The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1885-03-25
DARK DAYS
H u CHI GO NW Y,
Author OF " Called Back"

AZ the Skies. My nearC SAX WlCQll
Inc as l saw that the snow<nad ceaset
falling, and the wintry sun was shining
l threw up the sash; the cold air Gu
me like a knife. gathered up a hand
full Of snow from the window-sill. l
crumbled in my fingers like tooth-pow
der. 1guessed at once that a hart
black frost had succeeded the snow.
ran downstairs ard glanced at m,
thermometer outside my sitting-roon
window. 1t registered twelve degree:
of frost. My spirits rose; 1 felt tina
Philippe would be saved. The vino
was due east: so long as it staid there
the frost would la t, and that white
tomb On the roadside hide the secret
Of the dreadful night.
found, moreover, that Philippa's
condition was all that could, under the
circumstances, be hoped for. Since
she had awakened from that long SLEEP
into which the opiate had plunged her
there had been no recurrence OF the
decisions; no symptoms which gave me
any alarm. She was, of course, weak
in body, but quite quiet and collected.
She spoke but little, and the few words
which she did speak had no bearing on
forbidden or disturbing subjects.
Day after day went by, and still the
brave black frost held the world in its
iron grip, and kept the secret of the
night. Morning after morning
woke to find the wind still blowing
from the east. the skies clear and show.
ing every evidence of a long spell Of
hard weather. \ presentiment that
we should BIZ saved was now firmly es'
tablished in my mind. The heavens
themselves seemed to be shielding US
and working for us.
I have not given the year in which
these things occurred; but many who
can remember that mighty fall of snow,
and the time which the frost kept it on
the earth, will be able to fix the date.
Since that year there has been no
weather like it.
Day by day Philippa grew better and
stronger. 1 spare you. as I promised
to, all description which is not abso-
lutely necessary of my treatment OF
my patient, and all technical summary
of the case; but before many days had
gone by I knew that, as I hoped, I had
to deal with one Of those rare inst IN
ces in which the balance of the mind is
restored byforced sleep, and the COM
plete restoration Of health is but a
matter of time and care
AS soon as it became a certainty
that all danger to life or reason was at
end, l began to consider what course to
adopt. The moment she was well
enough to risk the journey, or even, if
a thaw set in, before then, Philippa
must fly from the scene of the tragedy
in which she had played so terrible. yet
morally irresponsible, apart. We must
put lands and seas between ourselves
and the fatal spot. But how to per-
suade her that such flight was abso-
lutely necessary? Brother and sister as
wenow termed ourselves, would she
ever consent to accompany me abroad?
Had 1 the right to put the woman ]
loved in such al e%quivocal position?
No! a thousand times no! And yet /
knew there was no safety for her in
England; and with whom could she
leave England save with me?
I dared not urge upon her my true
reason for flight. 1t was my greatest
hope that the events of that night had
left her mind when the madness left
her, never to be recalled. And now
time was PRESSING ten days had passed
by. The glorious frost still kept our
counsel, but it could not last forever.
The time must come when the white
heaps of snow would melt and vanish
away, and then Sir Mervyn Ferrand's
cold dead face would appear, andten the
tale of his death to the first passer-by.
I had scarcely quilted the house
since that night. Yet one day a kind
of morbid fascination had led me to
walk along the road toward Roding,
and to halt at what I judged to be the
spot where 1 laid the dead man by the
side of the road. I fancied 1 could
single out the very drift under which
that awful thing lay, and a dreary
temptation to probe the white heap
with my stick. and make sure, assailed
me. l resisted it, and turned away
from the spot.
There was a certain amount Of
traffic on the road. BY now the snow
had been beaten down by cart-wheels
and peoples feet, SO that it was quite
possible to walk from one place to an
other. AS I reached the house from
which Philippa fed to seek refuge with
me, I encountered Mrs. Wilson. was
going to pass without any sign of rec
ignition, but she stopped mt.
II thought you were going to take
your sister away" she said.
LADY Ferrand was unfortunately
taken very i'll when she left you. She
IS now hardly We'll enough to be re-
moved"
"Has she heard frol Sir Mervyn?"
asked Mrs Wilson. abruptly.
Not to my knowledge" I replied.
1T is strange. You know, I suppose,
that he was expected at my house that
night?"
Certainly 1 do. 1t was for that
reason my sister left you."
Mrs. Wilson looked at me thought
fully. "She will not meet him again."
Never" 1 said, thinking as I spoke
that my words bore a meaning only
known to myself. Does she hate him?"
she asked, suddenly.
She has been cruelty wronged," I
said, evasively.
She laid her hand on my arm. 'Lis-
ten," she said. If I thought she hated
him, I would see her before she leaves,
and tell her something. If 1 thought
he hated her, would tell him. I will
wait and see"
She turned away and walked on,
leaving me to make the best Of her
enigmatical words. She was evident
ly a strange woman, and I felt more
sure than ever was in some way mixed
up with Sir Mervyn Ferrand's early
life. J had a great mind to follow her
and demand an explanation. but eau
ton told me that the less l said to her
the better. 1t was from this woman's
knowledge Of the relationship of Philip
pa and the dead man that, when the
secret of the night was laid bare, the
greatest danger must arise.
After walking a few PAGES, Mrs.
Wilson turned and came back to me.
"Give me an address," she said;" I may
want to write toyou."
I hesitated; then l told her that any
letters sent to my bankers in London
would reach me sooner or later. 1t
was too soon to excite suspicion by con-
cealment of ones movements.
1t was after I had gazed az that
n,h;to tomb hp tba roadside that nv