A Weight of Sorrow—Marrying a Drunkard—Suspense.
A Weight of Sorrow—Marrying a Drunkard—Suspense.
M
eantime Little Wolf had not stirred from her place by the window, neither had she withdrawn her gaze from the desolate scene without. All nature was shrouded in snow. On the ground, on every tree and shrub, and in the air; snow was everywhere. But Little Wolf was too much absorbed in her own reflections to bestow a thought upon the raging storm.
From the graves of her parents, dimly seen through the whirling flakes, her mind had wandered to an equally painful subject, upon which the timely appearance of her beloved friend, Mrs. Tinknor, gave her the longed for opportunity to converse. She had always confided in that lady, as in a mother, and in the present instance, nothing was witheld pertaining to her feelings past and present towards Edward Sherman, and the relation in which he stood to her.
Mrs. Tinknor's previous interview with Tom had in a measure prepared her for Little Wolf's communication, but the tearless eye, so full of anguish, the white cheek and compressed lips, all so unlike her brilliant little friend, struck her painfully; and indignation towards the author of so much wretchedness was the uppermost feeling as, in conclusion, Little Wolf pleadingly asked, "what can I do, my dear Mrs. Tinknor?"
Now Mrs. Tinknor was a mild, undemonstrative woman, not prone to giving advice, but the memory of all the wrongs which shehad endured through the intemperance of her husband, wrongs which had sunk deep within her bleeding heart, nerved her to raise a warning voice, to save, if possible, one whom she really loved from a life, to which it made her shudder to look forward, and she freely and earnestly answered.
"Think no more of one, who, if you were to become his wife, would make your life, beyond all expression, miserable."
Little Wolf laid her hand quickly on that of her friend and looking straight into her eyes said vehemently, "I cannot, no, I cannot do that, could you?"
"Could I, rather, did I," said Mrs. Tinknor, drawing a long breath, "I had not the decision that marks your character, darling, and consequently am a drunkard's wife."
Mrs. Tinknor's voice fell very low, as she repeated the last words, and Little Wolf involuntarily clasped more closely the hand on which she had laid her own.
"You are not, really, what you called yourself, Mrs. Tinknor," she whispered, "nobodycalls Squire Tinknor that, oh, do not talk so."
"I do not like to say it my dear, and I never said it before, but for your sake I lay open the hidden part of my life, and after you have heard me through I shall never give another word of advice as to your future course."
"I was just of your age, darling, and about to be married when an intimate friend said to me," "I'm afraid Mr. Tinknor is fond of drink, I saw him go into one of those drinking saloons." I answered carelessly; for I did not wish her to know that she had made me anxious; but that evening I repeated her words to my lover. He made light of it, and said a friend invited him to drink and he did not like to refuse; that he might be a man among men, that there was no danger, he could stop when he pleased, he only drank socially, never for the love of it.
"But my fears were aroused and I begged him with tears, to give up social drinking all together, and he finally appeared hurt, and finally asked me if I could not trust him, andI said yes; for he was so noble, so full of warm affection, that I was sure I could win him from those habits, which threatened to darken our sky. I ventured forth on a dangerous sea, and clouds and storms have been my portion.
"Spite of all you love him, and he loves you," Little Wolf ventured to say, "and while there is love there is hope, and some little comfort; life is not entirely aimless and barren."
Mrs. Tinknor so pitied Little Wolf, who had so bravely risen above all the misfortunes to which her young life had been subjected, only to sacrifice herself to a most unfortunate attachment, that, for the moment, she was silent not knowing what to say.
"O do not look so hopeless, dear Mrs. Tinknor," said Little Wolf eagerly, "tell me there is something to live for."
"We may, to be good, and do good," said Mrs. Tinknor slowly, as if to make quite sure of answering wisely.
Little Wolf caught at the words, "that isjust what you are doing," she said, "and why may not I? I know you think I could not do as you have done; but you do not know how my heart is in this thing. I did not know myself until the trial came, why, Mrs. Tinknor, I could sacrifice my soul for his sake."
"O darling, darling, I cannot bear to hear you say so. I cannot bear to have you sacrifice yourself to one who would not even control a vitiated appetite for your sake. Believe me you will regret it, if you become the wife of an inebriate."
"O he is not that, he is not that."
"He may not have come to that yet, dear child, but you have seen and heard enough to convince you that he is on the road from which few turn back. He has already felt the debasing effects of intoxicating drink and still he keeps on, and shall that noble soul of yours be for a whole life time bound to one with whom eventually there can be no sympathy? God forbid. You may remember, although you were very young, whatyour dear mother's sufferings were; could she speak to you now, what think you would be her advice?"
"O my dear, patient, loving, broken hearted mother," and Little Wolf burst into a paroxysm of tears.
Mrs. Tinknor leaned very tenderly over her young friend and kissed her cheek, and, after this little act of love and sympathy, she went down stairs, without so much as having hinted at the object for which she came. However to the surprise of all, Little Wolf spent the evening in the parlor with her guests, and at her earnest solicitation, they consented to delay their intended departure for a few days.
It was a sore disappointment to Edward Sherman to be obliged to meet Little Wolf day after day under the watchful eye of Tom Tinknor. But, to Little Wolf it was an infinite relief, for Mrs. Tinknor's words "think no more of one who if you were to become his wife, would make your life beyond all expression, miserable," rang continually in herears: and, while her heart prompted her to a different course, her intellect in a measure approved the advice. Consequently she naturally shrank from a private interview, before her mind was fully prepared to meet the exigency.
The subject was not again broached between Mrs. Tinknor and herself until the morning that the first named started for her home, and it was only at the moment of their last fond leave taking, that Little Wolf leaned over the side of the sleigh and whispered in her ear, "I shall never be able to write to you about it, but ifherefuses to accept the condition which I feel Ioughtto make, I will just send you a lock of my hair and you will know it is all over with us."
Her lip quivered as she turned away and as the Squire drove off, Tom who had observed her agitation said to his mother, "she is tender hearted, that savage Little Wolf after all."
Daddy's Diplomacy—A Passage at Arms—Fannie Green—A Catastrophe.
Daddy's Diplomacy—A Passage at Arms—Fannie Green—A Catastrophe.
A
sudden sense of responsibility seemed to fall upon Daddy, as with Little Wolf, he watched the Squire's swift gliding sleigh, and its occupants, until they had dwindled together, a mere speck on the silent river.
'Tween you and me, Honey, it won't du for you to be shiverin, here in the snow. Mr. Tom said I was fur to take care of you when he was gone; 'tween you and me Mr. Tom isoncommon nice young man, oncommon, considerin his father, very oncommon."
"How so Daddy?"
"'Tween you and me he's a teetotaler, out and out, and the Squire ain't. I ketched him sneakin off down to the brewery several times. I kinder think Tom takes after his mother, and its a good sign fur boys to take after their mother. Now there's Mr. Sherman, he takes after his father. His every motion is like the judge. To be sure, the Judge was a wonderful smart man, but then when I lived in them parts he was in the habit of drinkin, pretty heavy. Afore I left he signed the pledge, but there ain't no tellin how he would have turned out if he had lived."
It was plainly to be seen in whose interest Daddy was enlisted. His diplomatic efforts were listened to with great composure and he could only speculate on the result as he went into the house with Little Wolf.
The parlor was in a state of confusion, Mrs. Hawley and Sorrel Tom having combinedforces to raise the greatest possible amount of dust and disorder out of the material at hand; such as the ashes from the Squire's segar inadvertantly dropped, the dirt from Tom's boots which he never remembered to clean, and Daddy's careless litter in making the fire. The light litter was easily disposed of, but the inevitable stain left by the melted snow upon the carpet occasioned an angry outburst from Sorrel Top, who did not see her young mistress just behind.
"Tom Tinknor is a filthy fellow," said she, and I'm glad he's gone; he kept me cleaning up after him all the time, and now here's two more great spots to be scrubbed."
"'Tween you and me Tom didn't make them are," said Daddy indignantly.
"He did, too."
"He didn't nuther, I see Mr. Sherman set in that are very spot yesterday."
At the commencement of the dispute, Little Wolf slipped away and sought refuge in her own room, and Daddy embraced the opportunity to lecture Sorrel Top soundly.
"'Tween you and me, you've disgusted the Honey," said he, "speakin so unrespectful of her friends."
"She don't know nothing about it," said Sorrel Top.
"'Tween you and me she stood right behind you and heered the hull," said Daddy triumphantly.
"I don't believe it," said Sorrel Top, getting very red in the face.
"I'll leave it to Miss Hawley," said Daddy.
Mrs. Hawley corrobarated the statement and Daddy continued his lecture.
"'Tain't never best to speak disrespectful of nobody," said he, "I never du, except of them are liquor sellers, and sich low critters. 'Tween you an' me, Mr. Tinknor is a very respectable young man; he told me he'd never drunk a drop of liquor in his hull life, except once when he had the colic, and it ain't likely he'll ever tech the infarnel stuff agin, for he ain't subject to colic, and if he should be tackled with it, I've told him how to doctor with hot plates and yarb tea. Iadvised him not to send fur no doctor, fur ten chances tu one, they would prescribe brandy. Them doctors, as a general thing, don't know no better than to prescribe things fur young men that gits 'em in the habit of drinkin. I wouldn't hev the Honey heard you run down Mr. Tom, as you did, fur no money. I hope this will be a warnin fur you to be oncommon keerful of that are tongue of yourn in futur."
"I guess Miss DeWolf can tend to her own affairs without anybody's help," said Sorrel Top, not in the least dismayed by Daddy's expostulations. "I wonder what has sot you agin Mr. Sherman, he is much more agreeable than Tom Tinknor, and I had rather clean up his dirt a thousand times, than so much as set a chair for that silly Tom."
"You never had no penetration, no how," said Daddy contemptously, "if you ever marry you'll get a drunken loafer to wait on, no doubt."
With this unkind prophesy on his lips,Daddy got himself out of the sound of Sorrel Top's retort as quickly as possible, and, as he could whenever it suited him, make an errand to Little Wolf's room, he very soon made it convenient to start with an armful of wood in that direction.
The fire was burning very briskly and Little Wolf sat before it in an attitude of deep thought, so Daddy very gently put down the wood, and was going out, when his young mistress called after him.
"Daddy."
"Yes, Honey."
"Daddy, I've been thinking of going for Fanny Green to-day."
"'Tween you and me, its a oncommon fair day, likely you wouldn't take no cold.
"Well, daddy, we will drive over for her, early this afternoon."
The honor of riding with Little Wolf and the errand on which, they were going combined to form an occasion of deep interest with Daddy who hastened down, eager to impart the information he had obtained. But, as only Sorrel Top was visible, and she in a fit of sulks, in the bringing on of which he had been instrumental, he delayed his important communication for a more appreciative audience, and contented himself with the performance of what he considered a solemn duty.
"'Tween you and me, its never best to pout," said he, "I've seen many a handsome face spiled by it."
Having administered this inflammatory admonition, Daddy betook himself to the wood pile, where he pecked away with uncommon assiduity until he was called to dinner.
Putting away his ax with alacrity, he hurried into the house, with an air of a man of business, and soon, under the influence of a very palatable dinner, his tongue loosed more agreeably.
"'Tween you and me, the Honey and me have been talkin the matter over," said he, "and we are going fur to fetch Fanny this afternoon."
"You ain't told us no news," said Sorrel Top, "has he Miss Hawley?"
"I didn't go fur to tell no news, a man never expects to tellwomenany news."
Daddy told this little fib good naturedly, although it was evident that he was the least bit annoyed.
Sorrel Top delighted in view of Daddy's discomfiture, and her temper restored, condescended to disclose the part she was to act in the matter.
"I've just been fixing a bed for her in the little room inside of Miss DeWolf's," said she "and as it ain't at all likely she'll be very tidy, brought up as she has been in that old shanty, I expect to have to teach her to keep it in order."
"'Tween you and me, it's time I was gittin ready fur to fetch her," said Daddy glad of an excuse to terminate the interview.
Little Wolf was on the veranda when Daddy drove up, for she was aware that her spirited little saddle horse, Fleet Foot, was as a general thing rather restive in harness.However, on the present occasion, his behavior was unexceptionable, and, in a few minutes, he was trotting off, the perfection of docility.
It was about a half an hour's drive to Mr. Wycoff's the farmer in whose family Fanny Green was living, and it was not to be expected that Daddy could by any means remain silent for that length of time, and as the subject most likely to interest his young mistress, he fixed upon Fleet Foot.
"'Tween you and me, Fleet Foot is oncommon stiddy to-day."
"Yes," said Little Wolf, absently.
"'Tween you and me hosses is like pussens, they ken be coaxed better than driv, fur generally speakin, coaxing brings 'em round when driving won't. It always makes my blood brile tu see a hoss abused, and the men that du it ain't much better than them are liquor sellers, and I have always said that they were the meanest of God's creation. 'Tween you and me, if common folks had had the care of Fleet Foot, you couldn't do nothin with him. He's naturally as full of fire as an egg is of meat, and he's a very knowin hoss tu; the minute you're in the saddle he pricks up his ears, and dances off like a young colt, fur he knows you like fur to have him prance and show off; but when I back him, he knows just as well he's got a stiddy old man aboard. When I fust took him out this afternoon, he went a caperin and carcerin round, and one spell I cum mighty nigh not gitting harness on him, but laws if anybody ken manage a hoss I ken," and Daddy unconsciously gave the reins a triumphant jerk, which instantly increased Fleet Foot's speed to what the careful old man considered an alarming degree, and by the time they had reached their destination, he was nearly out of breath, and had become quite nervous in his efforts to check the spirited animal.
"'Tween you and me, it wont du to keep Fleet Foot standing long in the cold," suggested Daddy anxiously as Little Wolf was alighting.
Sharing Daddy's anxiety Little Wolf statedto Mrs. Wycoff as concisely as possible, the object of her visit, and that individual brought the affair to a crisis in the following summary manner.
"Here's the girl, take her. Fanny put on your hood, and that old cloak that was your mother's. Mr. Wycoff has given you to this lady, and she's in a hurry. Now be quick."
Fanny's little white tear stained face fairly shone with delight, as she followed her new found friend to the sleigh. No alteration had been made in the mantle which was once her mother's, and Daddy wrapped her carefully in its ample folds and stowed her away at his feet, and she looked her last upon a house where she had suffered, as ill treated, motherless children sometimes do suffer.
From the day of her mother's death, she had excited Daddy's earnest sympathy. He had seen her carried home by Mr. Wycoff, whom he knew to be a hard man, and fond of strong drink. Mrs. Wycoff had the reputation of being no better than her husband, and Fanny's fate was generally commiseratedwhen it was known that she was to be nurse and chore girl in that family. She had been there but a few months, however, when the infant under her charge suddenly sickened and died, and as she was too small and delicate to be put to hard labor, the family had no futher use for her. These facts coming to Little Wolf's knowledge through Daddy, she had successfully employed him to gain Mr. Wycoff's consent to give the child up to her."
There was a world of gratitude in Fanny's sweet blue eyes, when occasionally she would modestly turn them up to Little Wolf as they rode in silence.
Daddy was to much absorbed in holding the reins to think of anything else, and as they neared the last long hill he drew a sigh of relief, "'tween you an' me, we're all right so fur," he said.
The words were scarcely out of his mouth before they were half way up the hill. Just on the brow they saw a two horse team, which as the road was narrow and the sidesprecipitous and rocky could only be passed with safety where it then was. Imagine then the dismay of the little party as they saw the heavy sled descending, and the driver madly urging on his horses.
Daddy shouted at the top of his voice, Little Wolf sprang upon her feet and waved her handkerchief with all her might, and little Fanny said dispairingly, "Oh its Mr. Wycoff, he is drunk, oh hewillrun over us."
Down, down, with fearful rapidity came the heavy team, the driver flourishing his whip and shouting dreadful oaths; while like lightning leaped Fleet Foot onward to his destiny. An instant more and Little Wolf had thrown Fanny from the sleigh and leaped after her down the side hill. There was a crash, a prolonged neigh; Fleet Foot's death yell, as, for an instant, he hung suspended from the sleigh, which had caught on a projecting rock, and all was silent save the distant clatter of horses' hoofs and the faint hallos of the drunken maniac.
At the moment of the collision, Daddy hadrisen to his feet and was in some unaccountable way thrown uninjured into the road. Although stunned and bewildered by the fall, his faculties gradually brightened and he was soon in a condition to survey the scene.
On a ledge of rocks overhanging the precipice was the forlorn wreck of the once fanciful little sleigh. In the depths below lay Fleet Foot, stretched motionless upon the rocky bottom. The deep ravine into which he had been plunged ran angling, and formed the point, where by her presense of mind Little Wolf had saved herself, and Fanny from almost certain death.
At this point the hill was less steep, and the snow had fallen to a great depth, forming a bed as soft as down, and cushioning the very rocks. Upon this capacious couch of unsullied whiteness, lay Little Wolf and Fanny.
Powerless himself to render any assistance, Daddy opened his mouth and there went forth a wail such as caused Little Wolf to start and shudder as she thought of what itmight portend. But her worst fears were in a moment dispelled, as she saw Daddy's anxious face bending imploringly over the bank.
"Honey" said he most dolefully.
"Yes, Daddy."
"'Tween you an' me, you ain't hurt nun, be you?"
"Not very much, Daddy, but when I try to rise I only sink deeper in the snow. Hark! I hear the sound of bells."
"Well, now, if there ain't Mr. Sherman coming down the hill," said Daddy delightfully. "'Tween you and me, Honey, that are Mr. Sherman will hev fur to help you git out. His legs is a heap longer than these old stumps of mine."
The Rescue.
The Rescue.
T
he circumstances which had brought Edward Sherman so opportunely to the scene of disaster were simply these:
On his way to call upon Little Wolf he had ridden round to Hank Glutter's saloon in order to leave a package of Eastern papers, as an act of courtesy in return for previous favors from Hank. As he pulled up before the door, Mr. Wycoff, urged by the proprietor, came reeling out with blood-shot eyes, and swearing that he would never leave the place without another drink. Hank had sometrouble in coaxing him on to his sled, and getting him started for home. Having rid himself of his troublesome customer, he turned his attention to Edward.
"Come in, Mr. Sherman," said he, "I am at liberty now. That man Wycoff has been quite an annoyance to me of late. He has no control over his appetite, and consequently ought never to drink; but I can't refuse him, and it wouldn't mend the matter if I did, for he can easily get it elsewhere, and, perhaps, where no discrimination would be used, and he would become too much intoxicated to get home at all; but drunken loafers are not allowed to hang around here."
"I have brought some papers which I thought you might like to look at," said Edward taking no notice of what the other had said.
"Thank you, Mr. Sherman, you had better come in a while. I have just received some sherry said to be very fine. I would like your judgment upon the quality of the article."
"Another time, Mr. Glutter; I am in something of a hurry to-day."
"Well, just wait a minute," said Hank, and he darted in and brought out a bottle and slipped it in the corner of the sleigh under the buffalo. "There," said he, "try it at your leisure, Mr. Sherman."
"Thank you, Mr. Glutter,—good day," and Edward hastened to the home of Little Wolf.
When informed by Sorrel Top that Little Wolf had gone to Mr. Wycoff's for Fanny, his pride was at the moment piqued; for he well knew that she had reason to suppose that he would visit her that afternoon. Since the memorable New Year's eve, when leaning upon Dr. Goodrich's arm, she had so resolutely turned away from him, he felt that all was not right between them; and he had looked forward with longing impatience for the hour, when, once more alone with her, he could ask an explanation. Although he was confident that she was then absent purposely to avoid him, alarm for her safety overcame every other feeling, and with a foreboding heart, he turned in the direction she had taken.
From the top of the hill he saw enough to hasten him down to Daddy, and from thence through snow and rocks to Little Wolf.
"Are you hurt, darling?" he said, eagerly grasping her hand.
Little Wolf uttered an exclamation of pain and fainted. Edward turned pale. "Daddy," he shouted, throw down that bottle in the corner of the sleigh."
"What is it you want fur to give her," said Daddy, doubtfully.
"It's wine; throw it down here quickly."
"She won't tech the infarnel stuff."
"She has fainted, you simpleton; give me the wine."
"'Tween you and me, there ain't no bottle here," said Daddy, doggedly. "Sprinkle a little snow in her face, and she'll come too."
"Daddy," thundered Edward, completely exasperated, "throw down that wine, or I'll know the reason why."
"The reason why, is," said Daddy, deliberately, "there ain't no bottle in this ere sleigh—'tween you and me, this ere hoss of yourn is gettin mighty oneasy, I'm obleeged fur tu stand at his head every minute."
"Hitch him somewhere, Daddy, and throw the buffalo over him—the bottle is under the buffalo, you'll find it and bring it."
"No I won't bring it nuther," muttered Daddy to himself."
"I guess there's something the matter with Miss DeWolf's arm, she couldn't use it when she tried to get up," said a voice close behind Edward.
He turned and saw that the suggestion had come from Fanny Green, who lay a short distance off, cosily wrapped in the form of a little black bundle.
"Are you hurt, Fanny?" he said.
"O no, I'm not hurt a bit," she answered brightly. "I prayed that I might be saved, and I was saved."
"I wish you would pray we might get safely up this steep place into the road," said Edward.
"Miss DeWolf is very little, replied Fanny hopefully, "I guess you can carry her up. If my cloak was off, I think I could walk by myself."
Edward undid her cloak and stood her upon her feet. He then raised Little Wolf in his arms, and staggered a few feet in the snow, and laid her down again, almost discouraged. But as he could devise no other plan to rescue her from her unpleasant situation, he redoubled his efforts. He occasionally stumbled against rocks, and fell into drifts, but always so as to shield his burden from harm.
Daddy was stubborn in witholding the bottle, and Little Wolf at length awoke to consciousness without it. Awoke to feel herself pressed close to Edward's throbbing breast, to listen to endearing words, that warmed into new life and vigor the hope in which she had indulged. The hope, that possibly, through her influence, he might be persuadedto give up the only habit which marred his otherwise unblemished, character.
"Darling, darling, you are safe now with me," he whispered, as she unclosed her eyes; "were you hurt by the fall?"
"Only my arm, Edward; it is very painful. I'm afraid it is broken—oh, put me down, the pain makes me faint."
"I love so to hold you to my heart," he said as he let her slip softly on the snow, and examined the wounded member.
"Itisreally broken, just above the wrist," he said in surprise, how careless I have been!"
Edward was not skilful in surgery, but he did the best he could with pocket handkerchief bandages.
Little Wolf nerved herself to bear the pain which every movement aggravated, and Edward again lifted her up.
"Now, darling, we shall soon get to the top."
"Where is Fanny?" said Little Wolf, suddenly remembering her protege.
"O, she is somewhere, working her way along in my track," said Edward.
Both looked back, and not far behind saw Fanny kneeling with closed eyes beside a snow capped rock. Her tiny hand, rough and red with cold and toil, clasped devoutly upon her breast, and her lips moved as if in prayer. The little black quilted hood she wore had fallen back, revealing soft golden hair, radiant in the slant rays of the declining sun, and upon her cheek a tear glistened like a dew-drop on a flower.
"The tears came to Little Wolf's eyes. "Poor little thing! she feels forsaken," she whispered, "let us wait and encourage her."
While they were waiting a neighboring farmer happened along; a strong, stalwart man, who joined right heartily in helping them out of their difficulty.
The first thing that Edward did when he reached the sleigh was to search for the bottle of sherry. "Strange," said he to Little Wolf, "Mr. Glutter certainly put a bottle of sherry here as I came along, and now it isnowhere to be found. I wish I had it for your sake."
Daddy glanced furtively at Little Wolf, who, suspecting the truth, murmured something about feeling better.
"He ain't a goin fur to git none of that infarnel stuff down the honey," said Daddy to himself, as the sleigh with Edward, Little Wolf, and Fanny disappeared down the other side of the hill.
A consultation was next held between Daddy and the farmer as to the probable condition of Fleet Foot, which was speedily ascertained by the latter who chanced to have a rope with him suitable for letting himself down to where he could test the case. Scaleing the rocks with his temporary ladder, he returned the verdict "died of a broken neck."
"I was pretty nigh sartin he was stun dead," said Daddy, gravely. "I'm much, obleeged to ye, neighbor; I guess I'll go hum, bein I can't du nothin fur the poor critter.—I tell ye, neighbor, these are things takes right hold on me. Fleet Foot was a buster,and I sot heaps by him, and so did the honey. 'Tween you and me, that cussed, infarnel liquor drinkin is at the bottom of a awful heap of trouble. If I could make the laws, the hull infarnel stuff would be handled like pison and pistols, ruther keerful."
"Wycoff is pretty well off, I guess he can be made to pay pretty heavy damages," said the farmer.
"'Tween you an' me, that ere is poor consolation. Supposen the honey's neck had been broken, and the chances was agin her, what money du ye think could pay for her life? I tell ye what, the thing is all wrong, liquor makin and liquor sellin does mischief that no money can't pay fur."
An Indian Messenger—Frozen to Death.
An Indian Messenger—Frozen to Death.
T
he evening hour drew on. Little Wolf lay upon her bed feverish with pain. Her arm was in bandages, and Dr. Goodrich stood by soothing and encouraging her. Louise Sherman having arrived, kindly relieved Mrs. Hawley, who embraced the opportunity to slip out and regale herself with a cup of tea.
As she approached the kitchen, the sound of Daddy's voice reached her ear, and thefew words that she caught hastened her footsteps thither.
"It was as much as ever I could du fur to hold Fleet Foot," he was saying as she opened the door.
"Go on, Daddy," said Mrs. Hawley as he paused at her entrance, "I want to hear all about it."
"Wall, as I was a tellin Sorrel Top," he continued, "I was pretty nigh done out a holdin Fleet Foot, when we got tu that are long hill, fur I was a leetle afeared he might git the better on me, but the Honey want, she ain't never afeared of nothin nor never was, but she was oncommon quiet, she hadn't spoke for a long time—when, all at once, jest as we was agoin up the hill, what should we see but Wycoff's big team a tearin down like Jehu. He was a swearin and a cussin and there want no dodging of him. I riz right up and hollered, and the Honey riz up and hollered and shook her handkerchief, but it want no use. Down, down it cum like lightning, sled and all. Fleet Foot gotskeered with the hollerin and he jestwent it. Wall, the Honey ketched up Fanny in a jiff, and tossed her out, and was out herself afore I knowed it, and I was jest a goin fur to git out when the teams cum together kersmash, and I was pitched head fust clean over Wycoff's sled inter the road, and would no doubt hev been killed but my time hadn't come. 'Tween you and me, it isforeordinatedthat we won't die till our time comes. Fur you may pitch a man about, and break him all tu bits and he lives and gits well. But when his time comes, the prick of a pin will kill him and nothin on airth ken save him. Wall, the fust thing I did when I found myself alive, was to look for the Honey, and afore I hed a chance fur to help her, that are Sherman happened along, and left me in charge of his hoss, while he went fur to fetch her. The fust thing I hearn was a great hollerin fur a bottle of wine that he had in his sleigh. Wall, I took the infarnel stuff and slung it as fur as I could see and told him there want nun there."
"Miss DeWolf would give you fits if she knew what you'd done," said Sorrel Top, "the wine want yourn."
"Wall, it was the devil's, and I slung it tu him," retorted Daddy triumphantly, "that are Sherman was riled, and I let him sweat, fur I want a goin fur to hev him pour pisen down the Honey. No doubt, if he had gin it tu her, her blood would hev got heated and fever hev sot in. Some folks don't seem to know nothin about them things," said the speaker darting a contemptous glance at Sorrel Top.
"Well, Daddy, what happened next?" said Mrs. Hawley, soothingly.
"I ain't a goin fur to tell nothin more tonight," said Daddy decidedly. "If folks can't listen without interruptin me, they may wait till they ken," and he shot another meaning glance at the offending Sorrel Top.
"I guess," said Sorrel Top with some asperity "you're not the only one that can tell me about it, is he Fanny?" she said turningto Fanny Green, whom she discovered to have fallen fast asleep in her chair.
"'Tween you an me," said Daddy rather dryly, "I guess you won't hear no more of that are story to-night."
Sorrel Top's temper was slightly ruffled and she began to shake Fanny rather roughly. "Wake up, Fanny," said she "wake up."
"Oh! Mrs. Wycoff, don't whip me," mourned Fanny piteously, as she opened her eyes, "I didn't mean to go to sleep, but I was so tired."
"Don't you know no better than to treat a little motherless thing in that are way?" said Daddy coming indignantly forward. "Come here, Fanny," and he took the child tenderly in his arms; "if anybody speaks a cross word to you in this are house, they'll git reported."
By degrees Fanny awoke, and was borne off to bed by Mrs. Hawley.
Scarcely had they gone when a new object of interest attracted Daddy's attention.There was a slight rustling at the outside door, and in stalked a sturdy Indian in blanket and leggins and soft moccasins, causing his firm tread to fall noiselessly, and giving Daddy a superstitious start, as if he had seen an apparition. The red man stated in broken English that he had brought a letter a long way from the "lodge of the pale face, to the Wolf squaw."
Daddy hastened to put the letter in Little Wolf's hand. It proved to be a rather lengthy communication from Antoinette La Claire, and as all were interested, at Little Wolf's request, Louise proceeded to read it aloud.
"Fairy Knoll, Jan. 20th, 18—.My Dear Miss DeWolf:A faithful Indian, known for a long time to cousin John, has called here on his route to Chimney Rock and I embrace the opportunity to write to you, as it will probably be the last I shall have before spring opens.Cousin John has fitted up a cosy little room for me in the loft. It is hung around with skins and blankets, and is made comfortably warm by the fire below. There is one little window from which I obtain a fine view of the "City of Trees," which you used so much to admire. They are now shorn of their foliage, and snow and ice cover the branches, and, forsaken by their summer inhabitants, they stand and sadly moan day and night.But these mournful sounds pass unheeded, by the happy couple in this peaceful cottage. Not a cloud has yet darkened their "honeymoon." All their hours are pleasant hours, and all their dreams are pleasant dreams. On these wintry mornings we rise rather late; after the sun has peeped in at the window a long time.Cousin John goes out in the warmest part of the day to split rails, but, even then, he finds it convenient to take his brandy bottle with him. He is a firm believer in the efficacy of brandy to keep out the cold. But when, with the experience I have had, I see him in perfect strength and health, go out day after day with that little flask in his side pocket, I pray that it may never become a snare to him.Yesterday morning, as he was about starting, I ventured to remonstrate with him."Cousin John" I said, "I would not take the brandy to-day, I do not think you will miss it." He laughed good naturedly, and turning to Cousin Maria, he said, 'Maria dear, Antoinette is concerned about my morals. Shall I tell her of a certain lady who drained Mr. Sherman's wine bottle on her way to Fairy Knoll?"Cousin Maria blushed and said, "I am sorry John that I ever touched it. Let us now mutually pledge ourselves never again to drink anything that will intoxicate." But Cousin John only laughed, and kissed his young wife tenderly and went away to the wood, taking the brandy bottle with him.When he came home at night, and the supper was over, and he had, as usual, seated himself by Maria and taken her hand in his, (at which signal I invariably become suddenly sleepy and am obliged to retire,) I stole away from the scene, and sitting down by my little window, looked out into the faint moonlight, and thought much and long upon the joys and sorrows of earth, but most upon its sorrows, for the "whole creation groaneth," and my own heart is always sorrowful.I do not know why, but it may have been, and probably was, because all the anguishand sorrow that has ever come under my personal observation, has been occasioned by that drink that "biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder," that the scene of the morning mingled with the thought of my cousins below eagerly quaffing their cup of bliss; the sweetest that earth offers to youthful lips. 'Can bitter drops ever mingle there?' thought I. 'Can the honey become wormword and gall, and every joy be forgotten? Can the little speck that I thought I saw this morning on the horizon become a great cloud and overshadow us all?' In imagination I saw lovely cousin Maria pale and faded, and careworn, and cousin John's noble and manly countenance bloated and brutish, as I have seen men become by the use of stimulating drinks, and involuntarily I threw up my hands and cried, 'Is there none to help?'It may have been a morbid condition of the mind that wrought these sad fancies, and I am sure those who have never realized the danger of the cup would treat them lightly, but you dear friend, know that from just such beginnings the most harrowing sorrows have sprung.I know cousin John would smile if heknew what a serious matter I have made of a thing that he considers so trifling, and he is so good and kind to me, and his whole soul so free from vice, that I almost regret having put these thoughts on paper. But out of the fulness of my anxious heart I have written as perhaps I ought not.God grant that all my fears may prove groundless, and that the serpent's sting may never, never more through another's infatuation reach our hearts, or yours.I was at length aroused from my reverie by our Indian visitor. I caught a glimpse of him just as he emerged from the woods, and before I could go down to announce his coming, he was within, and by his noiseless footfall had taken my cousins greatly by surprise. Maria was smoothing her rumpled hair and looking rather annoyed at the unceremonious intrusion, while cousin John and his visitor were deep in the mysteries of "jargon," which being interpreted by my humble self was truly startling and shocking.He stated that two "pale faces," were lying a short distance off, frozen to death. His supposition was that they had indulged too freely in "fire water."Cousin John immediately accompanied himto the spot, and found indeed two men cold and stiff in death, and the empty bottle found upon their persons gave evidence of the cause. The Indian recognized one, having seen him with my dead brother, and said he was "no good pale face," and his name was Prime Hawley. They found in the pocket of the other an old letter addressed to "Hiram Green, Chimney Rock." You may possibly know something about the latter.
"Fairy Knoll, Jan. 20th, 18—.
My Dear Miss DeWolf:
A faithful Indian, known for a long time to cousin John, has called here on his route to Chimney Rock and I embrace the opportunity to write to you, as it will probably be the last I shall have before spring opens.
Cousin John has fitted up a cosy little room for me in the loft. It is hung around with skins and blankets, and is made comfortably warm by the fire below. There is one little window from which I obtain a fine view of the "City of Trees," which you used so much to admire. They are now shorn of their foliage, and snow and ice cover the branches, and, forsaken by their summer inhabitants, they stand and sadly moan day and night.
But these mournful sounds pass unheeded, by the happy couple in this peaceful cottage. Not a cloud has yet darkened their "honeymoon." All their hours are pleasant hours, and all their dreams are pleasant dreams. On these wintry mornings we rise rather late; after the sun has peeped in at the window a long time.
Cousin John goes out in the warmest part of the day to split rails, but, even then, he finds it convenient to take his brandy bottle with him. He is a firm believer in the efficacy of brandy to keep out the cold. But when, with the experience I have had, I see him in perfect strength and health, go out day after day with that little flask in his side pocket, I pray that it may never become a snare to him.
Yesterday morning, as he was about starting, I ventured to remonstrate with him."Cousin John" I said, "I would not take the brandy to-day, I do not think you will miss it." He laughed good naturedly, and turning to Cousin Maria, he said, 'Maria dear, Antoinette is concerned about my morals. Shall I tell her of a certain lady who drained Mr. Sherman's wine bottle on her way to Fairy Knoll?"
Cousin Maria blushed and said, "I am sorry John that I ever touched it. Let us now mutually pledge ourselves never again to drink anything that will intoxicate." But Cousin John only laughed, and kissed his young wife tenderly and went away to the wood, taking the brandy bottle with him.
When he came home at night, and the supper was over, and he had, as usual, seated himself by Maria and taken her hand in his, (at which signal I invariably become suddenly sleepy and am obliged to retire,) I stole away from the scene, and sitting down by my little window, looked out into the faint moonlight, and thought much and long upon the joys and sorrows of earth, but most upon its sorrows, for the "whole creation groaneth," and my own heart is always sorrowful.
I do not know why, but it may have been, and probably was, because all the anguishand sorrow that has ever come under my personal observation, has been occasioned by that drink that "biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder," that the scene of the morning mingled with the thought of my cousins below eagerly quaffing their cup of bliss; the sweetest that earth offers to youthful lips. 'Can bitter drops ever mingle there?' thought I. 'Can the honey become wormword and gall, and every joy be forgotten? Can the little speck that I thought I saw this morning on the horizon become a great cloud and overshadow us all?' In imagination I saw lovely cousin Maria pale and faded, and careworn, and cousin John's noble and manly countenance bloated and brutish, as I have seen men become by the use of stimulating drinks, and involuntarily I threw up my hands and cried, 'Is there none to help?'
It may have been a morbid condition of the mind that wrought these sad fancies, and I am sure those who have never realized the danger of the cup would treat them lightly, but you dear friend, know that from just such beginnings the most harrowing sorrows have sprung.
I know cousin John would smile if heknew what a serious matter I have made of a thing that he considers so trifling, and he is so good and kind to me, and his whole soul so free from vice, that I almost regret having put these thoughts on paper. But out of the fulness of my anxious heart I have written as perhaps I ought not.
God grant that all my fears may prove groundless, and that the serpent's sting may never, never more through another's infatuation reach our hearts, or yours.
I was at length aroused from my reverie by our Indian visitor. I caught a glimpse of him just as he emerged from the woods, and before I could go down to announce his coming, he was within, and by his noiseless footfall had taken my cousins greatly by surprise. Maria was smoothing her rumpled hair and looking rather annoyed at the unceremonious intrusion, while cousin John and his visitor were deep in the mysteries of "jargon," which being interpreted by my humble self was truly startling and shocking.
He stated that two "pale faces," were lying a short distance off, frozen to death. His supposition was that they had indulged too freely in "fire water."
Cousin John immediately accompanied himto the spot, and found indeed two men cold and stiff in death, and the empty bottle found upon their persons gave evidence of the cause. The Indian recognized one, having seen him with my dead brother, and said he was "no good pale face," and his name was Prime Hawley. They found in the pocket of the other an old letter addressed to "Hiram Green, Chimney Rock." You may possibly know something about the latter.
"Fanny Green's father, and Mrs. Hawley's husband," ejaculated Little Wolf. "Hark, Louise," she added in a whisper, "they have heard it all."
Sounds of distress were heard in the adjoining room where Mrs. Hawley was engaged in putting her little charge to rest. Both she and Fanny had heard every word of the letter and the news of the unhappy death of the husband of the one, and the father of the other, burst suddenly upon them, and deep and tearless groans of Mrs. Hawley and Fanny's heart breaking sobs mingled together.
"Put the letter away Louise,do," said Little Wolf, turning her face away with a heart truly sick.