CHAPTER I.

Tuapeka Times, Volume III, Issue 166, 13 April 1871, Page 7

CHAPTER I.

(Continued. )

THE AUBERGE L' ROY, AND THE PASS OF

MARMONTEL.

First a flash of lightning, terrible in its intensity ; then a peal of thunder, awful in its burst, and followed by a roll which suggested the idea that the far azure cope of day had been smitten and shattered by the Divine hand, and that the fragrants were hurtling down into unfathomable space, trailing in their train a frantic multitudes of undying echoes. Then the windows of heaven were opened. No other figure than the old Hebrew one could give an adequate idea of the rush of waters, which it would be folly to call rain, that descended. To dash back into the pass, and seek the dangerous shelter of a projecting crag, was my first act. I had just accomplished this feat, and was persuading myself, and patting Darby into the belief, that we were safe for the present, when my ears were assailed by shrieks of mortal agony, fearful to hear in that solitude. Directly and swiftly in the force of their intensity, they . pierced the thunders' rapidly succeeding folds of sound. But whence came they ? Were they really human ? Steadying by an effort my surprised senses, I listened. They came immediately from overhead; they were the out-pourings of a human being in some awful extremity. I was conscious of securing my pistols ; then there followed a dim sense of struggling with the face of the rock, much in the fashion that we struggle with precipices in our dreams. How long this lasted, what difficulties I encountered and overcome, with the how I overcame them, are matters of which I can give no account. I know only that the shrieks, deepening in their intensity, pierced my ears for a length of time that seemed ages, and that finally a spectacle that froze my blood with horror burst upon my sight. It is remarkable how suddenly, in moments of great excitement, accurate observations and broad conclusions flash upon the mind. I understood the state of things at a glance. The point I had attained commanded an uninterrupted view of the whole length of the pass, but the rocky barrier at the entrance cut off the level country beyond. To remove this limitation, a tower of considerable height had been erected. I afterwards learned that fronting the pass it was built of crags, so arranged as not to be distinguishable from beneath, from the ragged face of the precipice. Onthe sides that did not face the pass a rudely fashioned dwelling-house of considerable size had been constructed. In the lower portion of this house a lar^e supply of firewcod w:is stored ; this the lightning had ignited,and now the lower portion of the tower was a fiery furnace. Onits summit stood a girl, tossing her arms into the air, that appeared in the incessant flashings of the lightning, to be also a flaming furnace, and uttering in quick succession shrieks that, to my excited imagination, seemed to glide like veins of fire amid the heavy masses of sound hurled into space bj the unintermitting thunder. I have no more knowledge of what I next did, than I have of the daily walk and conversation of the man in the moon. The first thing that I distinctly comprehended was that I was beside Darby, and holding in my arms a girl of extraordinay beauty. She was very young," said my uncle, very quietly. Perhaps he observed that little Mary Cambleford's blue eyes were romance hunting. " She was very young," he repeated, sadly, then lapsing into silence, he sat lookI ing into the fire for a long while. Resuming abruptly, he continued — " She was in a state of frantic gratitude, poor child. She hugged me in her slender arms, and blessed me with a sweet volubility. It was in vain I sought to soothe her. With a loud snort of impatience Darby intimated her presence. This simple circumstance produced a sudden change in the whole demeanour of the girl. She started from my arms, gazed on Darb y, then on me, then, with swift alterations from the one to the other ; tten uttering a scream, "wilder, so I thought, than any that had floated from the tower, she fainted. I caught her before she sank to the ground, and i bore her to a pool of water gathered in a natural basin formed in the rock. I sprinkled her face, rubbed her hands, and anxiously awaited the returri of consciousness. Meanwhile the storm ( continued to rage with unabated fury. After consciousness had returned, she lay very still for some seconds, then she opened her eyes and disengaged herself from my arms. Her manner' had undergone "a complete change. Now she was calmly beautiful, yet there was an expression of stern determination on her face terrible jx> look upon in the face of one so young. "You tarried at the Aubei'ge F Fayette last night ?" she said. This sentence was meant to convey a question; but her mariner, of putting it gave it tbe force of an assertion. " Yes," I replied. " You will tarry at the Auberge 1' Eoy to-night ?" " Yes." " Yesterday you passed a roan sead-

ing a bookj have you passed the same man to-day ?" " Yes."

" Oh," she exclaimed. Then after a second or two, during which I had in vain endeavoured to read the meaning in her stern young face, she exclaimed vehemently, "He shall not!" and as she spoke she stamped her little foot upon the rock. There was a pause of a second; then she repeated calmly, "He shall not." Then she cried impetuously, " Come, we must go." " Where would you go, child ?" I said gently. " Where are your friends ?"

" Friends !" she cried, with a touch of her former wildness of manner. " I have no friends. Come."

" But the storm," I remonstrated.

Turning her face upon me suddenly, she fixed her sad, sweet eyes on my face, and said with a strange quietness, " Does Monsieur value his life ? Has Monsieur any one to whom it is dear ?"

He were a brave man indeed who could hear, without experiencing a disagreeable sensation, these questions put as they were put. I frankly confess they made me feel uncomfortable. The young creature spoke in an intense kind of whisper, but I heard every word distinctly under the surging sea of sound overhead.

Tbe storm was now at its height. Before I could speak, " Come," she cried, seizing me by the hand, and drawing me towards Darby, reiterating all the while in the same intense whisper the word, " Come."

" Where ?" I said, resisting no longer.

"To the Auberge 1' Roy," was her quick, decisive reply.

" But why to the Auberge 1' Roy ? If there is danger I can turn back."

" If you turn back you are lost," she said, gloomily. "If you stay here longer you are lost. If you go to the Auberge 1' Roy without me you are lost. Come ; every ■ moment is precious. You have saved my life, I will save yours. Come."

In an instant I was on the back of Darby, in another the girl was before me, with my large riding cloak drawn lightly round her slender form, and in the third instant Darby was plunging down the Marmontel side of the Sumpter, unconscious of, or regardless of, the thick battalions of the tempest, and in some degree a fitting symbol of the swiftness of its lightnings. In about an hour the storm passed away as suddenly as it had come. Oh the glory in the change. In the presence of the untroubled and majestic face of the sun, the poor earth laughed through all her tears. In the yellow wavy radiance and the dizzy tumult of our speed, the hills seemed to be leaping for joy. I could not induce my strange companion to look out from her seething shelter. "It is better as it is," was her reiterated reply to my frequent appeals. I was deeply moved with the tenacity with which the fragile creature clung to me. She, so young, so beautiful, so forlorn. I could have lifted up my voice and prayed for her aloud. In silence my soul prayed for her.

When the glory of the evening had faded from around us, and the valley of Marmontel, filled with dusky shadows, lay before us, the Auberge 1' Roy beins: dimly visible in its depths, the folds of my cloak were put cautiously aside.

" Stop," whispered my companion. " Can you see any one ?" she continued still in a whisper.

We had halted at a spot where, on the right hand side of the road, lay a huge pile of shattered crags.

After a careful survey of these, and of everything and everywhere around, as far as the rapidly deepening gloom permitted, I answered, " No."

"It is well ; follow me," she said

Before I was aware of her intention, she glided from my arms, reached the ground, and vanished among the crags. I followed. It was now comparatively dark. I searched for her everywhere, but without success. My heart was very sad. I was about to leave the pile, determined to return when the moon had arisen, and to renew the search, with whatever assistance the Auberge could afford. I was passing a jutting rock when a voice — I knew it to be her voice, and so near me did the speaker seem to be, that I instinctively stretched forth my hands to reach her — said, " Make no effort to find me. Mention to no one that you have seen me. Say nothing of the fire at the towsr, or you will deprive me of the power to serve you. Take this bracelet, and if you meet with a man that has its companion, obey him in all things, and you are saved. Our God will watch over you, Monsieur. If we meet no more, pray for me "

As she ceased from speaking the bracelet dropped at my feet. I placed it in my bosom, and clambered up the rock, but the- speaker was gone. After a .moment's reflection T resolved to desist from a search that I foresaw would be fruitless, but might in some way injure the being I wished to serve, and to wait on events ; so returning to the road and remounting Dai'by, I pursued my way to the Auberge 1' Roy in a most uncomfortable frame of mind.

(To be continued.)