The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1869-02-11

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caress. And yet sho was not dead-a
faint breath just sighed across his cheek.
Was it thus he had thought to greet his
promised wife? He could not think-he
knew nothing but that he had found Alice
and his whole being rose to the resolve
that he would save her-that neither ice
nor snow nor cold should take her from
him. She was his, and he claimed her
despite everything.
But he could not linger there; he must
be moving on, though ever so slowly. He
bore his burden to his own cutter, taking
with him the furs that could save her at
ter that fearful sleep had begun. His
horses walked on again-they needed no
guiding-they could find their way bet
ter than man could direct.
Anything but intense love would have
dispaired III that tempest of snow, with
that pitiless wind freezing across the earth
raising no glow on that blue white face
against his own.
He roughly chafed with snow her hands
and face; but he soon saw that severer
measures must be tried; that the lethergy
was too deep. She dimly felt the fierce
friction, for she moaned and seemed to
shrink from ia wordless request to be
left alone.
Russell had forgotten the cold for him
self, the snow swept by him unheaded:
Again he lifted her in his arms and step
ped out into the snow, letting her stand
beside him, and trying to make her fight
her way on, knowing that if she could
once be aroused she was saved.
At first she fell down helplessly-sa
inanimately with no wish to stir. But in
a few moments his ceaseless efforts had
some effect, and he could compel her to
use her muscles slightly, though her head
dropped in an unknowing stupor.
Russell felt that he had never suffered
before. He thought the pain and sorrows
of all his life were crowded into that one
night. By slow degrees, almost hopeless
ly slow, consciousness and horrible suffer
ing returned.
His face was pale and sick, as knew the
signal for life and hope, and not now
would he despair.
At length she looked at him with rec
ognizing eyes, and when everything else
had failed, love reached the fountain of
crimson, and sent wave of red to her
face.
Weak, suffering, she reclined upon his
arm. unable to move or speak, Could
he keep the life he had saved, through a
much longer journey?
When he left the city, there were few
houses scattered by the roadside for two
or three miles. The dim glimmer of their
lights he had seen; but since then he had
noticed nothing-it was vast waste
through which he was riding, with no
lamp of hope held out to him. And the
delicate girl, but half resusitated, he
thought-oh, how many miles before safe
ty?
An half hour passed, and through Rus
sells brave soul had already darted the
first doubt. Human endurance could not
last forever, and it was almost more than
he could do to preserve the feeble life he
had recalled. In another half hour ice
and cold might conquer him. He would
die with her; he could not live when that
dear face was beneath the sod
A quarter of mile further on, and he
saw through the storm dark object by
the roadside. 1t was building of some
ed his horses heads that way, and plunged
through the snow to the door. There
was no door. 1t was dismanteled log
hut, with its door gone, and its one little
window broken out But it was better
than the fury without, and in another five
minutes, Alice was sheltered from the
wind. With painful and patient fumb-
ling he succeeded in fastening the buffalo
skin in frount of the door way, thus forms
ing partial barrier Then he drew from
his pocket his cigar case and his matches,
and lighting one of the latter, looked
eagerly around the room, in the Pickering
light. That glance revealed to him that
there was an immense fire place at one
side of the hut, and divine light of JOY
streamed into his soul at the sight.
AS the horses had dragged the cutter
to the house, the runner had grated over
the top rail of fence, and the unseen
post had nearly upset the cutter.
The white-fngered fair-faced English
man, worked with power that was more
like fury, and when at last ruddy glow
flew up the chimney, tears of Joy actually
started from his eyes,
Exhausted, happy, he knelt at the feet
of Alice, and hid his face in her hands
With that rev1ving warmth, came little
strength to her weary soul. She leaned
forward, smile on her lips, and in her
ayes, and murmured-
at was heaven itself who sent you here
Robert"
Two hours later gray dawn was slug
Cling through the clouds; broad strip Of
blue encircled the west; the wind moand
in lower tones The old hut was golden
with the wood fret threw its radiance
over the two horses that had been led in,
and stood wild and grateful in the corner,
their nvnc STARING of the fire