THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER.
Sudden as a thunderbolt from a clear sky was the change that came over
the gay party of skaters and the applauding spectators as they echoed
the loud, horrified shriek of Viola crashing through the thin ice and
disappearing into the depths of the river below.
The faces but a moment ago so gay and laughing, paled with grief and
terror, and a terrible panic arose, all the skaters pressing forward
toward the hole in the ice, the crowd on the shore also venturing out
pell-mell, till the crystal sheet began to tremble with their heavy
weight. Some fell down, and were trampled in the mad rush of others,
and a dreadful loss of life seemed imminent, when all at once there
rang out, high over every other sound, a loud, thrilling, masculine
voice, crying authoritatively:
“Go back, all of you! Do you not feel the ice trembling? Directly it
will break with your weight, and hundreds be drowned! Be warned, and
return to the shore, leaving only such men as will assist in saving the
young lady!”
The exodus for the shore began as suddenly as it had rushed the other
way just now, reason being excited in the startled mass of surging
people. And they were none too quick, for the ice began to crack
ominously before it was cleared of all save Professor Desha and a few
other men, foremost among them the tall stranger whose voice of command
had driven back the terror-stricken mob.
This man had evidently been simply a spectator, for he wore no skates,
but he was rapidly sliding toward the scene of the accident, and
following him at some distance was Desha, whose speed had been greatly
retarded by the hysterical clinging of his partner, Miss Hyer, whom he
could not shake off till he thrust her into the hands of another man,
crying, as he darted away:
“For God’s sake, take care of her! I must save Miss Van Lew!”
Heaven alone knew the frenzy of his thoughts as he skated swiftly
toward the middle of the river, reckless of aught save that he should
save Viola from drowning.
But the stranger who had routed the crowd was before him. He threw off
his coat and dropped down flat on the broken ice, peering carefully
down into the water.
The next minute he dived over the ragged, splintered edge, and
disappeared from view, while the sight of such gallant daring evoked a
swelling cry of admiration from the shore, men cheering to the echo,
women and children bursting into tears, for there seemed little chance
of either life being saved from the deadly current beneath the ice.
Questions ran from lip to lip.
“Who is the splendid fellow, anyway?”
But no one could answer that question.
Every one knew directly who the girl was--Miss Van Lew, the beautiful
heiress, daughter of the chief of an important bureau--but no one there
had ever seen the young hero before.
He was handsome as a king, fine, and soldierly looking, with a ringing
voice of command; but not a soul knew his name, though many a silent
prayer went up that he might be saved, together with the beautiful girl
for whom he had risked his life.
Professor Desha and three others now came in for the next round of
cheers as they reached the fatal spot, and cautiously prostrated
themselves on the ice to gaze down into the depths.
They raised their voices then in shouts of joy, for the sight they saw
filled their hearts with gladness.
The icy current had not swept away the victims, as they dreaded. There
was the hero keeping himself up in the water by a terrific exercise
of skill and strength, while he supported on one arm the limp form of
Viola, whose pallid face and closed eyes looked like death.
“Courage! courage!” they cried to him, and reached eager arms to their
aid, first taking out Viola, and then her gallant rescuer, who gasped,
hoarsely:
“You were not a minute too soon. It was so freezing cold in the water I
could not have sustained myself long with such a dead weight on my arm,
and the current rushing so fast!”
“You are a hero, my dear fellow!” cried Desha, admiringly, as they set
out across the ice, bearing Viola’s limp form, fearing that death had
already claimed the beautiful creature for his own.
A physician was fortunately on the spot, and placing her in a carriage,
accompanied by Mrs. Wellford and Professor Desha, he took her home.
When others turned to do a like kindness to the gallant rescuer, he had
disappeared.
“What has become of him?” they cried; and several answered at once:
“He just beckoned a cab, jumped in, and was driven away, refusing to
answer any questions.”
And strange to say, not one in that crowd knew his name or anything
about him. He was quite strange to them all. And the reporters, in
graphically describing the affair for the evening papers, could only
refer to him as “the handsome and mysterious rescuer of Miss Van
Lew from a watery grave, the unknown hero,” etc., while earnestly
requesting him to announce himself to a curious and admiring public.
Later on Viola’s father appeared in print, thanking the unknown savior
of his daughter’s life, and begging the favor of his acquaintance; but
no reply came to any of these overtures--the man’s identity remained as
deeply hidden as if he had sunk forever under the swirling waves of the
deep river from which he had rescued Viola.
Meanwhile, our heroine being taken home and resuscitated with
difficulty from her unconscious condition, was quite ill for a week,
from the shock and wetting she had received.
She knew nothing of the stranger who had snatched her back to life
as she was sinking a second time beneath the cold waves, for she was
unconscious when he grasped her; but as she began to convalesce, and
heard from Aunt Edwina the story of her rescue, she became greatly
interested in her unknown savior.
“Oh, how stupid it was in everybody not to find out his name! I shall
never be happy till I know him and can thank him for saving my life!”
she cried, eagerly.
Wise Aunt Edwina presently began to grow uneasy over her niece’s
anxiety about the handsome unknown. She said to herself:
“Come; this will not do. If she ever finds him out she will be falling
in love with him, the silly, romantic child, and as like as not, he may
be some handsome ne’er-do-well not fit for her to speak to, so I will
disenchant her if I can.”
And the next time Viola began to dilate on her anxiety to know her
rescuer, she cleared her throat, the dear, shy old lady, and observed,
gently:
“My dear, I wouldn’t harp too much on my rescuer if I were you. I have
a shrewd suspicion why he does not disclose himself.”
“What reason could he have, dear Aunt Edwina?”
“Well, then, every one who has described him calls him tall and
dark--they always dwell particularly on the _dark_--so maybe--mind, I
only say maybe--he was one of those handsome young mulatto men.”
Viola’s eyes flashed disapprobation, and she exclaimed:
“But that is no reason he should hide himself--he was a hero all the
same. And you know papa would reward him handsomely if he would accept
it.”
“Probably he does not need it, or perhaps he is married and doesn’t
wish to make his wife jealous by letting her know he risked his life to
save a pretty young girl,” pursued Aunt Edwina, relentlessly throwing
cold water on Viola’s romance.
Viola pouted indignantly and dropped the subject, for dread of ridicule
was her weak point, as her relative well knew.
At the end of a week she received a tender love letter from Florian,
written during the days on ship-board and mailed at Queenstown. It was
so fond, and couched in such beautiful phrases, interspersed with love
poems, that it warmed Viola’s heart, that had not wandered to him often
in his absence, being distracted by her illness and thoughts of the
unknown savior of her life.
“Dear fellow, how much he loves me, and how distracted he will be
when I write him all that has happened to me since he went away!” she
thought; and not to spare him the sensation, she wrote the next day a
full account of it, not forgetting the handsome stranger, of whom she
said:
“I do so long to know him; but, after all, perhaps it is better not,
for I am so romantic I might fall in love with him and forget all about
you, you know. But that is only fun, for of course I could never care
for any one else as I do for you, dear Florian.”
She actually believed this herself, and smiled as she reread it,
thinking:
“How it will please him to read those words!”
They were the only words of love in the letter, for she had so much
news to tell, including this item:
“You will be glad to hear that I like your goody-goody friend much
better than I did when you were here. He has been very kind and
attentive, sending to inquire about me every day, and yesterday sent
beautiful flowers and a kind note, regretting so much it was not he who
had saved my life instead of a stranger, and saying he would have been
first to the rescue but for that aggravating Minnie Hyer clinging to
him in hysterics and holding him back, till he actually pushed her into
another man’s arms and escaped to assist me. You see, I am answering
your letter right away, Florian, though I am propped up with pillows
in bed; but I knew you would be anxious to hear from me and interested
in--everything.”
When this entertaining letter reached Florian at Carlsbad, where he had
found his father very low but still alive, the poor fellow was indeed
almost distracted at hearing of his sweetheart’s narrow escape from
death. He longed passionately, impatiently, to fly back to her side;
but it was impossible to desert his sorrowing mother and slowly dying
father.
“Oh, my darling, my darling, if only you would have come with me!” he
groaned, as he read and reread the dear letter, hungering for words of
tenderness of which he found so few.
It dawned on him presently that half her letter had been devoted to
Professor Desha and her unknown rescuer.
“Confound them both!” he muttered, jealously, crossing out with pencil
all the offending lines, and leaving only what referred to herself.