The next day, the 13th of April, the Doctor’s programme announced a
visit to the Canadian shore. We had only to follow the heights of the
bank of the Niagara for two miles to reach the suspension bridge. We
started at seven o’clock in the morning. From the winding path on the
right bank we could see the tranquil waters of the river, which no
longer felt the perturbation of its fall.
At half-past seven we reached the suspension bridge. It is the bridge,
on which the Great Western and New York Central Railroads meet, and the
only one which gives access to Canada on the confines of the State of
New York. This suspension bridge is formed of two platforms; the upper
one for trains, and the lower for carriages and pedestrians. Imagination
seems to lose itself in contemplating this stupendous work. This
viaduct, over which trains can pass, suspended at a height of two
hundred and fifty feet above the Niagara, again transformed into a rapid
at this spot. This suspension bridge, built by John A. Roebling, of
Trenton (New Jersey), is eight hundred feet long, and twenty-four wide;
the iron props fastened to the shore prevent it from swinging; the
chains which support it, formed of four thousand wires, are ten inches
in diameter, and can bear a weight of twelve thousand four hundred tons.
The bridge itself weighs but eight hundred tons, and cost five hundred
thousand dollars. Just as we reached the centre a train passed over our
heads, and we felt the platform bend under its weight.
It is a little below this bridge that Blondin crossed the Niagara, on a
rope stretched from one shore to the other, and not, as is generally
supposed, across the falls. However, the undertaking was none the less
perilous; but if Blondin astonished us by his daring, what must we think
of his friend who accompanied him, riding on his back during this aerial
promenade?
“Perhaps he was a glutton,” said the Doctor, “and Blondin made wonderful
omelets on his tight-rope.”
We were now on Canadian ground, and we walked up the left bank of the
Niagara, in order to see the Falls under a new aspect. Half an hour
later we reached the English hotel, where the Doctor ordered our
breakfast, whilst I glanced through the “Travellers’ Book,” where
figured several thousand names: among the most celebrated I noticed the
following:—Robert Peel, Lady Franklin, Comte de Paris, Duc de Chartres,
Prince de Joinville, Louis Napoleon (1846), Prince and Princess
Napoleon, Barnum (with his address), Maurice Sand (1865), Agassis
(1854), Almonte, Prince Hohenlohe, Rothschild, Bertin (Paris), Lady
Elgin, Burkhardt (1832), &c.
“And now let us go under the Falls,” said the Doctor to me, when we had
finished breakfast.
I followed Dean Pitferge. A negro conducted us to the dressing-room,
where we were provided with waterproof trousers, macintoshes, and glazed
hats. Thus equipped, our guide led us down a slippery path, obstructed
by sharp-edged stones, to the lower level of the Niagara. Then we passed
behind the great fall through clouds of spray, the cataract falling
before us like the curtain of a theatre before the actors. But what a
theatre! Soaked, blinded, deafened, we could neither see nor hear in
this cavern as hermetically closed by the liquid sheets of the cataract
as though Nature had sealed it in by a wall of granite.
[Illustration: THE CATARACT FALLING BEFORE US.]
At nine o’clock we returned to the hotel, where they relieved us of our
streaming clothes. Going back again to the bank, I uttered a cry of
surprise and joy,—
“Captain Corsican!”
The Captain heard, and came towards me.
“You here!” he cried; “what a pleasure to see you again!”
“And Fabian? and Ellen?” I asked, shaking both his hands.
“They are here, and going on as well as possible; Fabian full of hope,
almost merry; and our poor Ellen little by little regaining reason.”
“But how is it that I meet you at the Niagara?”
“The Niagara,” repeated Corsican. “Well, it is the principal resort of
English and Americans in the warm months. They come here to breathe, to
be cured by the sublime spectacle of the Falls. Our Ellen seemed to be
struck at first sight by this glorious scenery, and we have come to stay
on the banks of the Niagara. You see that villa, ‘Clifton House,’ in the
midst of those trees, half way up the hill; that is where we all live,
with Mrs. R——, Fabian’s sister, who is devoted to our poor friend.”
“Has Ellen recognized Fabian?” I asked.
“No, not yet,” replied the Captain. “You are aware, however, that at the
moment when Drake was struck dead, Ellen had a brief interval of
consciousness. Her reason became clear in the gloom which surrounded
her, but this did not last long. At the same time, since we brought her
to breathe this fresh air in this quiet place, the doctor has discovered
a sensible improvement in her condition. She is calm, her sleep is
tranquil, but there is a look in her eyes as though she were trying to
think of something past or present.”
“Ah, my dear friend!” cried I, “you will cure her; but where are Fabian
and his betrothed?”
“Look!” said Corsican, and he pointed towards the shore of the Niagara.
In the direction indicated by the Captain I saw Fabian, who had not yet
noticed us. He was standing on a rock, and a few feet in front of him
sat Ellen perfectly motionless, Fabian watching her all the time. This
spot on the left bank is known by the name of “Table Rock.” It is a kind
of rocky promontory jutting out into the river, which roars at a
distance of four hundred feet below. Formerly it was more extensive, but
the crumbling away of large pieces of rock has now reduced it to a
surface a few yards square.
Ellen seemed absorbed in speechless ecstasy. From this place the aspect
of the Falls is “most sublime,” as say the guides, and they are right.
It gives a view of two cataracts; on the right the “Canadian Fall,” the
crest of which, crowned with vapours, shuts in the horizon on one side,
like the horizon of the sea. In front is the “American Fall,” and above,
the elegant village of Niagara Falls, half hidden in the trees; on the
left, the whole perspective of the river flowing rapidly between its
high banks, and below the torrent struggling against the overthrown
icebergs.
Corsican, the Doctor, and I went towards Table Rock, but I did not want
to disturb Fabian. Ellen was as motionless as a statue. What impression
was this scene making on her mind? Was reason gradually coming back to
her under the influence of the grand spectacle? Suddenly I saw Fabian
step towards her. Ellen had risen quickly, and was going near to the
abyss, with her arms extended towards the gulf; but all at once she
stopped, and passed her hand rapidly across her forehead, as if she
would drive away some thought. Fabian, pale as death, but
self-possessed, with one bound placed himself between Ellen and the
chasm; the latter shook back her fair hair, and her graceful figure
staggered. Did she see Fabian? No. One would have said it was a dead
person coming back to being, and looking round for life!
Captain Corsican and I dared not move, although, being so near the
abyss, we dreaded some catastrophe; but the Doctor kept us back.
“Let Fabian alone,” said he.
I heard the sobs which escaped from the young woman’s heaving breast,
the inarticulate words which came from her lips; she seemed as though
she were trying to speak, but could not. At last she uttered these
words:—
“My God! my God! where am I, where am I?”
She was conscious that some one was near her, for she half turned round,
and her whole face seemed transfigured. There was a new light in her
eyes, as she saw Fabian, trembling and speechless, standing before her
with outstretched arms.
[Illustration: “FABIAN! FABIAN!” CRIED SHE, “AT LAST.”]
“Fabian! Fabian!” cried she, at last.
Fabian caught her in his arms, where she fell in an unconscious state.
He uttered a piercing cry, thinking that Ellen was dead, but the Doctor
interposed.
“Don’t be alarmed,” said he; “this crisis, on the contrary, will be the
means of saving her!”
Ellen was carried to Clifton House and put to bed, where she recovered
consciousness and slept peacefully.
Fabian, encouraged by the Doctor, was full of hope. Ellen had recognized
him! Coming back to us, he said to me,—
“We shall save her, we shall save her! Every day I watch her coming back
to life. To-day, to-morrow, perhaps she will be restored to me. Ah! the
just God be praised! We will stay here as long as it is necessary for
her, shall we not, Archibald?”
The Captain clasped Fabian in his arms; then the latter turned to the
Doctor and me. He loaded us with thanks, and inspired us with the hope
which filled his breast, and never was there better reason for
hope—Ellen’s recovery was near at hand.
But we must be starting, and there was hardly an hour for us to reach
Niagara Falls. Ellen was still sleeping when we left our dear friends.
Fabian and Corsican bid us a last farewell, after having promised we
should have news of Ellen by telegram, and at noon we left Clifton
House.