not that you are mine? I am not worthy of you—except as love for you
makes me worthy—” his voice dropping into tender cadence, “but he—the
monarch of all cruelty—is not of our kind. His very kiss is death; let
him find a bride in his own frozen empire—the North Pole!” He shook his
clinched hand in the direction of the swift rushing shadow, which so
depressed them all: “Haste! haste, men and maidens! Let us flee to our
own mountain home, where we can defy the monster! Our Lilleela has just
cause for fear, for none upon whom he has looked with the desire for
possession ever escaped him; and it is only by speedily reaching our
caverns that we may hope for safety.”
They turned about, and like a flock of frightened birds they flitted
away, with no more noise than would be made by the rustle of a bat’s
wing, and were lost in the gloom.
The moon shone out cold and pale, as though grieving over the dread
desolation and lighted up the angry face of the Ice King with a pallid
luster; he puffed out his gaunt cheeks menacingly; his eyes darted flame
like the quick thrusts of a sword blade in deadly battle; as he saw that
the Gnomes had fled he shrieked in wrath. He swayed the tall trees, and
tossed their dead branches in every direction; he fiercely threw the
rocks from the lofty mountain summits, and as they went crashing down,
down, with thunderous noise, they splintered and tore up the ice like a
silver foam, which glittered and flashed with pale prismatic glow as it
caught the moon’s sad, cold ray.
Faster, faster flew the tiny band; closer clung Lilleela to Walado’s
hand as that wrathful shriek reached their ears; dashing wildly past the
brow of the darkly towering mountain, as the crashing of rocks smote
them with wild affright; leaping across the roaring torrent, to slip and
sprawl on the glassy ice of the further bank; up and away, bruised and
sore; past lifeless trees, whose dead branches were falling all about
them, until at last they reached a mountain home seldom used by them.
Nothing was to be seen save a tiny crevice between the rocks; one after
another they lay down, and silently slid through; then, and not until
then, Walado spoke:
“We are safe! Even the Ice King cannot enter here! We are safe, quite
safe!”
“Are you sure? Ah, my Walado, he is so vengeful!” sighed Lilleela.
Walado laughed, all his funny little puckers laughing as well:
“He knows nothing of our hiding place, and he could not force his great
rigid body through the narrow opening. Oh, we are quite safe!” he
reiterated gleefully.
But Lilleela sighed.
Walado felt the hopelessness of that sound, and it grieved his tender
heart; he passed his rugged, brown hand over her flossy hair, with a
touch as soft as the brushing of a butterfly’s wing.
“My treasure, if ill befall us here in this our vaulted hall, there are
still the lower caverns, where none can possibly come save ‘we who
know’.”
They soon regained confidence, and joked and made merry; they were such
trusting, childlike beings, taking the comfort and joy of each hour at
its utmost worth.
Their enjoyment was at its height, when faintly heard came that long
chilling wail. Two of their number had gone outside unnoticed by Walado;
they came shooting in through the entrance, their brown faces bleached
an ashen gray, their teeth chattering, their eyes protruding. All sprang
up in wild affright.
“Where have you been? What is the matter?” cried Walado, as sternly as
the gentle soul could speak.
“We but crept out for the birds we had snared! We thought to help out
the feast!” said Tador, the hairy one.
“And I had a skin of berries that I gathered in the valley below; they
were very sweet, Walado!” answered Sudana, the good.
“Tell me what you saw,” replied Walado sadly, his anger melted away by
their deprecating looks and words.
Sudana answered: “We saw the Ice King; his cloud chariot so low that it
touched the top of the mountain, he was so angry that the frost flew in
great clouds from his nostrils; his breath reached us and chilled us
through.”
Walado opened his lips to speak, when—“O-o-W-W-ee,” filling all that
vaulted chamber with the dread sound, it came borne on a wind so chill
that it pierced the hearts of each with cold and fear.
These loving souls had never felt the need of a ruler, each doing his
utmost through love for all, thus there had been no dissensions; now all
turned instinctively to Walado for guidance. They were growing benumbed
with the chill of that icy breath.
Walado silently pointed to the narrow passage leading deep into the
bowels of the earth. Each took his beloved by the hand and prepared for
the descent; before they had taken so much as one step, there came a
crash so awful that it shook the great mountain to its center; the
falling of rocks resounded in deafening commotion; the Ice King’s
snarling wail echoed and re-echoed throughout the cavern; bitter, bitter
cold grew the air; crash—crash—crash, came the sound of falling
mountains heaped upon them; covering them deeply beneath the _débris_.
Then was a new horror added; the roaring and growling of many horrible
beasts, as they fought and struggled for entrance through the narrow
passageway, to escape the falling ruins, and the deadly cold.
There was the shrieking and tumult of the tempest; the hiss and roar of
the struggling reptiles, but higher and shriller than all else was the
fierce wailing menace of the angry Ice King; it shrieked to them
insolently: “You defy me, do you? We’ll see! We’ll s-e-e!”
Gray and pallid grew the little brown faces as they silently followed
Walado down into the bowels of the earth until they came to a lofty
room; here they huddled silently together.
Thus they remained day after day, night after night, no ray of light to
distinguish the one from the other; but as time passed on the pangs of
hunger assailed them fiercely. Tador’s birds were divided, and by
morsels eaten; Sudana’s berries were parceled out by ones and by twos,
Walado adding all his share to Lilleela’s, although she knew not that it
was so; grayer grew his little, wrinkled face, but ever it smiled
tenderly upon Lilleela, and with patient kindness he answered all
questions in unselfish endeavor to comfort and cheer the others. For a
time they could feel the earth quiver and vibrate as though in
shuddering fear, then came a time of awful calm, when the sound of a
voice smote the deadly silence with all the horror of thunder tones,
until they shrank affrighted, and spoke only in awed whispers—afraid of
the awful echo which answered sound. Paler and more spiritlike grew
Lilleela; sadder, sadder grew Walado as he pillowed her head upon his
broad breast. The sighs of all rose incessantly!
At last Tador whispered, “Shall I not descend further toward the center
of the earth? It will be warmer than it is here—it grows so very cold!”
shivering.
“As you wish, Tador,” replied Walado sadly.
Hearing Walado’s answer all clamored to accompany him—anything seemed
preferable to this inaction.
As they prepared for the descent, Sudana said: “We do not know what we
may find, Walado,” trying to speak hopefully.
“Gold and jewels in plenty, but all that lies hidden in the whole
mountain range, are not worth as much as one juicy berry,” and he
glanced at Lilleela’s wan face. She was far too weak to accompany the
party, and all insisted that Walado must remain with her; he silently
folded her in his arms; he would not have left her.
She raised her sad eyes to his face: “Better had I have given myself to
the Ice King; then I only should have perished,” she said.
“No! no! no!” whispered they, as with one voice.
Wearily, wearily time passed on, but they did not return. Lilleela dozed
and whispered fitfully, but Walado sat with staring eyes, and listened
intently for sounds of his comrades, he was afraid to move lest he
disturb his precious burden.
At last she raised herself up on her elbow, her eyes full of agony: “Oh,
Walado, take me up above—I cannot breathe here! Oh, I must get one
breath of air!” her chest heaving convulsively, her hollow cheeks
palpitating with the struggle for inhalation.
One great tear rolled down Walado’s cheek, and fell splashing on the
rocky floor.
Around his waist he wore a rope made of the hide of animals, which
served to hold his stone hammer and ax; with this rope he bound Lilleela
to him, passing it under her arms and around his neck.
“Dear one, put your arms about my neck to steady yourself all that you
are able, and I will carry you safely up.”
Her chest rose and fell spasmodically; her heart fluttered faintly, or
thumped with wild, irregular motion.
The walls of the shaft were covered with ice, rendering it almost
impossible to obtain a foothold; inch by inch he made slow headway,
every muscle strained to its utmost tension; his hands leaving stains of
blood with every grasp. He could at last see a ray—scarcely of light,
but a little less gloom; he was so exhausted that he was gasping for
breath; he placed his hands upon a slight projection for one more
effort—it may have been that his eagerness was too great, or that he
grasped but brittle ice which broke off—for he fell. Down, down he
slipped, with inconceivable rapidity; weak from want of food, and
frightened lest he injure his beloved, he lost his presence of mind.
Lilleela recalled his wandering faculties; after one frantic scream, she
made no outcry—indeed she had little breath for speech—but with her lips
close to his ear she whispered: “Throw out your hands and feet against
the wall, and I will do the same; we may at least break the fall!”
Little by little the speed decreased, until as Walado’s foot touched
another projection they stopped altogether. He waited long enough to
recover breath and a little strength. Lilleela’s head fell over
sidewise; she had fainted, and hung a dead weight about his neck; he
dared not loose his hands, though he madly longed to caress the cheek
which felt so cold to his trembling lips. Once more, nerved by
desperation, he made an effort to reach the upper cave; slowly and
carefully he climbed; resting often—a hand or foot slipping—clinging
frantically as the ice became thicker, and the ascent more difficult. At
last, just as his fingers were over the upper edge his foot slipped, and
threw the other from its resting-place; for one breathless instant he
hung suspended by his fingers—Lilleela’s lifeless weight dragging him
down! Sparks of fire shot before his eyes! A noise as of rushing water
sounded in his ears: His breathing became labored and stertorious! A
bitter cry rose to his lips as Lilleela’s cold cheek touched his
drooping face; he made one supreme effort, and half unconscious he lay
upon the floor of the upper cavern, Lilleela’s cold form clasped in his
embrace!
The chill at length restored him to consciousness; he sat up and unbound
Lilleela; he struck two pieces of flint rapidly together, and ignited
the punk which he carried in a bag about his neck. He observed that the
cold wind had ceased blowing in, thus he knew that the Ice King must
have departed, probably believing that all were dead. Well, so they
were—all but himself—and—perhaps Lilleela!
He felt for her heart, but could find no pulsation; he kissed her cold
cheeks, and blew his warm breath between her parted lips; at last the
madness of despair took possession of him. He groveled on the icy floor!
He shrieked aloud, to be answered only by a thousand hollow echoes! He
ran to the opening through which they had entered, and found the passage
barred by rocks and dirt; he tore at the rubbish with his hands as an
animal digs with its claws, only to fall back in despair with the tears
coursing down his cheeks.
“Oh, my Lilleela! If I could but reach the air! If I could only carry
you into the sunshine and let it warm your cold face! Oh, my Lilleela.
Oh, my Lilleela!” he cried, gathering her once more into his arms. All
the cave was now lighted with a dim, red light, from a few slivers of
wood ignited with the burning punk. Water had oozed through the rocks
from above and formed long, glittering icicles, frozen by the fierce
breath of the Ice King; the floors and walls were likewise of ice, cold
and scintillating. The sighs which had arisen from the imprisoned Gnomes
had congealed into forms of wonderful beauty, as pure as the white souls
of the passing spirits; all over that arched ceiling hung fairy curtains
of frost, wonderful jewels, each like a frozen tear, ornamented each
jutting point. Walado sat down with his back against an angle of the
wall, and clasped Lilleela in loving embrace; he smiled sadly yet
lovingly as his eyes rested upon walls and dome: “It is a fitting tomb
for thy fair body, my beloved! Thy spirit, not even the Ice King can
imprison; and I—thine even in death—I go with thee, to serve thee
still!”
He bowed his face against her fair hair, and as he so rested his spirit
left his homely little body.
It seems almost a pity that they could not have known how fully their
wrongs were avenged. Hot waves washed up from the tropic seas and melted
the crust of ice with which the cruel monarch had encased all the hills;
and he was driven by the south wind to his lair at the North Pole, there
to remain in expiation forever. Thus the hills became fertile, and with
the passing of those pure souls there sprang to life on the mountain
side—the primrose, for Lilleela’s pink-white skin; the columbine, for
the azure of her eyes; the gentian, for the crimson of her lips; and the
tall, white lily, for the stately grace of her body; and always the
brown-coated robin, with his warm breast, sings lovingly by day and
sleeps in their midst by night, and thus Walado’s soul still faithfully
serves his beloved.
AN UNFAIR EXCHANGE.
In and around the bank of “Lombard and Lombard” all was confusion.
Arthur Lombard, the senior member of the firm, had suddenly fallen to
the floor as he was entering his office, to all appearance dead.
Physicians were hastily summoned; policemen were called to keep out the
ubiquitous small boy, and the omnipresent curiosity seeker. The great
doors were closed with a crash as the grave physician gave his verdict:
“He is dead; heart failure!” The truth which conveys a great grief, ever
seems heartless, and in a degree, coarse.
Death shocks us ever, we think of it as connected with a sick bed and
fit preparation; deep down in our inner consciousness we form plans;
when the dark angel shall knock at our door, we will hastily don our
robes of sanctity, and fly away to eternal bliss. We are horrified when
he smites one of our number unaware—but we never think it might have
been us instead.
The dead body was removed to his residence in the most fashionable part
of the city; crape hung from the elegant portal; crape draped the closed
doors of the bank, and lent adventitious aid to the gloom of the high
walled, narrow street.
How many truly mourned I cannot say; a merchant in high standing
exchanged views with an artisan, both equally interested, as both had
all they possessed in the bark, albeit one had thousands of dollars
deposited, the other but a few hundred.
“How will it affect the bank?” questioned the artisan.
“I really could not say, but I think not seriously,” was the guarded
reply.
“As I understand, he was the head of the concern.”
“Y-e-s, but Gus Lombard is all right. It is a pity, though, that Arthur
was taken off.”
Such is the sorrow of the world; a few who have known us intimately may
feel a less selfish grief; our motives are so complex, and selfishness
so much a part of human nature, that we seldom judge our own actions
correctly. If but one or two can say with sincerity that our lives and
our language were pure, then we shall not have lived in vain, as every
living being—whether good or bad—will influence some other to follow his
example. Lombard had been an unmarried man, who kept up a fine
establishment, and lived in good style; but being very reticent few knew
aught of his business affairs.
He was laid out in one of the parlors; windows were darkened; lamps were
shaded; heavy carpets deadened the footfalls, until the silence and
gloom became oppressive.
Late at night, three days after he was stricken down, a slight, fair
girl entered the parlor noiselessly; Edith Herford had been his ward;
she had also been his betrothed, although no one save his brother Gus
was aware of the fact. Noiselessly she pushed aside the _portières_, and
seeing the man on watch lying back in his chair, sleeping soundly, she
crossed the room, and knelt beside the coffin.
Sobs shook her slight frame as she laid her face on his cold breast:
“Oh, Arthur, my beloved!” she whispered, caressing his cold face,
kissing the folded hands.
“To-morrow they will put you out of my sight, and I shall be indeed
bereft. Oh, my love! my love!”
With bowed head she wept silently; the ticking of the clock sounded loud
and awesome in the unnatural silence, “tick-tock, tick-tock; time-going,
time-gone,” it seemed to say; the breathing of the sleeping watcher
vibrated on the still air like an electric shock; a brooding mystery
seemed to hang over the dead form, it appeared like sculptured marble,
which at any moment might become instinct with life; it was hard to
realize that the soul had gone from the body, the features were so
placid, and were tinged with a roseate glow by the shades on the
incandescent light.
Edith’s nerves were keyed up to their highest pitch, it seemed to her
that she must scream; as she pressed her lips to the cold hand, she
fancied that there was a slight movement of the fingers; she thought the
eyelids quivered; she pressed her handkerchief over her mouth, afraid
she should cry out.
“Oh, Arthur! My Arthur! I know that you are gone from me forever, and
this is but a delusive fancy, would it were true, that I might not be so
lonely!” she whispered, gazing mournfully at him.
The watcher stirred in his sleep, muttering low and indistinctly. Edith
started up in wild affright, her heart beating tumultuously; to her
excited imagination the lights seemed to burn dimly, as though about to
go out.
The watcher shifted uneasily in his chair, then slept quietly on.
Edith turned toward her dear dead; she would once more kiss the cold
lips, a last farewell, then return to her room.
An appalled scream shivered through the gruesome silence.
The watcher started from his sleep in wild affright, and caught Edith as
she fell fainting.
Arthur Lombard was sitting upright, staring about with wondering eyes.
Dropping the fainting girl on the nearest sofa, the watcher rang a
hurried peal, and hastily dispatched a servant for a physician. He
tremblingly approached Arthur, shivering as he laid his hand upon his
shoulder; but managed to say soothingly: “Hadn’t you best lie down?”
Arthur looked at him in a bewildered way, seeming not in the least to
understand him.
Though trembling in every limb, he gently pressed Arthur backward; who
gave a tired sigh, muttered something which the man did not understand,
and instantly sank into a refreshing slumber.
A moment later the physician hurried in, looked wise, felt his pulse,
tested his temperature, and said, as though the circumstance was of
ordinary occurrence:
“Suspended animation! He will be all right in a few days; get these
things off him, and get him into bed as gently as possible; do not let a
hint of the preparation for burial reach him; the shock of such
knowledge would in all probability actually kill him.”
Edith had regained consciousness, and with timid hand touched his
sleeve. “You think that he will recover?”
“Certainly! Certainly, Miss Herford! I see nothing to prevent it.”
“But he looked and acted so strangely,” said Edith tremblingly.
“No doubt! No doubt! So would you or I, placed in the same
circumstances. There, there! Run along to bed, I’ll stay here the rest
of the night, and see that he is all right,” gently pushing her through
the door as he ceased speaking.
The next morning Arthur awoke feeling comfortably well, but very weak.
The physician was sitting beside the bed when he opened his eyes; Arthur
regarded him curiously, a puzzled look overspreading his countenance as
his gaze wandered about the room. He murmured something strange;
receiving no reply, he said slowly, like a child just beginning to talk:
“Where am I?”
“In your own bed, of course; where should you be?”
He lay quiet, looking around curiously, as though everything were new to
him. “Why am I here?” still with the same hesitation, as though not
certain as to the meaning of his words.
“Where in the mischief would you wish, or expect to be, if not in your
own home?” answered the doctor a trifle impatiently.
He looked troubled but asked no more questions; presently he lifted his
long, white hand, adorned with a handsome ring, and examined it as
though he had never before seen it; he seemed strangely unable to
express his feelings.
“Jove!” said the doctor later, “I wonder if the fellow has lost his
wits! It is a pity if so, for he was one of the shrewdest of men, and a
sharp financier.”
If Edith hovered about him, or caressed him with gentle touch, or called
him fond names, he looked at her in surprise, and gave not the slightest
return.
She would look at him in grieved surprise, and on one occasion asked him
with trembling lips: “Do you no longer love me, Arthur?”
“Love you? I—guess—so! I do not know what you mean!” looking helplessly
at her.
She burst into tears which were quickly suppressed as she coldly left
the room. From that time she offered him no caresses, but he seemed not
to notice the omission.
As Edith left the room in anger he looked after her, his brow wrinkled
in perplexity.
He was certainly in a strange condition; he appeared to enjoy his meals;
he slept well; but he seemed to take no interest in anything more than
that—he did not seem to understand that there was anything in which he
ought to take an interest.
One day, as he sat languidly looking out of the window, Gus said to him:
“You will soon be well enough to attend to business!”
“What business?” he asked vacantly.
“Why, your banking business of course!” answered Gus in a tone of
disgust; he thought his brother must be making a pretence of not
understanding. Arthur looked at him blankly but made no reply.
Edith asked the physician: “What do you think of him? Is he insane?”
“No! Neither insane nor idiotic, mental shock! He will recover, he is
like a child with everything to learn.”
It is hard to tell what were Arthur’s sensations; everything seemed so
strange. He was told that these were his rooms; he had no recollection
of ever having seen them until the morning when he opened his eyes on
the physician’s face. Even the language sounded strange to him, though
in a hazy way he knew what was meant; it was as though the sounds had
been imprinted upon the brain by some other intelligence; as a picture
is sensitized upon the plate by one artist for another artist’s use. The
business so often mentioned to him, seemed like a hazy dream; something
of which some other person being cognizant, had conveyed to him in a
far-off manner, an impression of his knowledge. In the same way he knew
that he was expected to love Edith; but there was a vague, elusive
intuition of some actual affinity, a feeling which he could not shake
off, and by which he knew that whatever of feeling he possessed for
Edith was as the shadow to the real. This hazy something, which was not
knowledge, nor yet a dream, strained his mental capacity in a vain
effort after solution. He restlessly tried to gather up the threads of
that which seemed to him a new life.
As Gus was vice-president of the bank everything went on smoothly; but
he felt greatly annoyed at Arthur’s complete indifference when he wished
to consult with him upon important business:
“You just manage everything, Gus, until I feel more like business.”
“You will have to pull yourself together, old man;” answered Gus,
regarding him with troubled gaze.
No sooner had Gus left the room than all signs of languidness
disappeared; he muttered angrily to himself; he paced up and down the
floor; he tore the books from the shelves in frantic desire for
something which would enlighten him on these things which seemed so hazy
and bewildering; he threw the book he was holding from him in an excess
of rage. Letters and words had a strangely familiar look, and yet—the
mental strain was fearful—it was like hunting for faces whose lineaments
were long since forgotten; like trying to decipher a faded picture
imprinted in dim ink by some person unknown; and feeling, withal, that a
perfect understanding of the dim lights and shadows was expected.