Morton braced himself against the gusts of wind and squalls of icy
rain which drenched his face and body. It was with difficulty that he
was able to see his way. There was no need, he said to himself, to
keep a lookout on a night like this. All the better. The flickering
smoky flame of the oil-lamp over the main gate cast a faint yellow
light around and threw ghostlike, moving shadows about the entrance.
Stumbling frequently against the large pebbles in the roadway and
wading almost ankle-deep through pools of muddy water, he managed to
reach the denser blackness along the castle wall, and stopped under its
protection to take a breath.
Glancing toward the sentry-boxes he saw the outline of a human figure
as a dim motionless silhouette. His hand sought the butt end of his
ready revolver, and the touch gave him confidence. Cautiously he
groped for the door. It yielded easily to his pressure. With careful
glances he satisfied himself that no one was about--the street totally
deserted--the only sounds to be heard were the steady splash and
beating of the rain and the groaning roars of the wind.
Through the heavy bars of the gate he could see the dim murky rays
filtering through the befogged window panes of the guardroom under the
wing which harbored the girls. As he stood peering into the distance a
faint light shone through the transom over the entrance to the chapel,
and he knew they were lighting up the place. It was followed by red
and green rays of light streaming through the stained-glass windows of
the nave.
Some minutes, which to John seemed an age, passed, when the sound of
a plaintive bell was borne to him in muffled tones on the damp, foggy
air. It was the vesper bell. Immediately through the drifting veil of
slanting rain he perceived figures flitting across the vaulted opening
in the castle wing. He was conscious of some one moving in the shadow
on his right, and before he realized it, a heavily cloaked figure came
into view followed by a similarly clothed but smaller form, a bare rod
behind.
Morton at once pushed the gate open and waited breathlessly.
“It is I--Morton,” he whispered, as the first figure neared him.
“I am Helène and--” she seized her companion’s hand, too excited for
words.
“We must hurry--quick, quick,” he whispered sharply. He led them
along the shadowy border so as to avoid the range of light, and urge
them across the street to the scant protection of the trees along the
opposite pavement.
He could almost hear his heart beating above the panting of the girls
by his side. He dared not run and feared to walk too slowly. One minute
and the worst would be over.
Helène walked steadily, but her companion stumbled frequently and was
trembling in every limb as she held on to his arm. Ah--here at last was
Rosen’s house.
Donald was ready and passed the girls through without a moment’s delay.
They were met by Rosen, who stood, his hands up as if in the act of
blessing, in the dimly lit hall. The noise brought Rachel from the
sitting room. She guided them through the house to the exit on the
further side. With an affectionate pressure of Helène’s hand and a kiss
on the sleeve of the Princess’s cloak, she murmured her parting wishes.
Once more they were in the rain, but this time sheltered from view by
the walls of the garden. Donald walked ahead, lantern in hand, and
opened the gate for the girls to pass through. Behind them came Morton
alert and ready.
In a few minutes they arrived at the place where the wagon stood
waiting. Quickly lifting the Princess, he whispered to her to lie down
on the right. Then turning to Helène he gently passed her in bidding
her lie to the left. The next instant the blackness of the cart’s
interior had swallowed him also, and the vehicle rumbled and splashed
its way as if it were being driven to market. Don alone remained
without, walking rapidly by its side and searching intently to the
right and left.
The girls huddled close together, and lay with their arms about each
other. The rain beat down on the canvas covering, drowning all other
sounds; only occasionally could they hear the crunching of the wheels
rolling clumsily over the roughly paved road. It was with difficulty
that they kept themselves from falling on one side or the other. As
they were wondering what might happen, they heard the voice of Morton
raised above the din, assuring them, in German, that everything was
going well; they need have no anxiety. He would light the lantern after
they had put the town gate behind them. He had barely finished speaking
when the wagon gave a great lurch and bounded forward with a fearful
clatter. They had entered the main road leading out of the town, an
abominably paved causeway which seemed to have been made for preventing
anyone either leaving the place or coming into it. It was with the
utmost difficulty that John could now make himself heard but he managed
to convey to the girls the information as to where they were and that
they would soon arrive at the gate. It would be necessary for them to
keep perfectly quiet, until that danger was passed.
Helène held on to the hand of the Princess, whispering endearing and
encouraging words. She knew that Morton would protect them at all
hazards, even though she could not see him. He had shown her that he
was neither a man to be trifled with nor one to give in at the first
difficulty. Her thoughts of him were of confidence; she remembered the
appealing words he had spoken to her that morning. He was brave, or her
father would not have sent him, and he must be good or her father would
not have trusted him.
The wagon rumbled less now, and the driver could be heard speaking to
his horses. The wheels crunched the gravel more heavily as they turned
more slowly, and the next moment they had come to a halt. Soon voices
were heard, and a shaft of light streamed into the wagon through a
small opening in the canvas covering at the rear. Helène saw John
looking out from between the canvas flaps. He was crouching silently, a
pistol in each hand.
A loud laugh followed by a command and some exclamations, and then a
cheery: “Bene, avante.” The rain was now falling in a soft patter on
the cart’s covering, so that the clinking sound of the driver urging
the horses on could be easily heard. A creaking of the harness, and
they were off once more at a slow trot.
“We are safe,” came in a loud whisper from John. “A few minutes more
and we can have a light.”
For the first time since they had left the castle the Princess now
spoke. “Mr. Morton,” she said in English and in a voice betokening the
strain consequent on her condition, “I know not how to thank you. I----”
“Please, say no more,” begged Morton.
Helène could not speak. The tension had been almost more than she could
bear. She found relief, however, in laughter, an hysterical kind of
laughter it sounded to Morton’s ears. But he was glad to hear it; it
told him that he need have no further anxiety about the girls’ courage;
they would measure up to what was still before them.
The wagon came to a halt and John stepped out, carefully closing the
canvas flaps behind him. He returned soon, however, and informed the
girls that there was nothing the matter; he would leave them alone
now and take his seat alongside the driver, and a man would precede
the cart on horseback. In a few minutes a brass lantern was swinging
from the fore peak of the canvas hood, its grateful light spreading a
pleasant warmth into the interior of the vehicle.
The girls, curious as to their situation, looked about them. At first
they could make out nothing but vague shadows, but as their eyes became
accustomed to the flickering light they saw with surprise the excellent
arrangements that had been made for their comfort. Two strong but soft
and yielding couches ran lengthwise along the floor of the wagon, with
a space between them. In the corners were a number of downy pillows,
while from the canvas covering hung two robes of fur.
Helène was delighted. “See, Princess,” she exclaimed, “see what a cozy
place we are in.” The Princess lay huddled, sobbing softly. “Oh, dear
lady, do not give way. Come, rest yourself on this couch.” She lifted
the girl as best she could, laid her on one of the boxes and covered
her with one of the robes. “There is nothing to be afraid of.”
“I am not afraid, dear Helène,” said the Princess, “but the suddenness
of all that has happened has unnerved me. I’ll be quite well again
soon.”
The flash of a lighted match flared in and the odor of a cigar was
wafted to them on the breeze. How good it was to smell the fragrance.
It meant a man, and a man meant protection. The next moment Morton’s
cheery voice came through: “Make yourselves comfortable, ladies. You’ll
find everything you want. Take my advice and get a sleep.”
Helène thanked him and said they would. She went back to where the
Princess lay and saw with satisfaction that she was sleeping. Without,
the storm seemed to have renewed its fury. The rain beat on the canvas,
the wheels groaned and crunched, the wagon lurched from side to side
in its heavy progress, and the swish of water poured from overhanging
trees. Helène had now grown accustomed to these sounds. She looked at
her watch and noted with surprise that it was but just gone eight. They
had been only two hours on their journey--two hours that had seemed to
her like two days! She felt very tired; her head ached and her limbs
were cramped. She would take Mr. Morton’s advice and rest; perhaps she
would feel better after a sleep.
“Are you asleep?” It was Morton whispering loudly to her from the front
seat.
“No,” she whispered back, “what is it?”
“I just wanted to tell you that you must not be anxious if you hear
noises soon; we are about to cut the telegraph wires. In another hour
we shall make our first stop for a change of horses.”
Helène thanked him for the information and lay down. She tried her
best to sleep but failed. She heard the driver halt his horses and
distinguished Morton’s voice giving orders. Then she heard the clinking
of steel implements and the sound of branches snapping. They must be
cutting the wires, she thought. A few minutes later she heard Donald
call out: “All’s finished, Mr. Morton,” and the journey was resumed.
And now she knew that they were ascending, for she felt the straining
of the horses in the creaking harness, and counted deliberately the
squelching of their feet in the muddy track. It had grown quite cold,
and the fragrance of spruce and hemlock came to her. She lay on the
couch looking up at the swaying lantern, half dozing, half waking.
As in a dream she heard Morton speaking to Papiu and Donald: “It is
snowing. We certainly are in luck. It’ll cover up all our tracks. Say,
Don, isn’t it good to feel the snow again? We haven’t seen any in three
years, have we?” And Donald’s hearty laugh came back in response. “It
ain’t much of a snowfall,” he said, “but if things work anyway like
they do at home, I guess we’re in for a good blizzard.”
She cuddled herself closer in the fur robe and felt happy in its
comforting warmth. How long she lay there thus she did not know, but
she rose up suddenly and looked about her in wide-eyed surprise. The
wagon had come to a halt, and she heard the flaps at the rear of the
vehicle being drawn aside. The Princess, too, had been aroused, and
she, too, was staring with frightened eyes about her.
“Here we are, ladies,” came the cheery voice of Morton. He was standing
outside, a lantern swinging from his arm. “Our first stopping place.
You may come out now.” He assisted them in gallant style out of
the wagon and led them to a wood-built shack. “Welcome!” he cried,
laughing. They entered and found themselves in a low roughly built
room in the center of which stood a table made of boards and by its
side a crude bench.
Placing his lantern on the table he bade them be seated. He would
bring them some food. Helène and the Princess looked about the place
and shivered beneath their furs. It was cheerless and bare enough to
satisfy the most fanatic of hermits. The yellow light from the lantern
filled the distant parts of it with unearthly shadows. The two girls
instinctively moved closer to each other.
John returned almost immediately carrying a promising looking basket
from which he took out some snow-white napkins, a goodly supply of
sandwiches, oranges, cakes, tin cups, a flask of wine and a carafe of
water.
“There, ladies, is a feast for the gods, or, I should say, for the
goddesses. Eat heartily because you will need all your strength. I will
leave you now to yourselves. I shall be back in half an hour. Have no
anxiety.”
The girls were hungry, and the food and drink were very welcome. Their
appetite satisfied they felt both strengthened and cheered. Donald
came in and introduced himself by addressing the peaked roof. They
smiled and nodded kindly at him. He busied himself removing quickly the
remains of the dinner and disappeared.
The Princess was smiling happily now. “Dear Helène,” she said, “I was
very wrong. I ought to have known that you knew best. Please forgive
me!”
Helène pressed her friend’s hand with happy tears in her eyes.
“The Holy Virgin,” she said, “will protect us, and Mr. Morton is a
gentleman.”
Punctual to the minute John came in and found them ready to continue
their journey. Helping them into their place of refuge, he carefully
closed the rear flaps and resumed his seat by the side of Papiu. Once
more the cart took up its rumbling and the wheels their crunching.
The road was hilly, and the four horses strained and pulled, urged on
by the driver and a man who sat astride one of the leaders. The girls
lay comfortably covered and snugly embedded on their couches, but the
steep incline caused them to slip occasionally, and once Helène came to
the floor of the wagon with a thud. Morton called in that they should
put up the boards they would find near the end of their couches and
brace their feet against it. Helène carried out his instructions, and
could not help wondering at Morton’s forethought. He had thought of
everything. He might be in the business of rescuing girls in distress.
Their progress now was much slower than it had been so far--the climb
was becoming steeper and steeper. Soon the squeaking of the wheels
ceased and the wagon swayed no more--they had come to a smoother road.
The wind had almost gone down entirely; but the sound of swaying trees,
the crisp swish of evergreen branches against the sides of the cart,
the whisper of the woods, came to them in softened drones and murmurs
and soothed them drowsily. Soon both were asleep.
Morton, in front, puffed silently at his cigar, perfectly happy and
deeply thankful for the success which so far had followed him in this
undertaking. It had been a day of no little anxiety; for, in spite of
the cheerfulness he assumed before the girls, he had had, it must be
confessed, many qualms. The Princess was an unknown quantity to him,
and he did not know but that she might be difficult to manage. His hope
lay in the Comtesse--in Helène--he dwelt lovingly on its syllables as
he murmured the name softly. She was a great girl, he kept saying to
himself--a great girl. What lovely eyes she had! And her smile--Ah! her
smile--it was like golden sunshine after rain. He puffed at his cigar
and found it had gone out.
Then the rider on the leader gave a loud grunt, and Donald’s voice came
to him, calling out, “Whoa, boys, Whoa!”
Papiu had reigned in his horses, and the cart came to a full step with
a shock.
Helène awoke with a start. She heard the horses shaking their bits and
the men hurrying about as they undid their harness. Then Morton came in
and said: “Time to get up, ladies. We have arrived at our own house.”
She rose quickly and gently woke her companion. The Princess rubbed her
eyes and inquired what was the matter. Helène told her what Morton had
said. In a minute both were ready and Morton assisted them to alight.
They were before a low, roughly built hutlike building, under
snow-covered trees, the drooping branches of which swept the
roof-planks, which were glittering in a crystalline snow-mantle. A
couple of lanterns hung from the eaves over the entrance to the hut
and lit up the strange scene. Opposite this structure stood a loftier
building. The lantern on a bench showed a narrow porch with a low door
leading into a lighted room. Boards on the wet snow were placed as a
foot-walk, and over these the two girls were led by Morton into the
house.
“Welcome home!” he said gaily, his eyes laughing.