SAVED AS BY A MIRACLE.
But where all this while was Frank? Had he really fallen a victim to
the murderous designs of his treacherous guardian? My readers have been
kept too long in suspense as to his fate.
At the moment of falling he was fully conscious, but too late, of his
companion's treachery. In that terrible moment there flashed upon him
a full knowledge of the plot of which he was a victim, and he had time
to connect with it his step-father as the prime author and instigator
of the deed. It was indeed a terrible experience. In the full flush of
youthful life and strength the gates of death swung open before him,
and he gave himself up for lost, resigning himself to his fearful fate
as well as he could.
But there was one thought of anguish--his mother! How would she grieve
over his untimely death! And the wretch who had instigated his murder,
would he stop short, content, or would he next assail her?
In times of danger the mind acts quickly. All these thoughts passed
through the mind of our hero as he fell, but all at once there was
a violent shock. He had stopped falling, yet he was not dead, only
stunned. There was a ledge part way down, a hollow filled with soft
snow--making a natural bed, and it was upon this that he had fallen.
Yet, soft as it was, the shock was sufficient to deprive him of
consciousness.
When he became sensible of surrounding objects--that is, when his
consciousness returned--he looked about him in bewilderment.
Where was he?
Not surely on the ledge, for, looking around him, he saw the walls of a
small and humble apartment, scantily provided with needful furniture.
He was lying upon a bed, a poor wooden bedstead. There was another
person in the room--a woman, so humbly attired that he knew she was a
Swiss peasant.
"Where am I?" he asked, bewildered.
The woman turned quickly, and her homely, sun-browned face glowed with
pleasure.
"You are awake, monsieur?" she said, in the French language.
I have already said that Frank was a French scholar, and could
understand the language to a limited extent, as well as speak it
somewhat. He understood her, and answered in French:
"Yes, madame, I am awake. Will you kindly tell me where I am?"
"You met with an accident, monsieur. My husband and my brother were
upon the mountain, and found you on a ledge covered with snow."
"I remember," said Frank, shuddering. "When was that?"
"Yesterday. You have slept since then. How do you feel?"
"I feel sore and bruised. Are any of my limbs broken?"
He moved his arms and legs, but, to his great joy, ascertained that
though sore, no bones were broken.
"It was a wonderful escape," said the woman. "You must have fallen from
the cliff above."
"I did."
"But for falling on the ledge, you would have been killed."
"Yes," answered Frank, "but Heaven be thanked, I have escaped."
"How did you fall?" asked the woman. "That was what my husband and my
brother, Antoine, could not understand. You must have been leaning
over."
Frank paused.
"I cannot tell you now," he answered. "Perhaps I will soon."
"When you please, monsieur, but you must be hungry."
"I am indeed hungry, madame. I suppose it is more than twenty-four
hours since I have tasted anything."
"Poor boy!" said the woman, compassionately. "I will at once get you
something to eat. We are poor people, monsieur, and you may not like
our plain fare."
"Don't speak of it, madame. You are only too kind to me. I can eat
anything."
Frank had only spoken the truth. He was almost famished; and when
the food was set before him, plain as it was, he ate with eager
satisfaction, to the evident pleasure of his kindly hostess. But in
sitting up, he realized by the soreness of his limbs and the aching of
his back, that though no bones were broken, he was far from being in
a condition to get up. It was with a feeling of relief that he sank
back upon the bed, and with listless eyes watched the movements of his
hostess. He was not equal to the exertion of forming plans for the
future.