LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume V, Issue 593, 13 May 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

ONE DAY IN A SETTLER’S LIFE. ( Continued.) There was no sound of the axe. As she paused, listening intently, she could hear nothing but the dreary whistle of the bl-st through the naked trees, and the sharp,shifting sound of the snow as it smote their tronkf. u David, where is Roland ?—where is your master? Go and find him this minute !” —impatiently menacing the cowering dog in her terror. Find your msster, the - e’s a good dog,” she added, in a coaxing tone of entreaty, patting the poor animal, who stood before her with drooping head. “ Good David ! good old dog !” David went on then. In the lowest natures is sometimes enshrined the pearl of delicate feeling. This dog had bad news to tell, and shrank from telling it. He made no pretence to a light-hearted pace. He crept, halted, and seemed anxious 'to defer something. Leading the way over a freshlyfelled log, then another, and turning a thicket of young oaks, that caught at Jeuiiy’s skirts as if they would fain hold her back from a painful sight, he came to a ha’t. There was no reason why he should go farther. A tree had evidently fallen in an unlookedfor direction: or perhaps Roland Hardy had been a little reck 1 ess. It had swept him to the ground, and was lying across his legs ; as immovable, to him, as a mountain. On the rough bark, where he had been able to reach it with his knife, was cut “Dear Jen ,” showing that he had not intended to call her “ Jane on this occasion. But the fond work, which perhaps was intended as a last niomento, had ceased. His arms were lying at his sides now, and a Heck of blood stained his blue lips. Jenny thought it was the life crushed out of him; but it only came of his long and vain struggles to free himself. b’he did not scream. It was not her way. She rushed forward to fling herself against the fallen tree; pushing it, beating it, bruising her shoulders against it, like some mad woman. This was her first impulse; and it availed nothing. Then she sank down at her husband s side, wiped the red drop from his mouth, and covered his face with kisses that might have kis- cd the dead into life The kisses made Roland faintly stir, and he moved his hand instinctively towards tMe knife, which had fallen in the snow. He was wanting to finish his message. “ Roland ! Roland !” she cried in an anguished voice, seizing his benumbed hands in hers, and pressing them to her face and to her waam, throbbing throat. “ Oh, if he could only speak to me once more !” she piteously moaneL “ Only once more !” “Is it—Jenny?” came struggling faintly from his lips. “ Yes, it is Jenny. I am here ! lam here to die with you, my own blessed heart! Oil, what can 1 do ?” raising his head tenderly to her breast. “ Oh, my husband, look at me —speak to me ! Are you terribly hurt ?” But though he opened his eyes and looked at her, he could not answer. Then she remembered the wine; and, filling the tiny cup at the bottom of the flask, she held it to his mouth. Roland drank the wine with difficulty ; partly because he was only half-conscious, and partly because Jenny, in her wild solicitude, seemed bent on pit ching the whole down his throat without waiting for the little formality of swallowing. She continued to rain the tenderest expressions upon him. Over his features began stealing something that, under the depressing circumstances looked singularly like a pleased surprise. The eyes opened wider witfi a look of recognition, and a heaven of love shone up into Jenny’s terrorstricken face. He laboriously Hung his arm about her neck, and murmured her name again, as if it would express the tenderness of his whole souk “ Are you crushed to death, dear Roland?’ illogically cried Jenny. “ Not quite. But I’m so f red I 1 have been buried under this honible log these four hours.” “ Thank God you are not killed !” she aspirated. “ Tell me what I can do.”

“ Poor child,, you can do nothing. If a man Wore here with a hand-spike ” His voice ceased : ceased in very hopelssness. The nearest man was probably two miles off. And before he could be found aud brought, even if Jenny could find him, life must have gone out. “ I will do it,” said Jenny. “Tell me where I can find a handspike.” “ You could not do it, child.” “ But I. will,” she returned cheerily. I studied natural philosophy at school, and I have plenty of muscle. Did not somebody say he could move the world if—if ho had only things to do it with ; a lever, and that. I can cut down something for a lever, Roland.” She was speaking in sheer desperation But a desperate woman can put out an incredil >le amount of strength : and the stake at issue was her husband’s life. Roland saw how full of energy she looked ; what an amount of determinal ion her whole attiude betrayed. It imparted some degree of hope even to him, and he pointed to a pile of oak rails. “If you could drag one of those here ” She was flying for the rail before the words left his lips ; had brought it to the spot, and then began lo try to lift the fallen tree. But the grim burden refused to move. • “ Oh, Jenny——” “I see, Roland,” she interrupted. “ Don’t lie afraid. Of course I am stupid at first. Wait! I am undertaking to do too much at once, you perceive.” Jenny partly withdrew the lover, making the resistance less, and lifted again, with some effect. Roland’s legs were to.o much like dead legs to be aware of the lightened ' pressure upon them; but he saw the log moved a little. 1 • Stars swam before Jenny’s eyes, and flic veins on her forehead looked like little knotted cords, as, averting her face from him, she strained at the lever once more with all her whole might. “Now!” she cried. He essayed to move his half-dozen limbs, but ouly succeeded in groaning. “ They are dead as stouts,” he gasped ; and looked as though he were going off into another faint. Just for a moment she paused in despair. But courage and increased energy came back to her. “ Drink this, Roland,” she said, putting out some more of the sustaining cordial. “ I must prop up the log; and 1 think, dear, you can help me. ” Selecting a larger rail, she dragged it up, and commanded him to push it under the log while she lifted with the lever. Reviving under the influence of her cheerful courage, he saw this as his golden and perhaps only opportunity. There was no man within reach of this lonely spot, and night was coming down, bringing a tempest with it. The rail was placed ; and pushing it with all his remaining strength, he held each atom that the log yielded, while Jenny took breath again once more. Slowly and reluctantly the fallen tree was forced to acknowledge itself beaten, and at last rested on the prop. The man was free ! David got off his haunches, and wagged his tail. Roland pressed his lips to the snow-wet hem of Jenny’s skirt. The mute, eloquent act made her heart overflow, but she caught her skirt away hurriedly. ‘ ‘ I cannot allow you one minute’s delay, Roland. It will be a horrible night. Do you think you can stand ?” With her help, he got upon his feet, but not until he had made more than one attempt. The legs were not broken, then: and this took a dreadful fear from Jenny’s heart. But the returning circulation gave him intense pain. Leaning on his wife’s proffered arm, he at length began to move homewards. The stormy twilight was already filling the forest. Managing to limp and stumb’e along, the outskirts of the wood were reached before absolute darkness had set in. But until now they had not realized the terrible might of the storm. It grew worse with every minute. David alone was able to distinguish the path that led homeward. Around them appeared nothing but the whirling snow. The forest was shut out as by the sudden fall of a gigantic curtain ; before them could be discovered nothing but the wavering form of David, as he wrestled with the difficulties of the path. “We must walk for deal life!”' gisped Roland. He felt now all the hazard and terror of their position. It was almost impossible to breathe in the face of this fierce gale. If they lost the path, or the strength of either gave out, the result would be death. They stumbled on, their arms entwined, making no attempt to speak after tins. Once Jenny caught at David, patted his shoulder, and murmured that he was a good fellow, a brave dog ; but she and her husband had enough to do for themselves. It seemed to both that they must be nearly homo. Probably more than half the distance had been got over, when a calamity occurred. David di appeared. He was missing ! Had their trusty pilot deserted * them? Yes; for not a trace of him could he ‘heard or seen. Roland shouted his name ; but the wind dashed his voice back again, so that he scarcely heard it himself, and had no hope of recalling the fugitive. They were off the path now—the softer snow told them this ; and they were both very cold, and alarmingly exhausted. Roland thought that this was the end ; that all hope was over. He clasped his wife closely in his arms, aud bowed his head oh her shoulder. If he had not been half dead at the outset, with suffering and exhaustion, he would have borne np more bravely. As it was, he felt that his senses were taking leave of him ; and he knew that if he failed, and he thought he had failed, he was laying down not only his own life, but a dearer life than his. “ (!o on —leave me Try to reach ”he began saying in her ear. But Jenny would not listen to him. His despairing words filled her with frenzied strength. “ People talk that way when they are freezing,” she thought. “He shall not die. Fray, Heaven, help me! Bear up, Roland. 'Just a little while longer? We must be pretty near the house. I still know enough to keep my face to the wind. ” “I cannot go on further, Jenny, I must lie down and sleep.” “ Never!” answered poor Jenny. We will not give up. It is oxdy frozen people who want to sleep. Oh, Father of all mercy help us ! If we may only reach onr sweet, sweet home once more ! If I may ouly have strength to save my dear heart ! to make him know how I love him above everything in the world.” (To be continued)