SHADOWS ON THE SNOW.

Timaru Herald, Volume LXXXIX, Issue 13017, 3 July 1906, Page 2

SHADOWS ON THE SNOW.

(Continued.) The -door'.at-winch the knocked was opened by ia pooiiydressed 'woman, aui the doctor entered with sonue. parcel:, m his hand. . Wiiliam "remained youiside, and. presently.. Dr. Bax beckoned hiin m, saying the pony would stand;siiii, , Ihe room was; very scantily, funshed.. In one corner, on an ola ■ wooaen bedstead', a man lay asleep, ana by his side a child, Wo ; asieep. On the rail at the ic-ot of the bed, so fixed that the child's eyes' should fall upon it when she woke, was a wooden soldier, placed there „by the t doctor;; and the parcels he had; .tjiken'tram the. dogcart were, on a bare deal. table. The woman, who had been ironing', and who .had paused in her work to admit her visitors, was regarding the gifts with tears in her .eyes. "I,.wanted you to look, at our child," said, Doctor Bax to William. "Is sne not beauty?" The mother turned down the coverlid with pride-and affection, to allow William to see the pretty creature. Dr Bax stooped and kissed the child, and William, was impelled to--do likewise. "Has your man complained much today?" asked Dr Bax. ," Yes, allday long; he's asleep now from •sheet-weariness; it-d take.a deal to wake himj. j!; His back has been paining him and all the feeling has gone out iof;Ms legs; He don't know when I am-rubbing them,, poor dear! Before ihe went to/sleep, he wa-j wishing for a. Christmas dinner; afewould'/be he• said*: he;.;shouldever be ; oab%/^o ■%■. ;to say..;; Heaven only laiew-r where ;^ vcpme/irom;; tyntyi ;tb him now.. 'GooV •'•■ wail : bless you, doctor!" ■- • "Game, William,", said Dr Bax hastily, "we must be moving again... Good-night. Some time to-monrow I shall be here to'see how your; mantis/'; /: On the road the doctor said,

"Unless a man chooses to- walk blindly through the world, he can see everywhere about him .sacred and beautiful evidences of lore." More among the poor than among the rich, for, from the very, necessities of their condition, self-sacrifice —the holiest form in which love can show itself—is the mere demanded. The poor woman whom we have just left has not been treated by her husband .with tenderness and, ,qpnsideration. While he was in health, -he squandered his money at the and never saved a penny. Six months ago, he met with an to his back, which will soon endxiis days. Since that time»-he has ( '(been i unable "to move from hie bed, and the woman, without murmuring, , has worked unceasingly for him,and their, child. ti She will'be..up half j, ihrough this night I to finish the washing and Ironing she obtains from her neighbours; and love will uphold" ier, through all. " When'her man die*, after her first passion of grief at that lifting of a4oad from her, she will devote herself to ber' child, whem she will work for with and cheerfulness, grateful for the _burden Jove imposes upon her." t _Dr *Bax cast a furtive glance .-at William, but! the young man's lips were fast set, ancl the downward lines on his, forehead Showed "that though "the "doctor's,., words%advreached him, their meaning was lost upon him." , ' \ T&wifirst vkit was the key-note to, all, -that followed. They went'to "places of the existence'of which William had'hither (x> ibeen' ignorant, and saw scenes of domestic life which would have left a deep impression upon him had the eyes of his mind been open to anything but the contemplation of his own misery. But he was almost, blind to them, so dazed was he with grief- It certainly was not the result of special design—for William was not his companion by 'premeditation, and he had his route carefully marked down—that, wherever Dr Bax stopped, he elicited from the commonest and poorest of tie poor and common people he visited sparks of human love which shone .with a holy light among the ashes of mis-spent and wasted lives. Even from those who had fallen very, very low, and who, snatching the gifts he proffered, threw them aside out of his reach, and thanked him with assumed humility—even from crime, and shame, and sin, that laughed in his face, and mocked his tenderness —even from cunning' ingratitude, which said, ae it accepted his charity, "We have taken what you wished us to take; and now that you have shown yourself off, you may go!" even from the worst of those he did not depart without, with a better cunning than theirs, evoking from their gutternatuies some gleams of human goodness which made them, if only for a few moments, ashamed of their shame and degradation. . Bur if Dr Bax intended to convey,any lesson to his companion—and his frequent anxious glances at William's moody face evidenced a wish to do so—by > admitting him as a witness to these scenes, his design 'was a failure. Their course, though devious', lay,, within a narrow circuit, and wherever they went* they heard the church bells 'chiming the hour. Quarter after i quarter was proclaimed, and William\ became moie and more inattentive to the doctor's demands, and more and more I impatient for the coming >of the moment which was to make or mar ihds happiness. The last visit was paid, the last parcel delivered, the last shilling taken from the doctor's puis>e, and he and William stood by -the eide >cf the empty dogcart. "Jump up," said Dr Bax. William raised his hand, and listened. church clock was chiming;» it wanted but a quarter of an hour to midnight. Mechanically William turned from the doctor, and commenced to walk in the direction of Warleycombe. - "Stop,- William," cried Ue doctor; i" where are you .going ?" " I have an act of- duty and I must be alone," replied' William. Dr Bax hastened after the young maji, jnd arrested'his steps. • ' ' > --"An act- of duty!" he said; "at this time of night?" " At this time of' night; and jio -other.;? " It is troublesome walking- through the «now. Let me set you .on ypw.irpj." ( ; •- ' "I haye-"fold^youTi f *«wst ' He did not speak- -roughly;" his voice ,was cold," and there was a vacant ring in it which pained Dr Bax to ihear. "Not a pleasant duty, William?" " No. Ask me no further questions. Gd6d night." .« ■ . t "> But Dr Box would not so lightly part with him. "You distress me. I thought we were friends." William laughed harshly. The bitter emphasis placed on the word by Stephen Wiukworth had Tobbed it of its good maaning. ■ ■■ '' "The duty before you,", persisted the dec'-or, "is it a secret one?" "It is." "The knowledge of which.is not to be cr'nMed even to me?" ".Not to be confided even to you." ' "Tt is no light duty, William." . "I-wish to God I had-died before it <ja've in- my way 'to perform! I will say ""rip- more, and I cannot stop longer with von." ' ... " ■-■" One other question,": said Dr Bax,

almost imploringly, "only one. -Does Laura know of this?"; ?'! '-*-M William ,with no more force ~than was, necessary, disengaged himself from the doctor, and waving his hand in adieu, plungedwildly through the snow. Dr Bax gazed sadly after him until he was out" of sight. "1 hoped to have iad a gcod night's res*," he mused, as he mounted to his ■seat andslowly drove, away, "'and now not a wink ..shall I get—-n»t a -wink! Coufound all mortality; I say-!- +if> : meh took a tenth part, as much pains to make themselves'happy "As they take to make themselves miserable, this would be the blessedest of worlds. Ae it is, I .have no patience with it!" """ *"'" > This being uttered in a tone loud enough for the por.y to hear, drew fccm that wise creature a determined -protest —lie stood stock still, and would not budge an inch in response to haid words and impatient urgings to get on. Not until Dr Bax tried the 'soothing system, and spoke jto him in his usual. mild and affectionate manner, would he allow .himself to ,be coaxed. And even after he had covered two or three hundred yards in his accustomed easy jog-trot, he pulled up again; of his own impuise, to make sure, from his master's gently-spoken (entreaty to put on the eteam, tlat all was right behind. William Fairfield walked so swiftly, that before midnight Warleycombe Lodge was in new. The night was cold j but he was in a hot fever. He looked towards ,the house in expectant dread. There was not a sign of life, within or without. All was silent and still as death. , The snow lay lightly upon roof and eave, upon tree and plain, and made the silence more impressive in ite spiritual effect tha nthe silence which is accompanied with, darkness. A doubt stole upon him' whether what had passed between himself and, Stephen Winkworth was real t or, a dream; but it did not linger in his mind. "I am not mad yet," he muttered, " and I must keep my senses about me, to learn the truth." Stephen could not have lied to him. He conjured up the picture which presented itself to ihim whichever way he turned—the picture of Laura'and her'lover! He saw their lips utter voiceless words of affection; --he saw her, \ the womii* he loved, lay, her head upon this man's shoulder; and he bit blood into his lips with jealous rage. ' Suddenly the silence was invaded by the sound of the Christmas bells,' which pealed joyously" over field and hill, proclaiming 'the birth of peace and love.- To the high-born and lowly alike they sang, the holier themer in the light of which earthly and sordid desires fade utterly away. Dear Bells! that bring glad light to .weary that,-whisper' courage ito vdespairing souls* that instil hope into fainting (hearts—ring on, dear,bells, and teach your lesson anew. -Humanity sits crowned in her throne of love, and a heavenly gloryshines about her -head. Ring, on, dear bells, the time' has borne! Forth into the places where .misery lurks;' where crime and destitution lie in each other's arms; where ignorance (compelled to live, and comprehending nothing but its own. hard laws) breeds'napless generations; where it is <not possible lor virtue to take root and flower—fortb into these places let the angels go! Spotless and pure they enter, with love and pjty, in their radiant eyes; I and Heaven smiles '"upon them as they ' return with dirt-stained wings; the sacred evidence of sacred 'work performed. Ring on,'dear once"'snore your beautiful lesson. /'• >The'niuse. of world; as stirred .with'tender J memories.\The-happy, «mother,ij aroused-'from i sleep; whispers to' her child lying -awake by her side, " Dear child, dear "child,'the Christmas bells are ringing!" The girl-woman, musing on the day that shall make her a happy wife, sings to her heart, to the rhythm of the bells, "Dear love, dear love, the Christmas bells are ringing!" rich man •■miles, the poor rejoices. - Bong on, isweet | Christmas bells. The air is filled with your music, which travels far across the, scow-white land, over forests of trees whose branches gleam with beauty, on to the furious set, where the sailor, battling for dear life with the raging storm, thinks of what is dear to him than life, and cries to his mate in the midst of the darkness, "At 'home ,old boy, the Christmas bells are ringing!" . ~' They rang in jWilliam Fairfield's ears, and bewildered him. He was deaf to their tender whisperings; they jarred upon his soul, and he strove, with a wild motion of his arms, to cast them aside, so that he might reflect undisturbed upon of the girl to whom he iad given his heart. ~ , "

This was his Christmas Eve! 'Next Christmas they were to have a merry party at their own' house; it • had k been arranged that "night. If he proved Stephen's i tale to be true, where would his next Christmas be spent? He laughed in helpless His future was blasted. What recked he now yheie qr how his life was passed?j (j • , , , ,-.

' Some short distance, from .Warleycombe Lodge, but old gnarled tree, prolific in queerly-knottect' excrescences and twisted -limbs and branches. It was-' so, old' that there had rotted away, at its base, a space sufficiently large to allow a jman to seat himself easily. Here William mechanically rested; and, with a weaxy body but active mind, set himself to the task of watching Reuben Harrild's house. Above, him spread, the fantastic branches of the 'tree, hung witsh icicles, and fringed with delicate and graceful traceries in snow. Even in the midst of his rapt attention of the Jiouse, he ja-void being struck with their beauty, and at odd moments he turned bis eyes upwards^o l observe them. Presently a upon him. The branches "assumed weird shape and form. Crooked-twigs became transformed into grotesque figures, perfect in limb j and j feature, and though' -there was not one, among'themwthjatrwaif nofc<tiat-of all Tea-1 .sonable proportion,'*, not. tone seemed mon-1 'strous. They were all pigmies, and sat or stood in: unnatural with their | .legs twined under them, with their arms | -curled around their bodies, with their faces between their knees; here an elf, with his back to William, rand his head .-turned jpver his shoulder ..to gape,"at.him; - there a dwarf, lying at full length, and bending over, towards Mm, at da dangerous-angle. The;^famjl»«?TWdv,<W?BHia c 'figures were many end,of animation game-'to their bodies. Motion ,*caojl«fc#''to * /their 1 Climbs, expression to their, features. Some smiled with the familiarity of old acquaintance- i ship; others frowned with severe cause; and one old fellow ,with a great, knot in thai middle of his forehead eyed, him so sternly tshat he turned away in- anger at the delusion which : he had allowed to take possession of his senses. As he turned, his attention was attracted to the beautiful appearance bf'the hedgerow which lined the boundary of .Reuben Harrild's land. It was nearly man high; and as he gazed into the tangled -skeins of bare and naked bush, snow-lined in purest white, he saw a thousand startling pictures in the maze. And there-r-wonder upon wonder—was the same stern old man with the knot in his foiehead, eveing him mere seiiouslr than ever, o"*id. wtfh a monstrously disproportionate finger, beckoninar him to'"approach. Whom did -this old mnn resemble? Hi« f:ire. .was s-rely familiar to William. Ah, yes. It was Dr

Bar. No; Stephen Winkworth. Wrong again. It was one 'oi the worst of the persons .to.whom the little doctor had don* good that* night. Wrong again. It was the toy sojdier which Dr Bax ihad fastened to the fbdt of the'child's bed. Still wrong. It was Alice, the deformed girl, with her 6'ilken hair cut short. Wrong once more. It was an entirely^.strangeJace-^a^.fa.ce,he ' had never seen .before. 1 • - William';' rubbed his eyes; there still stood the grim old man-with the gigantic finger, bidding him to- come. " '■■-■■-".•.i-~>t':~z-i. ■'-, "' •