LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume II, Issue 158, 7 December 1874, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE SNOW- SHRIEK: A Tale ok the Prairies, (From Chambers's Journal.) ( Concluded .) Then followed a scene of indescribable excitement and confusion, in which, thanks to God and man for this timely rescue were freely uttered by those who now saw themselves restored to the living world. But Metella, who bad seen nothing save Alberic’s face in all that mingled group), was overpowered by the rush of her emotions, and was sinking senseless on the floor, when the young man spmang forward and caught her, fainting, in his strong arms. When she recovered from the swoon, her piarents were with her ; and near the sofa on which they had laid her, stood the old hunter, Hiram Pell. There was food on a table near, for the rescuers had not come empty-handed; but Miss Stewart had forgotten her hunger, forgotten all, save that she had seen Alberic again for one brief moment of happiness. She drank in, thirstily, however, the words of the old backwoodsman. ‘ Thank him, colonel—Mr Parnell, I mean —not me, for true as Gospel, ’tis to him you owe your lives. Talk of grit! I thought I knew what bravery was, but never the like of that young chap’s. He shamed us into sticking to it, squire, fighting every inch of the way, against cold and fatigue, and working more like a young giant that than a mere man. Says Mr Alberic, when there was talk of giving in : ‘Let who will flinch, and leave helpless women to perish ; I go on alone, and whoever deserts me at this pinch, never let him hold up his head among honest men. Every dollar I’m worth shall be divided among those that help) me.’ And he, and I, and the rest of the Troy neighbours, we did make a good job of it, sprite of frost-bite and heating snow : hut it was no sport, colonel, I can tell you that. ’ Mrs Stewart, who had left the room during this speech, now came gliding back to her daughter’s side. ‘Are you well enough, Metella, dear, to speak with Caryl for a moment ? ’ she said, smiling through her tears, ‘He is very urgent to say a word to you. He says it is for the last time. ’ And almost before Metella had leisure to realise the meaning of tbese words, Caryl Winthrop deathly pale, but with a sweet, sad smile upon his face, such as angels might wear, stood beside her couch. She started up, and then, with a guilty blush, put her hands before her eyes. ‘ 0 Caryl, do not blame me !’ she said. ‘ Indeed, indeed, I’ll be a true wife to you. ’ ‘ Not to me, dear Miss Stewart,’ answered he softly. ‘ltis as a brother, darling, not as a lover, that you have regarded me all along, and now I release you, fullyjand freely from a priight, the keepriug of which would be misery to you. lam not selfish enough to hold you to your promise, dear girl. Let your hand go, along with your heart, to your preserver, to Alberic Parnell.’ He was very white and haggard as he sp>oke, but he never once faltered in bis address ; and before Metella could frame her reply, Mrs Stewart had walked to the door, and returned, accompanied by Alberic. ‘This young gentlemen,’ she said, half reproachfully, ‘was just about to slip away from us and our acknowledgements of bis courage and his kindness. He could not trust himself, forsooth, to meet you again, Metella. Even now, I see by his puzzled look, that he hardly can guess the solution of the enigma. ’ ‘ This will explain all!’ said Caryl, as, to Alberic’s amazement, he took the _ young man’s muscular hand and priaced it in that of Metella. ‘Be hapipiy, sister, with the husband of your choice. After the innocent confession that, when Death seemed to have us in his icy clutch, you made to me, I should commit a sin did I come between you two—between you and the man who, when on his road to New York and Europe, turned back at the bare rumor of this fearful snow-storm and risked life and' health to save the girl he loved.’ Metella could not speak. Clinging to Alberic, as a graceful vine to some towering oak of the forest, she hid her face upon hia shoulder, and sobbed aloud. In the timid, trustful rapture of that moment, she scarcely realised that every word which Caryl had spoken had been as a stab to tho bosom of the speaker ; that his generous self-sacrifice cost him very dearly, when a sudden outcry of voices snatched both of the lovers from their dream of new-found happiness. Poor Caryl Winthrop had sunk helpless on the floor, and was being lifted by Colonel Stewart and the old hunter, who placed him on the sofa where Miss Stewart had so lately reclined. ‘ He has fainted,’ said kind, motherly Mrs Stewart, as she laid his head upon tho pillow, ‘More than that, I guess. He’s goinjj home, if ever I saw death in a face! muttered the rough backwoodsman. Caryl, who had partially regained his senses, had no illusions on the subject. ‘Do not wee]) for me, darling,’ he said, as Meaella’s tears bedewed his face, and the girl bent over him in tender sorrow. * The stroke has fallen; but it is in mercy. ’ He pressed his feeble hand to his heart, and the conviction Hashed on all present, that the insidious malady from which he had believed himself to he cured, aggravated by Hardship and the cruel emotions of the last hour, was reclaiming its prey. ‘ Kiss me once, sister,’ he said softly; and Metella pressed her lips upon his brow, on which tho damps of death were gathering. The young peoprie were kneeling beside him. All surrounded him. He looked np>, smiling, and his lips moved, but no sound came; and then a spasm of pain contracted his features, and the heavy head fell back. He was dead. It is scarcely needful to say that, some six months later than the date of these events, Alberic Parnell and Metella Stewart were married. Their experience of wedded life has been a happy and prosperous one: but whenever the wind wails shrilly around the gables, and the white (lakes come driving in heavy showers from the desert country beyond the frontier to the north-west, the sound and the sight combine to evoke the recollection of Caryl’s early grave, and of the unselfish sacrifice which was the last act of hia blameless life.