MAGGIE, OR A CHRISTMAS TRAGEDY. BY VIVIAN TRENTE. (Written for The Waikato Times.)

Waikato Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2258, 27 December 1886, Page 3

MAGGIE, OR A CHRISTMAS TRAGEDY. BY VIVIAN TRENTE. (Written for The Waikato Times.)

It was the 23rd of December, many a long, year ago, though, us 1 look back to-night, every tiling seems as fresh and \i\ id as tho scenes of yesterday. I remember how wildly the wind huwied and wmsded ariu sobbed by turns, how the dieaiy sleet, dnfted along, making everything appeal dull, .»nd monotonous, and last, buc not least, the staking contrast which the desolation outside presented to the interior ot tluj bright, cheery hum-house near the then smalltown of Aslnille, We-steru Virginia, where I was spending my Christmas lu»lidays with a couple of my college " chums,' Will and Ernest Herbert. They weie such a kind, genial-natured tamily. Then were Mr and Mrs, Herbeit, who were proud of their children as any fond parents could* be. Their eldest son Staunton, who wa» the most reserved and quiet of the group. Then came Will and Earnest, aged sixtee.. and fourteen, respectively, and last of all Maggie, the pet and thedarhng of everyone at home and abroad, A universal favourite with everybody in the place, old and young. Maggie, with hei petite form and rounded dimpled face, her sjhort, fair, curls and her azure eyes, always full' of fun and mischief, but there — the reader will begin to fancy I am still the impressionable boy of 27 years ago instead of the worldly wise sinner who reigns as undisputed mouarch ot this dingy untidy domicle called by eoiutesy an office.— Be this as it may, at the tune of which I write I wa» the truest, conhdante and companion of these Herbeit boys, more paiticularly Will —and now ha\ ing been in their home just a week — was desperately in love with the most provoking ot of little teases Maggie. Her brothers petted and tormeiited her by turns, but she managed to hold her own and invariably gained her way m the end. —Sometimes. I used to try to imbue her with a little of the .sentimental feelings from which I suffered myeelf. but an impatient "Now Fred don't be a goo.se " or "I really must be going' would damp my youthful ardour considerably. One day will let me into the grand secret. Maggie was already engaged to a more favoured admirer, who was coming to spend the Christmas at the farmhouse. His name she told me was HanyThorne, and he was the son of an old friend and neigh bour of the Herberts, who had sold out and gone to California leaving the youth in question to fulfil the position of clerk in his uncle's office. He was now twenty one, whilst Maggie was ju&t eighteen. — "Tweqty one" I groaned— "he might as well be thirty — of course she just thinks me a boy. " My pleasant holiday seemed quite spoiled; but this mood did not lastjlong and I soon joined in the games as usual. However, I was most courteous to Maggie and played no more tricks upon her as I had hitherto -done— but notwithstanding she certainly played a woful number on me, as well as on her brothers, but she seemed to have no confidences with anyone but Staunton, and to him she would talk contentedly for an hour at a time, sitting sometimes beside him and sometimes on hib knee— when she gave one the impression ot a doll being care>sed by a giant. Will sain the Staunton and Harry were also great friends and I knew then or fancied I knew the reason she prefered Staunton to tho->e " noisy boys." Christmas Kye broke clear and cloudless though with a good sharp breeze blowing. In the afternoon Will and I set outtospenu the hours which lay between dinner and tea in a wood not far irom the farm. Erntst was busy helping in tha .stable Staunton had set out with the dog-cart to meet Harry at the station which was some distance away, and Mr Herbert and Maggie were deep in mysteries of somt c>i iking operation. So we thus beguiled our time. In our traxels Will was in the middle ot some interesting story, when he broke oti suddenly, with " Christopher Columbus ! what a snake !" I was a town boy, and therefore felt great appreciation of the cool manner in which he picked up a stout stick from the ground and proceeded by a few well directed blow* to destroy the leptile, which, he infonr.eu me, was "a stunner." Then he told me about several snake adventures, and we left the monster lying in the grass, until later, on our return home, Will exclaimed, his face aglow with a new idea — " I say, Fred, we'll have a bit of fun to-night ; we'll pay Maggie out for the way Bhe's been annoying us this morning.'' " How V" I interrupted ; " I do not understand." " Well," said he, " there's nothing in creation is scared of only a snake, and she yell's like sixty if she sees one. 1 11 just put this in her room to-night, and give her a good fright ; but don't let on to Staunton, he is such a silly about her." "I'd rather you wouldn't do it, Will," I said, dubiously. "It might frighten her, and I can't see where the joke comes m." "You muff," whs the response; "It can't hurt her, and it might cure her of being so timid. She'd do it to us in a minute, I bet." But despite all this, somehow I shuddered at the thought of the green-oyed monster lying in wait for dear little Maggie, but my persuasions were laughed to scorn by Will, who considered I had shewn myself chicken-hearted. Little— little did I dream how fervently I would afterwards thank Heaven for haying had uo share in the affair. However, Will carried home the snake which he hid away till about dark, when he stole to Maggie'^ room, wishing Ernest was with him to see the fun. (Earnest had ridden on a message to Ashville.) He toU me on his return that he had lit one of the candles on the stand in the hall about opp >- site Maggie's door, so he said, " she would be certain to see the #roat s»tarinpj eyes protruding from the coverlet of her bed." The old house was but two storyed. Maggie's room was on the ground floor. The old-fashioned windows were a perfect bower of ivy— and just outside grew a fine holly tree, just now bright with its scarlet berries. Just as Will had finished speaking, Maggie entered the room. She had dressed earlier than uoU.il, after assisting her mother and old Hannah all the day, and now she entered the parlour in a softer niood than we generally experienced, and indeed was quite condescending. Dear winsome little creature ! I look down the long vi-ta of yeirs to-night, and I see you again a-, I saw you then. Yes, again it it, Christmas Eve, although the snow of Western Virginia with its skating and sleighing of years* gone by have long been exchanged by me for the oppressive heat and languid inactivity of a New Zealand Christmas— and I am sitting alone after having finished some pressing business which has kept me employed even to-night — dreaming, dreaming, as perhaps I have not done for years, of my boyhood days and Virginia. [ can see you again, the Hush of happy expectation on your cheek, the very folds of the soft grey dress you wore, the bright berries nestling in your hair, and the fleecy shawl thrown carelessly over your shoulders. She camo to me and sat beside me, saying I looked tired. I begged her to sing, and she actually complied, telling me I was a "tiresome boy." I loved music — it is still a weakness of mine —and her voice was fresh and sweet. (I recollect I thought it something superb then.) I had quite forgotten the snake business till Will said, "Maggie your bedroom window is optin, and the snow is drifting in," "Stupid, why did younotteU me before V" and with a laugh she ran off. Just then Mrs Herbert and her husband went out t<> the gate to listen f«»r the sound of the dog-cart. I heard Maggie close and bolt her window, and I also heard Will, who had followed her steadily, turn the key in the lock. Then Will rushed out suddenly to the gate. There was a dead stillness immediately broke by a pjercing bhriek, and another still more terrible. I rushed to the door. Will was gone, carrying with him the key. "Maggie," ] called, "don't be frightened, the snake is dead. I am going for the key, but stay, unfasten your window." The only answer was a choking sound, and then a fall. I called again in agony. No reply. I rushed passed the group at the gate, nearly knocking- Mrs Herbert over in my haste, and at last I oveitook Will. "The key, I panted, quick ! S,ho h,aa fainted !" "Ijubbisji, Fred, she is sulking with you.' "Sbe fainted, indeed! I ran away here when I heard them coming, and " " For Heaven's sake waste no time,' 1 I cried, " and give me the key." He obeyed, and also ran t|apk \yith nic, and I saw he began fq feel rather alarmed. 'T^en close upon us camo the dogcart with its two muffled occupants, and there wero enquiries for Magpie. W'M mac^ a harried confisxiou to Mr ai,d Mrs Herbert, {Md 1U lwslo we all u»b.hcd to her room. To opou

the door and strike a light was the work of an instant. Oh, merciful Father, shall I I ever huget the sight wnich met" our petri- ! fied gaze. On the bed still Jay the dead j snake, and on the floor, agonized horror depicted on evory feature, lay Maggie still t md motionless, a living snake coiled tijhtly around her white neck. The mate ot the dead t»nake had followed it home, and entered through the open window. The uonster hissed fearfully as we approached, but in a few minutes it Jay cut in pieces. 1 icnelt down beside her, and I heard Will call out tor water. "She has fainted," cried the poor fellow. Ala* ! tor his delusion. I laid my hand upon her breast. My worst fears were realised. Maggie Herbert was dead. I raihed the helpless little tonn and laid in on the bed from which they had hurled the wretched snake. Ju->fthen we heaid a step, and Hauy Thome's voice asking for Maggie. The wretched parents were petrified. Poor Will as yet stood with wild h\ed eyes' he gave me one swift glance of dnn.b .igony and fell in a dead swoon at my very tet. Then, despite Staunton's. efforts to Keep him out, Harry Thorne rushed in and flung himselt beside his sweetheart. ", Oh! my love" he moaned, "if you had just spoken once to me, but never, never, never again !" I shall not dwell long on what followed during that night. The tragic grief battles all description. Where miith had reigned supreme half-au-hour ago, was now a scene of deepest mourning. When the chimes merrily ushered in the Christmas morning, Maggie Herbert lay in a robe that liv ailed the snow, covered with snowy hot-house blossoms, and Will lay in a dangerous brain fever from which Dr Hempton said if he recovered at all he would inevitably lose his reason. He told us that the flight, as well as the suffocation produced by the snake winding itself round her had caused poor Maggie's death. Her tragic end cast ;i gloom over all the festivities of that Christmas for miles around. Perhaps of all her mourners during that sad Christmas Staunton made the least show of his grief, but I knew something had gone out of his life that could never be replaced. Harry never left her side, ever calling on the dear dead lips to speak to him onee — only once. Kven when he »<iw her in the coffin he could not realise that she was gone. I have never pitied a man to much as I pitied him, as forgetting my old jealously, forgetting all save this sad calamity I clasped the hand of the fine manly-looking fellow who knelt by that silent bier in triendship and in silent sympathy. I will now draw a curtain over the gloom of that Chi istmas. Suffice it to relate that Maggie Heibert lies quietly sleeping in the litt'e churchyard of Ashville, the busy form at rest, the merry voice silent tor evermore. And of that once happy Christmas group, blighted in half an hour, but four now remain. Staunton, after some years, married happily although he has never quite recovered the shock of his sister's death. Ernest was still living as sole possessor of the old farm, when last I heard from him. As for Will, poor merry generous boy that he once was — he lingered on for two years a hopeless maniac—harmless to all but himself, ever fancying he saw the snake or felt, its fangs, ever calling upon his dear dead sister's name. Just before he died I was with him and suddenly again in his last moments came a gleam cf ianity. He called us all round him.— The family gioup, unbroken save by the absence of one. "Thank God, thank God," he cried " I am going at last ! Fred I am going to her, see even now she smiles forgiveness to me. Surely you all will forgive me when s,he does." He was instantly assured of this, and a smile lit up the wan face. " Mother,' sa,id hn, " what a trial I have been to you. But God knows, and yon know, Fred, I never meant to harm her." Here he listened attentively. "We willhave another merry Christmas—by-and-bye—with her. She calls— Maggie— like "td times. Good-bye." And the outstretched arm tell motionless on the coveilet. He was gone to Maggie and the great Unknown. Harry still li\es, a man prematurely old, and the sight of a snake drives him frantic. He went out West, but returns e\ery year to visit the spot in the Ashville chuicliyard, and each year carries away a fresh bunch of violets and snowdrops. Near by is another grave— poor Will-, and since I oatue to New Zealand, Mr and Mrs Herbert nave joined their children m another world. As for me, I am married, and old, and getting bald, but even now I cannot recall these events without a shudder. But truth is stranger than fiction, and, reader, this is no fanciful invention. However overdrawn may seem it>» gloom, it is true.