To-day I shall appoint my officers, first and second mate. I shall watch to see which boy remembers what ho learned last season, which one obeys orders quickly, and which does his work better. Now look alive! We must be off. Allan, fill the oilcups. Bruce, cast off the painter and stow it on the

forward deck." . .. I In a few minutes they were on; the hoys cheered as the Osprey gained headway and skimmed across the waves. Bruce, stood in the bow, and laughed as the spray dashed into his face; but Allan sat by his father's side and gravely watched the engine. When an oil-cup* was empty, Allan deftly filled it; when the end of a rope came near the whirling wheel, he removed it without a word. But Bruce did not do so well. When it was his turn to ' fill an oil-cup, he handled the can hurriedly and spilled the oil; he burned his fingers on the exhaust-pipe, and dropped the boat-hook overboard when ho tried to help at the landing. Mr. Hardy said nothing, but at the end of the trial trip he made Allan first mate, and Bruce second mate—on probation.

On probation! Bruce know what those words meant, and they awakened his pride. "1 must do my best," he said to himself. "Just suppose that after my week of probation I was made 'crew!' " But although he resolved to do bis 1 best, Bruce did not intend that Allan I should know how hard lie was trying or how much he cared. That was'not Bruce's way. And that was why ho ' seemed indifferent when Mr. Hardy gave the boys some simple instructions about running; the engine.

"You may not ho able to start the , engine for some time vet," said Mr. Hardy,, "but you can both learn to stop it. This little switch," ho said, as lie pointed to a tiny black handle at tho side of the boat, "controls the electric spark that explodes in the cylinder and supplies tho power that makes the boat go. You have only to pull out tho switch—so— and tho' engine will stop. Homember that." Allan listened to every word, but Bruce swung his heels and whistled. But Mr. Hardy knew his second mate well, and he was sure that both boys were learning in their different ways'. Before a week had passed, Allan had learned to start the engine, with his father's help at the heavy wheel, but Bruce was still second mate—on probation. Bruce did want to learn, but

in trying to cover tho fact thnt lie cared, he made many blunders. Mr. Hardy was patient with him and praised him whenever there was a chance. But Allan, pleased with his own success, became rather boastful, and in many ways made it hard for the second mate. Finally, the proud day came when Allan took charge of the boat and was permitted to invito his mother to be a passenger. Mrs. Hardy sat in the stern, in the seat of honour; Bruce stood in the bow. and steered; Mr. Hardy sat on the stern overhung. After a gallant wrestle with the heavy wheel. Allan started the engine, and off they went. The second mate steered a straight course for the open sea. "I can manage the boat all alone, mother," Allan boasted. "Do you want to see me?" Mrs. Hardy smiled and nodded. "Let me steer now, Bruce!" called Allan, as he took the side wheel. Without a word, Bruce dropped the wheel, and crouched down in a corner. His mother could see that ho was trying to hide his chagrin. Suddenly a lobster-buov appeared in sight directly ahead. Allan saw it at the last minute, and suddenly whirled the wheel round as he tried to avoid it. The boat swerved quickly, and they heard a cry and a splash. Father had disappeared. "Father's overboard I" cried Allan. "What shall wo do?" Mrs. Hardy cried out helplessly, hut Bruce sprang to his feet and jumped for the switch. One pull on tho little black handle, and the engine stopped. A few minutes later, dripping and breathless, Mr. Hardy climbed aboard. "Good boy, Allan!" he said, as soon as he could get his bVeath. "You stopped the boat just in time. If you had run away from mo, I could never have made shoro." "But I didn't stop the boat, father," confessed Allan. "1 didn't think of it. Bruce did." "Pooh! I didn't do anything;" stammered Bruce, and tried to hide his reddened face behind his mother. But Mr. Hardy drew him gently to his side and laid an approving hand on his shoulder. "You did well, my son," he said. "You acted promptly, and you used your head. That's the kind of man captain's always want, so for that j reason I appoint you captain's aid, a position second to none. From this day on, you. are to be my right-hand man, and remember. I shall expect good service, your very best." " "I'll try, father," said Bruce. "Indeed I Willi" ~ „ "I'm sure you will," said Mr. Hardy, as ho smiled down into the earnest little face. "And now, my hearties, let's speed for homo!"