The Frozen River.

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 2090, 31 January 1896, Page 3

The Frozen River.

T A CHRISTMAS STORY. By R. MURRAY GILCHRIST. * The ballroom at Grindlow Manor was ready for the dancers. All day of the men servants had worked strenuously with beeswax and brushes, and the sound oaken floor glistened like burnished «ieel. There were lights everywhere I—in 1 —in the sconces that swung bofore drowsy mirrors, in the big candelabra that vibrated like drowsy pendulums. and in silver holders on the table of the music gallery. The chamber was empty, save for the three musicians, who were tuning their instruments for a rehearsal. The two old men were the principals of the village choir —one had a double bass. ihe other a violin; the third was a youth from the market town. He h;ul brought a new harp, which his companions viewed with much interest, for they had never seen such an instrument before.

"Well, 1 will say one thing," the harpist remarked, "my lady Everard knows •how to make folk comfortable. I've played for many a county family, but I've never been received as kindly. In this sort of weather it goes to a man's heart."

"Ay, my lady's a good sort." the vtulinist replied. 1 do b'lieve as her a*' Miss 'Livia hain't got their marrows i' th' land. Chrusmas 'ld be dull 1' Grindlow wi'out 'em. But. askin' yere pardon, young sir, them things be pedals, be nt they? I've oft wanted to examine an 'arp, for good King David he played o' one."' At that moment a door in the room Joe low swung open, and a girl entered. She was not mere than nineteen years old —a dark, slender little creature with raven Mack hair. She wore a gown of white silk, with a dark bodice. A band of velvet, with a pendant of diamonds encircled her neck. There was something so exquisitely happy in her face that the three men could do nothing but She stood for awhile breathing the warm air that was lightly perfumed with the aromatic smoke of the

pine-log.-'. Another door opened, and a young man paused on the threshold. Hi was tall and stalwart, with a fair .skin and auburn moustache. His eyes brightened as he saw her: he came m-arer and held out his arms.

"Let us have a dance. Olivia." he paid. "Jt will be an hour before any of the guests come." He looked up at the gallery. "Play a waltz—something soft and low."

The musicians began an easy, oldfashioned waltz that had been in vosruo ever since that dance had been introduced into this country, and the young couple swayed gently round the room. They were so engrossed in their happiness—that afternoon Olivia had promised to many her lever—that they did not notice a dark face at the door. It was withdrawn instantly, but anyon * might have seen the figure of a man stationed there, and have heard th • sharp indraughts of his breath. "I'm out of breath. Ascott." Olivia said soon. "Let us sit down and talk. .My mother will nL>t he in the draw intercom for a long time, and even Cousin John can't have come yet. He is to skate over from Mardale—the river is frozen."

The music did not cease. Ascott Leighton drew to a spinule-legged settee that stood beneath the gallery. "I w-vn't to ask you something." he paid gravely. "I hadn't courage to mention it before. . . . Has your C<iujsin John ever said anything to the effect that he cared fov you? I have seen him watching you in a strange wav."

Olivia flushed. "lie <li 1 once ask rrv to marry him." she said. "That wa? a year ago, and —I love! you even then. Beside*, even if I ha-', eared for him. my mother would never have- consented—you know he has "fits of madness—there was once some talk >f confining him to his house. At the best he is sullen; his temper is terrible. W • agreed well enough as children. hut he made ir.e hate him. I once saw bin. beating his mare frightfully because she would nor fac- a and I ha\ 1 rev-T liked him siive." Just th> n Lady Lverard made her nppearaw.-. She was a comely matron of fcriy-;i\e. in her own way almost as charming •»* Olivia. She wore dowcolored wivt-t and pearls: a lan of yellow ostrieh feathers hung at h- r side. "My deai* child." sh • exclaimed. "I have been looking for you everywhere. Tour Cousin John came long ag'>. It is 4ime we 'aviv ready for th" people. I paw the lights of several cv rriages coming alone the avenue." Thev went together o> ih-- large drawing-room. John Lveiard was sitting tli>-r . apparently engrossed in a book. K • took no heed of their entrance. Soon there came a sound of srrtat uoors flung op:n. and th • firs: guests arrived. Olivia stood with her mother t receive them, while Leighton Went to Everar.i's side and began to talk: but the young man made no r -ply. ■turning towards him a face livid with hatred. Leighton recoil-d, and moved to the other end of tie- nx-m, not. however. v.iih' ut hearinj cold, shrill "whisper "By Heaven. I'll make >'• u suffer for 4c-day's work.'" The room filled <;uickly, and Olivia was soon able to return to her lowr. 'As the clock struck ten. Lady Lverard, leaning on the arm of her nearest neighbor. a portly old squire, opened the ball dn statf ly fashion. It had been for many years the custom of the family To begin -with a minuet, and the musicians began to play. Olivia and Ascctt toed the measure so admirably that even the ancient chape rones, who professed to remember the days when dancing was a fine art. declared themselves entirely satisfied. After the eighth dance Leighton led her through the suite of eastern rooms to the conservatory. The moon was high in the heavens, and her light, combined with the glow of the Chinese lanterns, gave the place a strange, ethereal aspect. Olivia pressed her lover's arm.

"I don't know -.viiat is wrong," she said, "but I feel as if something unpleasant were going to happt-n. Once or twice I caught sight of John watching you. He really looked as if he meant some harm. He left the room long ago. He must have gone liom°." "I'm not at all afraid," he said, with a light laugh; "I think that I'm quite as strong as he is. Anyhow, you must not be unhappy to-night of all nights." Soon they rose to return, but as they passed one of the great windows they saw a curious pageant advancing along the terrace. There was a man dressed in a suit of pasteboard armor, with a monstrous helmet and a lath sword; he was followed by a quaint dragon that hopped awkwardly, and an archer with bow and arrow, and several other characters, all famous in tradition. "They are mummers!" Olivia cried. "They always come on Christmas Eve for the servants. They are going to perform outside. Let's go back just for one iSance, and then slip out together to watch them." In a few minutes they were standing in the forecourt, watching the countrymen perform their antics. Leighton had covered her with a fur cloak. After the thin, nasal voice of St. George had proclaimed for the second time that he was "the Champion of England and feared naught," Olivia was ao amused 293

with the performance that she seat her lover to entreat Lady Everard's permission for thsm to play in the ball room. When he had gone she drew further back, and stood in the shadow of a yew arbor. Suddenly there came a crackling of the frozen ground, and before she could call for help a strong arm grasped her waist and a hand was pressed over her mouth. She saw John Everard's white face close to hers: his eyes were glittering brightly, and his lips drawn aside so that his sharp teeth were visible. "I heard what you said of me, you jade r he hissed. "And now I have you in my power."

He lifted her breast-high, and then, springing over the balustrade, carried her through the long garden and into the park. The place was quite deserted, but he did not pause until he had reached the side of the frozen river. There he placed her, sitting, on the low wall of the water-stairs, and removed his hand from her mouth.

"I am going to tic* your feet so that you cannot escape," he whispered. "Then I shall take you in my arms and drown you far away from here." He drew out a handkerchief and bound her ankles tightly. She gave a loud cry, but cousin John only laughed. "It's of no use making a noise," lie said: "the house is too full of music for any one to hear you. You must submit to your fate in silence." A stone boathouse stood near. He took her inside and donned his skates, which he had left there on his arrival. Then, wivn all the straps were buckled, he caught her again in his arms and went down to the ice.

She was so small and lig-ht that he was able to skate easily. The surface was firm and strong: there Iwd been no snow since the last frost. Instead, however, of turning in the direction of his home, he went eastwards, and she knew that ere long the ice would be broken with the confluence of the moorland streams. "What have 1 done. Cousin John ?" she asked. "Why are you taking; me awnv ?"

•"Because I love you," he replied, bending his head and kissing her brow. "And because, though you do not love me. you shall love no other man." As they reached the bend of thf stream hj" stopped and made her stand on her feet, and drew a little leather case from his pocket. "ff you'll promise to forget all about that fellow and marry me before New Year's Day. I'll take you back." he said, showing her a pistol." Even then I shall not be revenged. 1 intend to shoot him when we return."

She lifted her hand sharply and caught the weapon, and flung it into the sedges. In the pause that followed she heard the bells of a distant village church begin to chime. ' 11 is Christmas morning," she moaned. "Oh. John, do have some nvrry!"

He gave a shrill laugh, and lifted h»r again.

"You have thrown your last chance of life away," he said. "I might have spared you, but now it is too late. 1 have a knife, but you shall not see it." He skated on. Tht character of the scenery changed sharply from pastoral to mo<>rland. High above the river towered huge sandstone rocks; at intervals 1 hey passed under crumbling bridges. Sometimes the lights of a hamlet fell almost on the bank: but no living creature saw them on that terrible journey. At last they reached a Ion?, irregularly-shapen mere, half full of broken rushes that stood above the surface. The sound of falling waters fell on Olivia's ears. At the end of this stretch was a powerful cataract, and for the remainder of its journey seaward the river leaped from one pool to another. "I will give you fivr minutes for your prayers." he said, "and then I shall take you up again and skate over Into the black water. The ice is rotten here. Listen to its breaking." He pressed his feet heavily, and the whole surface cracked. Then he let her sink to a kneeling posture. Meanwhile, ther° was a great commotion at Grindlow Manor. Leighton had easily trained Lady Everard's permission for th" mummers to perform in the ball-room, and had returned to the forecourt just in tim-- to hear indistinctly Olivia's cry for help. Without an instant's delay lie rushed in her direction, and reached the bank as Everard was passing out of sight. He leaped en the ir? and tried to follow, but at every step he slipped and fell. His thin shoes were worse than useless; he tore them off and ran. but even then his progress was so slow that he began to despair. Sudder.lv lie r.-nivinbered that bv crossing the park he might miss a bend of the stream. so he hurried over the ground, and came nearly up t > them when Olivia was throwing the pistol away. They were hidden by the thick undergrowth, and when he got into th- 1 middle of the river they were out of sight. H'* flew on desperately until h-* reached the river. There th- ice had broken with their weight, and between them lay a rapidly-widening sheet of water. Olivia's voic-"- rar.g out in prayer. "Oh. God." he heard her say, "forgive all my sins, and help my poor mother and Ascott ?"' At the mention of his rival's name. Everard caught her arms roughly. "I'll not have you praying for him." lie said. "[ curse him ?" He dragged her nearer and nearer to the pool. With a mighty effort. Leighton leaped over the intervening gulf, and fell face downwards on the further ice. He rose blindly to his feet, and, before Everard was aware of his presence. flung himself fiercely upon him and forced him away from the girl. A struggle began, and the ice broke in great pieces. Olivia was on the point of losing consciousness w hen she heard Asc-ott's voice. "Get to the bank, darling." he muttered. "If you a:c saw J, i don't care about myself." Everard thrust out lvls hand, and strove to push her into the water, but she drew herself away slowly on hands and knees, and. although her body was half submerged, managed to get ashore by grasping the branch of a rowan. Then she untied the handkerchief and stood looking on, sick with horror. A frightful oath burst from Everard's lips. The block of ice on which they fought had sunk; only their shoulders and heads wore above the surface.

"Ascott, conie away—you will be drowned ?" she cried.

The ice shelved on one side, and came up again some yards away, and still they struggled. They were in the midst of a current, and Olivia saw them borne towards a place where the river fell over a steep crag. She staggered to the brink, and caught Leighton's arm: in another minute he was standing beside her, panting loudly. Everard had reached the opposite bank. He crouched there, with a sharp dagger in his hand.

"Give me your hand, Olivia," Leighton said. "We must run now. It is still a matter of life and death."

She caught the train of her gown, and ran up the steep acclivity. Far away in the midst of the moor they saw the light of a homestead. They "turned in its direction, and before long heard the madman's wild cries almost at their heels. He had crossed the stream lower down.

Olivia's strength began to fail. "Leave me," she said. "He can only kill me." Pie lifted her to his shoulder, and ran on with renewed vigor. They reached the house; fortunately the door was unfastened. Leighton threw it open, and closed it instantly, forcing the heavy bolts- into their staples. They found themselves in a large, old-fashipned house place, where a party of homely folk sat telling stories of past festivities. They cried out in alarm at the strange visitors,but Leigh-

ton soon explainad all, and in a short time Olivia was taken >to a warm chamber, where she changed her clothes for some antiquated things belonging to the mistress. Leighton put on the farmer's Sunday suit, and sooon made his appearance, looking so grotesque that the stolidity of even the oldest gamer was shaken. Some of the men went out in search of Everard, and found him sitting in a granary, chattering wildly about the water and the ice. He was locked in a strong chamber, and kept there till the morrow, when they removed him to Mardale, and placed him under charge of a keeper. At morning light an old phaeton was got ready, and the lovers drove back to Grindlow, where Lady Everard's joy at finding them safe was too great to be described. Olivia was very pale and exhausted, and her mother insisted on her resting all day, but in the evening she was permitted to see Ascott again. As they sat together by the fire, she took his hand fondly.

"It is terrible about poor Cousin John." she said; "but it has only made me love you more than ever, for vou saved my life."

"And you saved mine, dearest," he replied—"first by not being killed yourself. and then by drawing me from the water."

She leaned forward and kissed him, as lovers wont.—"Weekly Budget."