The morning dawned bright and clear. The frost seemed settled, the sky
gave no signs of storm. The party of gentlemen and boys started on their
skating expedition in great spirits.
'Do you wish you were big enough to go too, Denis?' said Nettie, as they
stood at the door after watching them start.
'Not without Prinnie,' said Denis, hugging his pet, as he spoke. 'I don't
care to go anywhere without Prin, and it would hurt his dear little feet
to put skates on them, wouldn't it.'
Nettie burst out laughing at the idea.
'Come in, children. Don't stay there in the cold,' their mother called
out; and as they went into the library at her summons, Granny asked them
what they were laughing at.
''Twas Nettie,' said Denis, gravely as usual; and when Nettie told her
what had amused her, Granny looked rather anxiously at Denis.
'And do you never laugh, my boy?' she asked. 'If you say funny things
that make other people laugh, how is it you don't laugh yourself?'
Denis lifted up his face for a kiss, but there was an expression in his
eyes which Granny did not quite understand.
'That child looks--I don't know how exactly,' she said to his mother,
when Denis and Nettie had gone up-stairs. 'He is such a dear little
fellow, but there is a look of suffering or endurance in his face that I
can't understand. Your nurses are really kind to the children, I suppose?'
'Perfectly--I'm sure of it,' replied Denis's mother. 'He is always
quiet. Perhaps he is a little disappointed to-day at seeing Alex and
Lambert go off.'
But Granny wasn't satisfied. She resolved to watch little Denis for
herself.
He was looking graver than usual even, for the thought was heavy on his
mind that with his brothers away the whole day, the dreaded gallery
would be worse than ever. With Alex or Lambert at hand, he could often
manage to make the journeys to and from the nursery in their company;
but to-day he had no one to depend on but Nettie, and nurse did not like
Nettie always roaming about with him. It would not do to get Nettie
scolded for being so good to him. Poor Denis! He felt terribly deserted
as he followed Nettie up-stairs, Prin at his feet.
'Dear Prin,' he whispered, 'I wish it was time for us to go back home
where there's no picshur gallery to frighten us. Only then, dear Prin,
you wouldn't be coming too, for your home is here, you know, dear Prin.'
Prin wagged his tail and looked up at Denis. It was all that he could
do, poor little dog.
The day kept up fine and bright till towards two o'clock. The clouds
began to gather in leaden masses, and the dull, gray-blue look one knows
so well in winter, came over the sky.
'I'm afraid it's going to snow again,' said the children's mother, on
their way home from the despised pond, where Linda and Nettie and some
of the young ladies staying in the house had been amusing themselves by
skating, and Denis had been allowed to slide, with Prince at his heels,
of course.
'What a nuisance!' said one of the girls. 'All our skating will be over
if it does, till the pond is cleared again. It is just nice now. And oh,
by the bye, you will be uneasy about uncle and the boys if it snows'--for
this young lady was a cousin of Linda's and the others--'won't you, aunt?
Hatchetts is an awkward place to get away from in a snowstorm.'
Denis listened with all his ears, while his mother looked up anxiously
at the sky.
'If it really comes on as bad as that, I hope they won't attempt to come
home to-night,' she said.
'They might be losted in the snow, and we have no big dogs!' exclaimed
Denis in great distress, as already a few flakes began to fall.
'Don't be afraid, my boy,' said his mother. 'Father will not do anything
rash, you may be sure.'
But her relief nevertheless was great when, about four o'clock, a
servant who had started with the party in the morning, came back with
the news that the gentlemen were going to stay away all night. He had
started as soon as the weather gave signs of changing, so he had got
back without difficulty. The snow had not begun yet where they were
skating, he said, but it was plain to be seen that it was coming, though
the gentlemen hoped to have two or three hours' good exercise, as they
would dine and sleep with the friend on whose property they were.
It was well they had so decided. By five o'clock the snowstorm was at
its height. It was too dark to distinguish anything from the windows,
but news came in from outside that the snow lay deep already, and gave
no signs of leaving off.
'We must make ourselves as comfortable as we can,' said Granny, as she
told the servants to put more wood on the fire, 'and be thankful that
our dear ones are not out in any danger. So you've come to say good-night,
dears, have you?' she went on, as the little girls and Denis just then
came into the drawing-room. 'Good-night, my darlings; you've had a happy
day, I hope, in spite of the weather?'
'Oh yes, Granny,' they answered eagerly. 'We've had blind-man's buff
with Cousin Edith and the others in the hall.'
'And now you're sleepy and ready for bed. Good-night and pleasant
dreams,' and the children trotted off again. Granny had kissed Denis
among the others, and had been pleased to see his little face rosier
than usual, thanks to the romp they had been having. Afterwards she
wondered to herself for not having remembered that with his brothers
away the little fellow would be rather lonely in his part of the house,
but somehow it did not come into her mind just then. Nor did it occur to
his mother. So the children were put to bed as usual, and Denis made no
complaint. Indeed, once in his little room he felt quite safe. Nurse
had brought him herself through the gallery well wrapped up in her arms,
having undressed him by the nursery fire, and he hid his face on her
shoulder as she carried him, and avoided all sight of his silent enemies
on the wall.
'You're quite comfortable, Master Denis?' she asked, as she left him.
'Quite,' he replied, 'and nurse, you'll let me have Prin up to-morrow
morning?'
'Oh yes, dear,' she answered kindly; 'you were a good little boy about
him this afternoon. You shall have him to-morrow.'
Denis gave a sigh as he composed himself to sleep. He was not quite easy
in his mind about Prince, whom nurse had sent downstairs because Baby
was in a cross humour, and cried when he jumped on her.
'Poor Prince,' thought Denis. 'I hope he's not very unhappy. Robert'
(Robert was a young footman) 'p'omised to be kind to him, and not let
him go out in the snow. I hope father, and Alex, and Lambert won't be
lost in the snow, 'cos Prin is too little to get them out. I hope'----
But what he hoped more was lost in a confusion of ideas--Prince, and
his father and brothers, and the falling snow seemed all mixed together
in his brain, for Denis fell fast asleep.
The snowstorm was over, though he did not know it; since six or seven
o'clock no more had fallen. The clouds dispersed, though some of them
were still to be seen hurry-scurrying over the face of the moon in a
very provoking way, for she had come out in full, anxious to see what
was going on down there on the earth, which she had not had a good sight
of for some time past. She peeped in at the window of little Denis's
room and saw him sleeping sweetly, his little face flushed as he lay,
a contrast to those of the long rows of Granny's faded ancestors which
she glanced at for a moment, through the windows of the gallery, as the
clouds passed by.
Suddenly Denis woke, and half-started up in his bed. What had awakened
him? For a minute or two he could not tell. It was not the moon, though
she was there again, peeping in at the chinks left at the corners of the
window-blind, and lighting up the white cover of his bed. No, it could
not have been the moon, for, as he became more fully awake, he felt
sure he had heard some sound. He sat up and listened. Yes, there it was
again, a low wail or cry, once or twice repeated, and seeming not far
off. Denis sat bolt upright; he did not feel afraid, he only wondered
very much what it could be; again he heard it; it sounded like a cry for
help. What could it be? Visions of Alex and Lambert in the snow came
into his mind. How dreadful if it was one of them! and the cry sounded
so near too, as if it were some one at the side door to the garden--a
door which opened close by the stair leading to the nursery. What could
he do? Oh, if he only had one of these great brave dogs that his mother
had read about! The thought made him start--was not the cry like the
whine of a dog. Could it be Prince, his own dear little Prince out there
alone; poor tender Prince, that could not bear the cold, and would
be frightened? Could Robert have forgotten him? Up jumped Denis, and
without stopping for slippers or dressing-gown ran to the door.
'I will call Alex and Lambert,' he thought; 'they'll come with me to let
in poor Prin.'
But suddenly he remembered that Alex and Lambert were not there; they
were staying away till to-morrow. Denis stopped short--he must go
_alone_ to rescue Prince, alone through the terrible gallery. Bad enough
in the daytime and with Nettie's hand, or in the evening with all the
cheerful lamps lighted, what would it be in the middle of the night, in
the dark?--no, not in the dark, as just then his eyes fell on the strip
of brightness across the floor; worse still, it would be moonlight in
the gallery, and Denis shivered as he remembered what Linda had said of
the look of the old portraits in the moonlight.
'No,' he said aloud, 'I can't go. I can't, poor little Prin. I can't
pass along there and feel them running after me with their faces all red
and blue and green, and dreadful. I can't.'
But just then a rather low piteous whine reached his ears. It half broke
his heart to hear it, and at the same moment, as if by magic, some of
his mother's words that Sunday afternoon returned to the little fellow's
mind. 'Mastering the fear--that is the truest bravery of all; when
something good or kind to do comes in the way, to do it even if one is
frightened.' Denis stood up again. 'I'll try to be brave,' he thought.
'I fink God will take care of me if I go to let Prin in, so that he
won't die of cold.'
[Illustration]