The weekly herald. [volume] (Cleveland, Tenn.) 1876-1888, 1878-01-31

was SO eagefly sought fa aIIlcT We
must save that man.
Prepared to take the leap which
would place him in position whence
a rope might be flung about the brave
Englishman, he stood poised upon the
rock; but at this instant, horrible to
relate, the foothOld to which Sir Her
bert trusted gave way. His weight had
forced the rock from its position-it
fell, and he fell with it.. The guides
uttered a yell, and stood staring down
the abyss. Far below they saw dark
figure lying across the jagged rocks,
and as it lay, stray sunbeam flashed
out on something white. 1t was the
snow flower.
'We must take the dead body back to
the hotel, and tell the, horrible story
said the old man. And, who will be
a guide to men who will not be guided.
Then no more was said. Scrambling,
sliding, lowering themselves by means
of the rope, father and sons at last
gained the spot in which Sir Herbert
had fallen in an instant.
Helpless he lay across the rocks.
White with agony, but not hopeless.
His eyes were wide open, and his lips,
drawn back in pain, showed, still held
between the broad, white teeth, by its
long stem, the snow blossom which he
had plucked at such fearful cost. The
eyes turned towards Jean. He knew
what the helping hands would have
done if they could, and took the flower.
Il have only little while to speak,
gasped the writhing man. Jean, take
this to Lady Bertha. Tell her that |
picked it with my own hand, and-and
that have gone on. Pierre, you two
must take me elsewhere-nOJ back to
the hotel. Tell none of them of my
fate-swear-tell none of them that
am wounded. | have friend at Bor
gen, he will see that you are well-paid;
take me there
DuIJ hOHSlCulJ "udt oidll say
how explain p sobbed Jean.
No explanation, sobbed the woun-
ded man. Keep it from her. Give
her the flowers, and-and-my love-
And he tainted.
1t was not until next morning that
Jean, the guide, stood before Lady Ber-
tha with the snow blossom in his hand.
lie found this task very hard.
'Mademoiselle, he said, the gentle
man. Sir Herbert, has sent you this
flower with his love. He babe me de-
clare to you that he picked it himself.
He did. | saw him. Mademoiselle.
why did he not bring it to me him
self?' thought Lady Bertha, taking the
rare blossoms in her hand.
Aloud she said, MY thanks to Sir
Herbert. But he has also returnedY'
NO, MademOiselle.'
'He is coming?'
Il think not, Mademoiselle. He bade
me say he had gone on
Gone on! you mistOok.'
Jeans task grew harder yet.
No, Mademoisele. He said he was
going on with my father and Pierre.
think he is not coming back
Then he fairly turned and ran away.
The Lady Bertha became red as a
rose, then pale as the snow flower that
she held in her hand.
'Ah, she understood now!' she said
to herself. This was punishment for
her. She had permitted him to risk his
life to win her love, and now he told
her plainly that her love was not worth
the risk, though he was too brave to
shrink from danger. 1t was repetition
of the old story of the lady who cast her
gloves into the lions den and babe her
lover to bring it to her; he had brought
it, but only to fling it at her. So Herbert
had, as she believed, punished her. In
bitter wrath, Lady Bertha flung the
snow blossoms upon the earth, and
trampled on it,
Meanwhile, father and son, old Jean
and young Pierre, bore their sad and
nearly lifeless burden toward Bergen.
A year had passed. Lord Charles
and his bride had been travelling all
this while; his sister with them. No
news had reached them of Sir Herbert;
no letters, no message. He was not in
England, or they should have heard.
And Ada had whispered to her husband
that she fancied Bertha was somehow at
the bottom of his sudden departure, so
that the other young man found the
matter easily explainable.
Bertha has refused him, silly girl
he said. 'She should have been proud
of such lover; that is the sort Of girl
who throws herself away at last upon
rascal. have no hope for her.
And Bertha! All, poor Lady Bertha
was unutterably wretched. She had
loyed Sir Herbert, and she had lost him
by her own sillyac She was humbled
by her own vanity. And now she
knew how dear this man had been to
her, and how empty her life would be
without him.
They were in England again, and
friends had flocked about them.
Welcome home, cried one gentle
man, shaking hands vigously. wei
come home, | am glad to see you with
whole bones, after so much mountain
climbing. There have been accidents
without number. One or two have
been killed, and, of course, you know
about poor Sir Herbert. lie was with
your party, wasn't hep
About Sir Herbert--'