St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1889-12-25

OF the Jura mountains, anu LII Was
Christmas eve.
Christmas eve! ground an execra-
ton between my teeth and fiercely
relned in my jaded steed. l had so
stubbornly fought against the odds to
spend it in a pretty, comfortable chalet
with my betrothed, who had been sent
to Geneva to recover from that horrible
disease of the heart-love for an ineli-
gible-and had not yet succeeded, as
my journey tonight was proving.
Several miles back one of the stage
horses, too fercely urged at my COM
mand, had fallen dead in the traces just
as we pull led away from a slumbrous
little village nesting among the eastern
foot hills, its cottages wreathed IN
win eS.
After some abuse of the sullen driver,
l paid him for the deceased animal, pur-
chased the surviving one, and, having
secured full directions from him to
village beyond the mountains where L
could get conveyance perhaps. left
him to return to the sleepy village inn,
while / pursued my mountainous way
alone. for was the only passenger mao
enough to be abroad on this wild road
Christmas eve, apparently.
To darkness in all shades l was used,
having lived the most OF my eight and
twenty wears IN London. But darkness
such as this-swift, unnatural muttering
of wind and snow, it fell about me like
a murky veil, and giving the horse his
head again, let him pick his way. Ii
he was the regular stage beast reck-
oned hopefully he would know the
straight road and bear me to safety,
Anyway, | must crust to him and luck,
so wandered on, on. Then, with sud
den roar, the storm came rushing down
the mountains, rain, hail, thunder, like
huge avalanche tearing its destructive
way to some unprObed abyss.
| caught my breath in dismay. Like
a victim of the fearful avalanche, l
would be buried in one of those huge
chaSms, doubtless, and she would never
know how desperately hard | had tried
to reach or-tO press the quick. warm.
ruby lips, her sweet. glad, tender eyes,
with lips that soon must be pulSeleSS
forever. perhaps. God! God!
Again L sharply refined my beast. for
out Of the cloudracked heavens had
shot fiery-tongued flame. 1t revealed
several white-capped peaks in the dis
lance, like glittering daggerS cleavIng
upward, as if the mountain had ven
delta against the dome above it, and
threatened to pay it eternally.
That flash of lightning and the shock
of it had doubtless saved my life. The
horse-pOor dumb beast-stood CULVER
ing on the brink of yawning abyss;
IN another second | would doubtless
have urged him over its edge and gone
to my death at its base.
Dat ctr w
threw its space up against my startled
eyes showed narrow bride path turn
ing around its edge along a heap of
ragged bOulders, upon which dropped
many spectral expresses hooded in
lichen and moss.
In another instant, hugging the b0ul
ders close. had left them behind, their
sObbing heads bowling under the quick.
mad storm like so many human things
in pain. A second flash of the lurid
glare from above, and realized that |
had somehow. and no wonder, missed
theregular pass. for [ was in long,
deep valley, regular basin between
the peaks, and before growth of wall
ing, swaying pines against the base OF
the mountains western side.
Suddenly, while | was straining my
eyes through the inky, stormy blackness
ahead, a pale, wee light, regular will
o'-wisp of flash came across my vision
an instant, then was gone.
Ny heart thrObbed with wild CLEAN
of renewed hope. Could that light have
been flung from the window of dwell
ing to which this narrow bride path
led? | dashed forward, the storm, as if
fearful | might escape, hurting itself
upon me with greater fury at each step
| went.
Hope, ay. and more than hope
knowledge; for when L had pierced the
tangle of pines and vines, the lightning
struck forth again-a token from Christ
on HIS b.rthnight, surely! and l saw be +.
fore me long, irregular outline of
graystone, the dilapidated architecture
of which did not then pause to exam
inc, so hurriedly sought l the shelter
within its walls.
saw only, as I passed around it to
the point from which l guessed the
light must have shope, that it was an
cient and irregular, with many win
dows and balconies, and that it seemed
to. be matched with ivy, for at every
hand it tapped in my face like icy fin
gers that fain had thrust me back into
the outer darkness.
found door on the desirable side,
and jerked the huge brass knOcker
many times. 1t gave back only faint,
hollow echo, and having waited suffi-
GENTLY long for response, pushed
the door impatiently open.
/ found myself in great entrance
hall, unlike any modern one have ever
seen, with staircase winding out of it
on one end, and in the other an enor-
nous fireplace in which great fire
noisily glOwed, sending out Pickering
illumination, through which here and
there the shadows stalked and reached
out gaunt, spectral hands, as if to claim
the woman standing tall and dark and
silent before the open CRATE.
Her back was turned to me, and her
eyes seemed bent upon the ruddy blaze.
An unaccountable SILVER ran through
my being; yet L was no coward, so |
stepped up to her, and, since she seemed
deaf to the sound Of my footsteps. laid
my hand on her arm, and was in the act
of very deferential bow when the lady
turned. Good God!
Under masses of snowy hair cleaned
the darkest, widest, most mournful
eyes have ever beheld.
They seemed to pierce to my Utmost
soul in that one weird, wild glance. and
unnerved me SO that l turned, with a
/ cry. back toward the door.
Away from those awful OrbS, how
ever, my nerves restrung themselves. l
remembers that here was a human
being, fire; that outside was q frenzy