Our Novelettes.

Western Star, Issue 962, 4 July 1885, Page 2 (Supplement)

Our Novelettes.

A DRIVE JN THE SNOW.

(Continued.) She ea : d nothing; but the tsars were brimming over in the sweet dark ejes, the head drooped, and the hand in his trembled nervously. " Surry, you shall answer me !" he cried, sternly. "Do you love him P" Then she looked up. her face aB white as the snow a-oind, her eyes full of passionate despiir, but her mou'h set hard and resolute.

" You have no right to ask me such a question," she atij, coldly; "you presume upon my forbearance; and I refuse to answer it."

" Very well, Sunny; I know what that means, of course," he returned, hi* eyes flashing almost in triumph. " And, if you imagine I am going to let that confounded prig marry ycu in epite of yourself, you are vnstly m'sta'ken! No, indeed ! I shall meet him at the station instead of you, and then he can go back to London by the next train." In this audacious and high-handed manner the young fellow would have Battled it all — indeed he raw nothing but the greatest propriety in this cool and summary mode of disposing of Mr Houghton ; but Sunny, though she might be betrayed into a momentary weakness, had no idea of consenting to any such way of oxtricating herself from her engagement. She would keep her word scrupulously to the letter, if not to the spirit. No argument he might brirg forward, no entreaties he could use—and how strong the least of his were she only knew—should make her false to her own standard of honour and good faith. *' Are you mad, cousin Fred ?" she cried, angrily. "You have no right to draw any conclusions from what I say, or make any comments because I will not answer your impertinent questions. Your inferences are all wrong. If you eay one word to Mr Houghton, I will never speak to you again. As to breaking off my engagement, you must have curious ideas of honour and good faith to imagine that 1 should consent to so dishonourable a proceeding." "Honour and good faith! How much good faith is there in marrying a man that you do not love?" he asked, in indignant scorn.

"If you will persist in drawing false conelusions from my wordsi Fred, it is your own fault. I have said no such a thing." " But is this not true, Sunny ?" •'We will let the subject drop, please," she said in a voice of cold displeasure and indifference.

"As you wish," he returned, in a tone as cold as her own, but with an expression that promised very little in the way of quiet acquiescence in any scheme concerning Mr Houghton's matrimonial happiness. In complete silence they accomplished the remainder of the drive to Keswick, SSunuj guiding her horses almost mechanically, and never moving her eyes off the reins ; Fred staring before him at the grand panorama of lake and mountain, and plainly never seeing one single feature of it all. Presently Sunny drew up her horses at the covered porch of the station. Fred jumped down. " I will send a porter to mind the horses," he said. .And you had better go into the waiting-room and get well warmed before the train arrives."

"Very well," responded Sunny, quietly. " I will not wait," he went on; " Foster may keep mehalf an hour. Besides there is that business at the High Scarf Farm to settle." He paused a moment to consider. "The train is Bure to be late," he concluded, *' so I should have time to arrange that affair if I walked back at once, and you could pick me up somewhere as you pass." "We can wait at Lodore for you," suggested Sunny. "Very well. Do not be later than four o'clock. Those clouds over Scawfell look ominous, and we might be caught in a storm and Will you hand me down my gun and my black bag, please ?" Sunny haudad them to him—first the gun, then the shot pouch, and lastly a small heavy bag. With the latter he took her hand and hefd it fast, while with steady blue eyes he looked up into her face. The red colour blazed up like a flame into her oheeks, her dark soft [eyes met his shyly for a moment, wavered, turned away, and dropped beneath bis keen searohiug gaze.

Mr Houghton's train was very late. At four o'clock the waggon, instead of being at Lodore, was jnst leaving the s'ation at Keswick. Sunny hurrisd the horses on as fast as possible. Great snow-clouds were «wooping down from Borrowdale to meet the travellers, and almost the last remnaut of daylight faded as they turned from the streets into the high-road by the lake-side. Mr Houghton sat inside the waggon. He was a handsome man, witn a calm intellectual face, deep-set gray eyes, and an ominously firm mouth. His manner was stiff and unbending, and there seemed something wanting of kindliness or sympathy in the unvarying cold courtesy and calmness of his demeanour. He might be. and was without doubt, an honourable and high-minded man, but he was a most uncomfortable lover. As Fred had prophesied, he hac been not a little annoyed to find only Sunny and a waggon awaiting his arrival at the station. He had listened coldly to her apologies, and had declined with stiff politeness her offer to give up the reins to him, alleging his want of knowledge of the road as an excuse.

" I hope I shall not have to make many more journeys to Bossthwaite," he was saying, rather crossly, as they drove slowly on. " You have not made so very many," rejoined Sunny, half rebelliously, thinking of the half-dozen times she had welcomed her lover to her home.

"Do you think so ?" he said, coldly. " J warned you, Susannah, long ago, that I should not be able to run down often to see you. My time is of too much value to others as well as myself. But I want to speak to you on another matter. I think it is time something was settled." "Settled!" echoed. Sunny, turning a pair of sweet startled eyes to him. " Yes. We have been engaged some time now, and I should wish our marriage to take place soon." " Soon 1" sho echoed again. " When ? What do you mean ?" "In two or three months," he pursued, calmly. "I do not wish to hurry you; but I think about March would be best."

" Oh, not so soon as that, please, Horace I" she pleaded. " I—l " "Why not?" he inquired, in a measured tone. "There is nothing to hinder it. I have made all necessary arrangements as regards the house. My mother and sister have kindly consented to stay with us for the first year to assist you in your unaccustomed " " What ?" interrupted Sunny, turning to him sharply. " My dear Susannah, you are singularly abrupt. I repeat my mother and my Bister will live with ua for a yew. We have con-

eluded it is the bestarrangement, as jou are so inexperienced. I wish you to consider the time snttled —about the middle of March. You will name your own day, of course." " Sunny muttered something that, sounded suspiciously like " I shall do no such thing;" but her lover went on, deliberately—

"It's a serious step, and I can understand your reluctance; but I think you have bad lons 1 enough for consideration. Will the twentieth suit you?" " No, it will not," onswerod Sunny, most thoroughly roused, not only at the cool matter-of-fact tone and utter absence of any sign of affection, but aho at the very unexpected expedient to covor her supposed deficiencies.

" Why not, may' I ask ?" he enquired, stifly. " Becauso I do not wish it," she retorted in high displeasure. "In this case your wishes should give place to mine," ho said, calmly determined. "My arrangements are all and—excuse my plain speaking—l cannot altor them to suit what seems to me like foolish ciprice."

Sunny siH nothing. She sit looking straight before her, a confused chaos of bitter thoughts and feelings running riot in her mind, the blank long yenrs stretching away before her, with all the beauty and brightness crushed out of them.

'* So I shall consider it settled," her lover began again, presently, when he thought he had given her time for due reflection. "And I shall hope to be here again on the twentieth of March."

"Tt will be of no use to trouble yourself to come then." said Sunny, coolly.

"Why not?"

"Because I will not be married."

" May I ask you to explain ?" he inquired, as cold as ice.

" Certainly," she said, haughtily, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushing. "There are two things you have mentioned, Mr Houghton, that no power on earth shall make me consent to. I will not be married a single day before I choise myself—certainly not on the twentieth March and "—here Sunny drew herself up with a stately gesture, as she faced him steadily—" when I am married I will never go to a home that owes allegiance to anv mistress save myself, nor will 1 submit to any interference save from my husbandleast of all from those who have judged me hardly and lightly of me beforehand."

" Your remarks, to say the least, are highly improper," he returned, with calm severity. *« I can only conclude you forget to whom and of whom you are speaking." Sunny retorted with bitter words, and they had a desperate qnarrel. If he was cold and sarcastic, she was passionate and scornful, and the war of words raged hot and bitterly Neither would give in. The long smoulderin" discontent on her side and the passive disapprobation on his burst out into fierce flame, all the worse for the long repression 5 and when at length the lights of the Lodore inn appeared such hard and angry : words had passed between them —such hot, scornful truths from Sunny, and such stern, bitter wrath from him—that no power on earth could bring these two together again. Sunny drew up her horses mechanically before the inn door. Mr Houghton jumped down and stood by the shafts, his face white with rage.

" Farewell, Mis 3 Eossthwaite," he said, wifc [cutting irony—" I cannot thank you too muct for your plain speaWng." " Nor I you for your courteous consideration," she retorted, proudly.

He took off his hat with a ceremonious bow, to which Sunny replied by one as stately, and then he disappeared through the door of the inn. Sunny sat still for half a moment, and then, forgetting her promise to wait at Lcuore for Fred, she, started her horses and drove away into the dim thick night. Half an hour afteawards Fred went striding along the road after the waggon j the business at High Scarf had detained him, and the snow had so blocked up the roads that he had to make a long round to reach Lodore. The weather had changed. A great cloud of snow filled the valley with white whirling flakes. It was bitterly cold, with a wild wind sweeping down from the mountains and driving the snow before it. Fred pressed on as swiftly as possible, a great fear of what might have happened to Sunny in the storm and darkness filling his heart with dread. "And that confounded lover of hers nothing but a hindrance," he muttered, as he turned the corner into the road leading to the Hoar Stones, and tried to peer ahead through the drifting snow. " I do not see anything of them. iVisn'l had a light. How the wind does swoop down here!" He struggled and stumbled on for a few yards further, when, without any warning, he plunged waist-deep into a snowdrift. " Good heavens," he ejaculated, as he struggled out and shook the loose feathery snowflakes from him " the snow must have fallen in over the Hoar Stones! Where can Sunny beP" He looked anxiously round. The high bank of snow through which they had pas3ed io the morning had fallen in, nothing lay before him but a great blank sheet of drift with the new snow already levelling it to one smooth sweep. ■«' Sunny!" he shouted. A faint sound from the left seemed to reach him through the howling of the wind, Fighting desperately with storm and darkness, he turned towards whence the sound emanated, shouting loudly as he went. In a few minxes he came upon the waggon, turned over on its side and half buried in enow, the horses lying motionless where they had first fallen. No traces of Sunny or Mr Houghton were to. be seen. " Sunny, Sunny," called out Fred, desperately, " where are you P" A faint dolorous sound from the interior of the waggon seemed to reassure him. In another moment he had clambered up and into the vehicle, and was peering anxiously into the darkness. In the furthest corner, covered in furs and rugs, was Sunny, dreadfully frightened, utterly helpless, but quite unhurt Fred lifted her out quite unceremoniously and set her down on tha roadside. " Good heavens, Sunny," ho ejaculated, staring at her in bewilderment, " are you alone ?" "Yes," faltered Sunny, in a tragic voice. « thought " " But where is Mr Houghton ?" cried Fred. "He is gone—he is behind "

• Goodness gracious, you don't to Bay he is behind the waggon!" exclaimed Fred, horrified, preparing to climb again over into the drift.

"No, no, he stayed behind at Lodore," said Sunny, hesitating. "Behind at Lodore!" echoed Fred, more bewildered than ever. " What for ? Are we to go back for him ?" "No, I think not," was all Sunny could find to say by way of answer. " What on earth is the meaning of it all P" cried the young fellow, bluntly. " Have you quarrelled with him 9" "Yes," and Mr Houghton's faultless I fiancee l in spite of the snow and cold and her pym stowe in the tragedy, began to laugh.

" Whow'-w-w!" whistled Frod, significantly "Frailty, thy name is woman! Then be is not coming to Rossthwaite at all ?" , "No, replied Sunny, adding, in a brisk voice, "Are you going to stay all night in the snow, cousin Fred ?"

Not if I can help it. Here, sit down while I see after the horses-," and, pulling some ruga and shawls from the heap Sunny had so despised in the morning, bo wrapped heiMn them, and turned again to the waggon. He had not gone a yard before be became aware of a light moving to and fro seemingly in the midst of the snow-drift. "Who is there?' he shouted.

"Eh, Mr Frad, be it yoT a feeble, djcidedly cross voice called back. "A pretty dauco yo've led me!" In a few minutes old Simon came hobbling up, followed by another mm j each carried a lantern. Anxiety, vexation, obstinacy, nnd delight all • struggled together on the old man's faithful fac*.

"I couldna rest when t' storm cum," he explained, "so I just took the lanterns, an me an' Tom we cum. Eh, Miss Sunny, but yo're made a foin do with yo're daft driving to Keswick. Happen yo'll nae be sad contrairy next toime." - ', " Sunny began to laugh again. Old Simon's reproaches [full on deaf ears. Fred took up one of the lanterns, and, went towards the horses. ... ' ■,,* . ~'...; i

"Here, Mr Fred," called out Simonhobbling after him, " I'll get the horsas but; yo' mind Mies Sunny;" and, hurrying past, he began to cut the traces of the imprisoned auimals.:. \ ■• • : ,• ■ ■:

Feed, paused a moment, and then turned back to S unny. He i stood q uite quietly beside her for a minute or two, and then he suddenly raised the lantern and threw a flood of light full on her face. She was standing with downcast eyes, the bright red colour doming and going in her oheeks, and her fingers restlessly pulling the fur trimming, of her jacket. Suddenly, while he looked, great tears stole from under the long dark eyelashes, and her mouth trembled with a suppressed sob. In a moment his arms were round her and his kisses were on his lips. ; . ■ s , ! "It was true then, my darling !". he cried, passionately, drawing her close to him. ''You did care for me in in those old days long ago —you did love me?" "Yes," she whispered, raising her clear shy eyes to his, with the tears shining softly in them 5 " but I thought —I thought " ■ " Well, he interrogated, folding her more closely still, "you thought ?" " I thought you did not care."

"Well, you happened to be mistaken, as you generally are," was the triumphant answer, r, - -i '....' .-■ ,

Neither Sunny nor Fred could ever give a clear account of how they got home that night. Sunny might have been riding in, a fairy chariot instead of on the' broad back of one of the great black cart horses, while Fred might have been treading on eider-down instead of floundering up to his knees in snow, for anything they knew to the contrary. At ton o'clock they reached Kossthwaite, w;et, weary, half frozen, and most blissfully oblivious of their ; recent trials. Mistress Rossthwaite stood on the doorstep; peering anxiously into the gloom, as the procession came up. "Without a word of explanation Fred hurried Sunny into the house. 1 Where is.Mr Houghton ?" inquired the oldlaoy of Simon, looking somewhat doubtfully about her. Old Simon's weather-beaten frosty face wore a most unmistakable grin, and his eyes gleamed with a strange satisfaction.; " I reckon we's seen t' last of him," he replied confidently. "I doubt he's costus fc 1 waggon; but it's chape at t' price." , '■[ "Oh!" uttered Mistress Eosthwaite,' expressively, and she followed the others into the house.

Margharita,