Eve's star alone--no envious tell-tale she-- Gazes unblamed, from far across the sea.

Hark! distant voices, that lightly Ripple the silence deep!

No; the swans that, circling nightly, Through the silver waters sweep.

Around me wavers an harmonious flow; The fountain's fall swells in delicious rushes; The flower beneath the west wind's kiss bends low; A trembling joy from each to all outgushes.

Grape-cl.u.s.ters beckon; peaches luring glow, Behind dark leaves hiding their crimson blushes; The winds, cooled with the sighs of flowers asleep, Light waves of odour o'er my forehead sweep.

Hear I not echoing footfalls, Hither along the pleached walk?

No; the over-ripened fruit falls Heavy-swollen, from off its stalk.

Dull is the eye of day that flamed so bright; In gentle death, its colours all are dim; Unfolding fearless in the fair half light, The flower-cups ope, that all day closed their brim; Calm lifts the moon her clear face on the night; Dissolved in ma.s.ses faint, Earth's features swim; Each grace withdraws the soft relaxing zone-- Beauty unrobed shines full on me alone.

See I not, there, a white shimmer?-- Something with pale silken shine?

No; it is the column's glimmer, 'Gainst the gloomy hedge of pine.

O longing heart! no more thyself delight With shadow-forms--a sweet deceiving pleasure; Filling thy arms but as the vault of night Infoldeth darkness without hope or measure.

O lead the living beauty to my sight, That living love her loveliness may treasure!

Let but her shadow fall across my eyes, And straight my dreams exulting truths will rise!

And soft as, when, purple and golden, The clouds of the evening descend, So had she drawn nigh unbeholden, And wakened with kisses her friend."

Never had song a stranger accompaniment than this song; for the air was full of fierce noises near and afar. Again the colonel went to the window. When he drew back the curtains, at Adela's request, and pulled up the blind, you might have fancied the dark wind full of snowy Banshees, fleeting and flickering by, and uttering strange ghostly cries of warning. The friends crowded into the bay-window, and stared out into the night with a kind of happy awe. They pressed their brows against the panes, in the vain hope of seeing where there was no light. Every now and then the wind would rush up against the window in fierce attack, as if the creatures that rode by upon the blast had seen the row of white faces, and it angered them to be thus stared at, and they rode their airy steeds full tilt against the thin rampart of gla.s.s that protected the human weaklings from becoming the spoil of their terrors.

While every one was silent with the intensity of this outlook, and with the awe of such an uproar of wild things without souls, there came a loud knock at the door, which was close to the window where they stood.

Even the old colonel, whose nerves were as hard as piano-wires, started back and cried "G.o.d bless me!" The doctor, too, started, and began mechanically to b.u.t.ton his coat, but said nothing. Adela gave a little suppressed scream, and ashamed of the weakness, crept away to her sofa-corner.

The servant entered, saying that Dr. Armstrong's man wanted to see him.

Harry went into the pa.s.sage, which was just outside the drawing-room, and the company overheard the following conversation, every word.

"Well, William?"

"There's a man come after you from Cropstone Farm, sir. His missus is took sudden."

"What?--It's not the old lady then? It's the young mistress?"

"Yes; she's in labour, sir; leastways she was--he's been three hours on the road. I reckon it's all over by this time.--You won't go, sir! It's morally unpossible."

"Won't go! It's morally impossible not. You knew I would go.--That's the mare outside."

"No, sir. It's Tilter."

"Then you did think I wouldn't go! You knew well enough Tilter's no use for a job like this. The mare's my only chance."

"I beg your pardon, sir. I did not think you would go."

"Home with you, as hard as Tilter can drive--confound him!--And bring the mare instantly. She's had her supper?"

"I left her munching, sir."

"Don't let her drink. I'll give her a quart of ale at Job Timpson's."

"You won't go that way, surely, sir?"

"It's the nearest; and the snow can't be very deep yet."

"I've brought your boots and breeches, sir."

"All right."

The man hurried out, and Harry was heard to run up stairs to his brother's room. The friends stared at each other in some perturbation.

Presently Harry re-entered, in the articles last mentioned, saying--

"Ralph, have you an old shooting-coat you could lend me?"

"I should think so, Harry. I'll fetch you one."

Now at length the looks of the circle found some expression in the words of the colonel:

"Mr. Armstrong, I am an old soldier, and I trust I know what duty is.

The only question is, _Can_ this be done?"

"Colonel, no man can tell what can or cannot be done till he tries. I think it can."

The colonel held out his hand--his sole reply.

The schoolmaster and his wife ventured to expostulate. To them Harry made fun of the danger. Adela had come from the corner to which she had retreated, and joined the group. She laid her hand on Harry's arm, and he saw that she was pale as death.

"Don't go," she said.

As if to enforce her words, the street-door, which, I suppose, William had not shut properly, burst open with a bang against the wall, and the wind went shrieking through the house, as if in triumph at having forced an entrance.

"The woman is in labour," said Harry in reply to Adela, forgetting, in the stern reality both for the poor woman and himself, that girls of Adela's age and social position are not accustomed to hear such facts so plainly expressed, from a man's lips. Adela, however, simply accepted the fact, and replied:

"But you will be too late anyhow."

"Perhaps just in time," he answered, as his brother entered with a coat over his arm.

"Ralph," he went on, with a laugh, "they are trying to persuade me not to go."

"It is a tempting of Providence," said Mrs. Bloomfield.

"Harry, my boy," said the curate solemnly, "I would rather have you brought home dead to-morrow, than see you sitting by that fire five minutes after your mare comes. But you'll put on a great-coat?"

"No, thank you. I shall do much better without one. How comical I shall look in Farmer Prisphig's Sunday clothes! I'm not going to be lost this storm, Mrs. Bloomfield; for I second-see myself at this moment, sitting by the farmer's kitchen fire, in certain habiliments a world too wide for my unshrunk shanks, but doing my best to be worthy of them by the attention I am paying to my supper."

Here he stooped to Lizzie and whispered in her ear:

"Don't let them make a fuss about my going. There is really no particular danger. And I don't want my patient there frightened and thrown back, you know."