Meanwhile Cinthia’s fall and shriek had been heard by other alert
ears--no less than Arthur Varian’s, who had been waiting impatiently
in the shadow of the trees for ten minutes, wondering whether Cinthia
would come or not, fearing lest the fury of the storm should daunt her
courage and hold her back.
With his eager eyes on her window, he presently saw the sash fly up and
Cinthia’s beautiful face and form outlined against the background of
the lighted room. The next moment the gale blew in and extinguished the
lamp and darkened the beautiful picture.
But in that moment he saw enough to relieve his fears. Cinthia wore
her hat and jacket ready for traveling. She was coming to him, his
brave little darling, and out yonder waited a swift horse and sleigh,
and plenty of cozy buffalo robes to shelter her from the cold in their
swift drive to the station.
He advanced to the gate and stood with his eyes fixed on the door,
eager to give her a joyous welcome when she appeared, lest the thick
darkness frighten her back.
Then his ears caught the soft thud on the top of the porch, and, like
Mrs. Flint, he thought at first it might be snow sliding off the roof.
The wind arose with a great bang and clatter among the loose shutters,
deadening the sound of the branches as Cinthia swung herself off
the vine and began her descent to the ground, while her eager lover
strained his eyes through the thick darkness, watching the door to see
her come.
Then suddenly the wind lulled so that he could catch his breath, and he
heard a soft rustling in the vines, as if they strained under a dead
weight.
“Heavens! what is that?” he muttered, with a half suspicion of the
truth; and, tearing open the gate, he rushed across the yard through
the wet, impeding snow, already half a foot deep, to the corner of the
house just as Cinthia shrieked and fell into the little bank of drifted
snow so soft and cold.
With a bound, Arthur was by her side, stretching out eager hands,
crying, in a passion of love and grief:
“Cinthia, dearest, are you hurt?”
He reached down and gathered her up like a child in his strong arms.
“Oh, my love--my treasure! What a terrible risk you ran for me! Tell me
if you are hurt!”
She whispered nervously against his breast:
“I don’t think I am, only frightened almost to death. I
thought--thought--every bone--would be broken--but the snow was as
soft as a feather bed! Oh, let us get away, Arthur, before they hear
us! You may carry me if you will--I am trembling _so_,” her teeth
chattering so that she could scarcely speak.
“That’s what I meant to do,” Arthur replied, managing to find her face
somehow in the darkness and imprint a kiss upon it ere he strode away
with her to the sleigh, and tucked her in among the robes so that not a
breath of cold could reach her, while he kept up her courage with the
tenderest words, assuring her that she should never repent trusting
herself to him.
“Oh, how dark it is! How shall you find your way along the dark country
road?” she cried in alarm.
“Don’t you see my sleigh-lamps? Besides, I know the road well. I shall
have to drive slowly, but that will not matter, as there is no one in
pursuit, and the train is not due till one o’clock,” returned Arthur,
confidently, as he seated himself, took the reins, and chirruped to his
fleet pony.
Cinthia snuggled up to his side, and sobbed and laughed hysterically
till he almost exhausted the whole vocabulary of love-words before she
said:
“Oh, Arthur, I must tell you why I fell, and you will not call me your
brave little heroine any more, but only the greatest coward in the
world!”
And the wicked young elopers, flying through the storm and darkness
of night toward the happy haven of marriage, laughed together till
they almost forgot their surroundings at Cinthia’s sudden fear, while
vowing but a moment before to fly to Arthur though the whole world
oppose.
“To be frightened at the thought of a rat--not _at_ a rat, but just the
bare thought of touching one lurking in the vines--was it not utterly
ridiculous?” she queried, though not at all sure but that she would do
the same thing again.
Arthur could only laugh at her confession, and rejoice that she had
sustained no hurt from her fall, so they sped along through the night
and storm, each very, very happy in their youthful love, and confident
of forgiveness from the obdurate father when he should learn that they
were married.
“We shall be in Washington by breakfast-time to-morrow, and we’ll go at
once to a minister and have the ceremony over. Then we will telegraph
your father and my mother that we are one, and that we shall spend our
honey-moon North,” said the young man, planning everything happily
without a thought of failure.
“Papa will be simply furious!” laughed Cinthia; “but he can not take me
away from you and send me off to school, thank Heaven, as he proposed
to do. And as for his forgiveness, I feel quite indifferent to it. I
don’t care if I never see his face again. But your mother--what will
she say, Arthur? Perhaps she preferred for you to marry some beautiful
rich girl?” anxiously.
Arthur squeezed her to his side with one free arm, as he replied, gayly:
“Don’t worry over that, love, for my mother was so charmed with your
beauty and sweetness last night, that I felt sure she would be glad to
have you for a daughter, so I made bold to propose to you on the way
to your house, and told her all about it at breakfast this morning.
Dear heart, she has never crossed a wish of mine since I was born,
and she said I had taken her by surprise, but she would give me her
blessing, and did not care how soon we set the wedding-day, it would be
so pleasant to have a young girl in the house. Was she not a darling?
So when I came to ask for your hand this morning, and your father
snubbed me so cruelly, I did not have the heart to go back to her then,
for I feared she might not countenance an elopement, the Varians are
so proud. I stayed away, making arrangements for our flitting, and
sent her a note that I had gone off on a sudden trip, and would wire
particulars. But, bless you, she will be all right when she hears we
are married, though she will never forgive your father for crossing the
will of her spoiled boy.”
Laughing and chatting happily in the joy of being together they drove
along very slowly, for fear of an accident, and because Arthur thought
they had plenty of time to reach the station.
But suddenly and most inexplicably, the gentle little pony began to
balk, starting backward so quickly as to almost throw the occupants out
of the sleigh.
At the same time it began to neigh in a frightened way, requiring all
of Arthur’s skill to reassure it.
Trembling violently and neighing distressfully, it stood still in the
road, refusing to budge forward an inch.
“He is frightened, poor fellow, at some little obstruction in the road.
I had better get out and remove it,” said Arthur, giving Cinthia the
reins, and springing out into the snow.
Giving the trembling pony a reassuring pat and word, he passed him and
went on to examine the road.
Cinthia heard him cry out in alarm and wonder as he stooped down.
“Oh, what is it?” she exclaimed, curiously.
“Cinthia, there is a human being lying here unconscious in the snow--a
woman!”
“Oh, heavens!”
“What shall we do?” continued Arthur, distressfully.
“Oh, Arthur, we must take her into the sleigh with us and carry her to
the station! Oh, how terrible to fall down unconscious in the snow on
such a wild night!” cried Cinthia, beginning to sob with sympathy, the
cold air turning the tears into pearls upon her cheeks.
Without more ado, Arthur dragged the inert form up out of the snow,
and staggering under the heavy weight of a large, unconscious woman,
managed to deposit his burden in the bottom of the sleigh, after which
he got in himself, saying, as he took up the reins:
“I am sorry this happened, because it will draw upon us undesirable
notoriety at the station; but it can not be helped now, and I must
hasten on, for I have driven so slowly that we have not much time to
spare.”
But just as they started off, he caught the sudden sound of sleigh
bells and the neigh of a horse quickly gaining on them, as a loud,
angry voice thundered:
“Halt, or I fire! Choose death or instant surrender!”