A Covenant with the Dead. A novel. By the author of 'A Harvest of Weeds' [i.e. C. Lemore], etc

Chapter I

A NIGHT IN THE OPEN. It was a memorable run in more ways than one. The field was unusually large, and the fox unusually strong in the wind. As a rule, when the Llanrwst pack started their fox from the cover at the top end of Bryntirion, and the wind was from the nor'-west, those who were in the know were able to form their own conclusions as to the route to be taken, and to make their own plans for reaching the scene of the finish by the easiest and best road, irrespective of the fox's whims on the subject of direct locomotion. But on this especial occasion the wiseacres were for once at a VOL. I. A disadvantage, and those who stuck as near as mieht be to the dogs were those who were nearest home at the finish. And the wiseacres grumbled prodigiously. Who, they wanted to know, ever heard of a fox trying to climb a mountain after he had had the dogs at his tail for close on thirty minutes ?

There were more accidents that day than in the whole season besides. Men and horses who had the most unlimited confidence in each other, and good cause for the same, came to grief among the broken ground at the foot of the hill, which was a terra incognita alike to master and beast. It had been rather a slow day at the start. The first fox did not break away until close on one o'clock, and being a cunning old strate gist who knew his business thoroughly, he had kept the hunt on the jog from pillar to post for an hour and a half, and managed to give them the slip after all. After this a move was made for the Bryn tirion covers, and at ten minutes past three they started a rouser. Everybody knew at once, by his style of breaking away, that they had got a teaser this time ; it had been a beastly day so far, but they were to have a good finish.

Men, horses, and hounds alike shook them selves together and prepared for a bit of smart work. By the time they reached the foot of Bryn-mawr everybody's blood was fairly up, and then, wThen those in the first flight were past thinking reasonably on any subject what ever, the fox, instead of keeping straight on down wind, as a fox might be expected to do, turned at right angles, and skirting round the east side of the hill, took a short, sharp run up wind, turned again, and dashed in among the boulders and gullies at the foot of the range. In after years that run became legendary in the annals of the Llanrwst hunt. When a member once got on to the account of that day's casualties strangers were apt to shake their heads in good-natured doubt. And yet, as a matter of fact, it was almost impossible to exaggerate the list of the day's disasters.

Charlotte Kennett, eldest daughter of Hilde bert Kennett, Esquire, of Kennett's Wold, Yorkshire, at present on a visit to her sister, Mrs Prys-Rees of Coed-y-Bychwn, was just at the tail of the first lot when the fox took that extraordinary turn up wind, and in among the broken ground, which so disconcerted his pursuers. As a rule Rees brought his sister-in-law out himself, but to-day other duties claimed his time, and he had begged the good services of one of his tenants, a Mr Evans, on her behalf. And Evans, having grown-up daughters of his own, was duly impressed by the reponsi bilities of his position ; but for this all might have gone well with him. He might have reached his home and family that evening none the worse for the day's doings, and all that follows must have inevitably been ordered differently.

As it was, his first thought, when he found himself among the shifting shingle and broken ground of the hillside — ground almost im practicable for anything less sure-footed than a mountain pony — was for the intrepid young woman behind him. He had seen her and her horse Rhino do one or two things already, before to-day, and he knew that wherever he led there she would follow. So, with a touch of regret on his own account, he turned his mare's head resolutely aside at the first really nasty jump they came to, and signing to Miss Kennett to wait, he rode a bit more up the hill to see if the ravine narrowed higher up. Miss Kennett, inwardly rebelling, checked Rhino too, and waited a few seconds, listening for her pioneer's signal to come on. As she faced her horse round to the wind she saw the western horizon, piled high with solid lumpy grey clouds, which looked as if they meant mischief; and even as she stood two or three large snowflakes fluttered down irresolutely, as if they had been cast forth against their will, and settled on Rhino's mane and the bosom of her habit.

The wind was changing every in stant, colder and colder. She shivered at its icy touch, and walked Rhino gently up the hill. It was already too cold to stand with safety. When she had gone some little distance she began to wonder why she did not meet, or at least see something of Mr Evans. It was now that the deathlike loneliness of the scene struck her for the first time. She found herself on the upward slope of a trian gular valley, shut in on two sides by the rugged hills, open on the other to the softer level country below. There was not a living creature bar her horse and herself in sight. The hunt, as many of them as had got so far, had disappeared over a low ridge on her left, and as she waited again she fancied she heard a faint view-halloo in the distance. Feeling mad to have lost the finish by such a little bit, and rather indignant with Mr Evans for being the cause of her disappointment, she determined to take matters into her own hands and jump the gully neck or nothing.

But it was too dusk to do things rashly. She took the horse up to the ravine to have a look at the jump before putting him at it. To her astonishment, as they came up to the edge, the creature shied slightly, a vice hitherto unknown in him, and took his next step or two forward with pricked ears and lowered neck. The next instant Miss Kennett knew everything:. In the shadow at the bottom of the gully, scarcely deeper here than a roadside ditch, lay the motionless figure of a man. With a startled cry she slid from her saddle and scrambled down into the little hollow. Yes — it was Mr Evans — Mr Evans, with his face of a dull leaden colour, all but one spot over his right eyebrow, where there was a patch of red of so vivid a colour that it seemed as if all the usual healthy ruddiness of his cheeks had concentrated itself in that smaller space.

Miss Kennett's heart tightened with a sudden awful fear as she knelt down and slid her hand inside the senseless man's vest. No ! Thank God, he was not dead! His heart was still beating — faintly, it is true. After that first sickening flash of terror this discovery was relief enough for the moment, and she busied herself with loosening his throat gear, and getting his head into a less cramped position, and doing one or two little things for his comfort. Then she found his flask — filled, thank Heaven, with brandy, and of goodly proportions to boot — and open ing his teeth with the horn handle of her crop, she poured a few drops down his throat. After this his heart-beats strengthened slightly, and she got up out of the ditch and took a good look round. The snowclouds from the west had by this time spread themselves out in a smooth, un broken grey canopy over the whole extent of the sky, and the snow was falling quickly.

Away in the valley below her faint lines of white were forming, wherever a hedge afforded the snowflakes a few feet of shelter from the wind, which was rapidly increasing to a hurricane. Charlotte Kennett looked round at the helpless man in the hollow behind her, and then again at the dreary prospect in front, and a quick overwhelming sensation of helplessness smote upon her. What should she do ? Should she ride away at once for help ? And leave the senseless man to be buried under the approaching snowstorm, and to be in all probability frozen to death before he was discovered again ? The idea was not to be entertained for a moment ; let it be for life or for death, she must stay there and do her best for the fellow-creature so curiously thrown upon her mercy. At the thought of passing the night upon the mountain side with him her heart grew such a craven within her, that she put the idea from her with resolute determination, and refused to contemplate the possibility of the thing.

Search parties would, of course, be sent out as soon as it was discovered that they were missing. His riderless horse would certainly be seen by somebody, who would at once give the alarm. At the worst it would only be a temporary inconvenience that she would have to put up with. But, meantime, it was dreadful that her charge should lie out there in the open, with the snowflakes drifting down on his uncon scious grey face. And yet, what could she do with him ? About a dozen yards higher up the gully appeared to end abruptly, blocked up by a huge slab of rock which projected five or six feet forward over the hollow. If she could get him in there he would at least be out of the wind and beyond the reach of the snow. She went a little nearer to examine the cranny, Rhino following her like a dog, evidently a little exercised in his mind as to the meaning of this unprecedented finish to the day's run.

The darkness was falling with astonishing rapidity. When she got back to her helpless charge again she had to lean over him to see his face at all, and doing so, met the un perceptive gaze of his wide open eyes. 'Thank God!' she cried fervently. 'Oh, thank God you are coming round ! Now, perhaps, I shall be able to get you under shelter before the fury of the storm reaches us. Do you think you could get on your feet ? ' The eyes grew less untroubled, and the brow took a look of perplexity. She saw the effort at thought and encouraged it. ' Try to understand what I am saying to you,' she went on, speaking with slow distinct ness ; ' try with all your might to understand. You have been badly thrown, and you and I are alone on the mountain side, and there is a heavy snowstorm coming on. I want you to try to move a few steps, to a place of shelter I have found — will you ?

We shall both be frozen here.' Through the dusk she saw his lips moving, but no sound came. Kneeling by his side she gave him a few drops from the flask, and waited a little before she said again, — ' Will you try to move a few steps — only a very few ? ' This time the words came — faint, husky, and uncertain, but reasonable. ' The stirrup,' he said ; ' put the stirrup within reach.' Wondering, she did as he bid her, leading Rhino down into the ditch a little way lower down, and bringing the docile beast up to his side. Then she saw what he meant. When he had got the stirrup in his hand he tried to raise himself by its help. Seeing this she got behind him, and used all her vigorous young strength to second his en deavours, steadying the horse meantime with such expressive words and sounds as might be expected to reach his understanding.

But in honest truth the brute did not need these verbal encouragements to do his duty ; by this time he knew pretty well all there was to know, and was only too glad to be of help in the crisis. And at last Evans was on his feet and mov ing, with one arm round the pommel of the saddle and the other round Miss Kennett's shoulders. But it was only a very few steps he travelled before he began to sway heavily. She felt him coming and managed to break the shock of his fall. He had swooned agfain. How many times this happened before she at last had him safe under the shelter of the over hanging rock she did not know. Sometimes she lost heart for a breathless second or two, and almost resigned herself to sitting quietly down by his side and giving up the struggle. But at these times the memory of his womenzvith the Dead. 12 folk at home always came to her as a reproach.

Were they to be rendered widowed and father less because she had not the strength and cour age to persevere ? And so these momentary little surrenders always ended in another effort, another minute of violent muscular exertion, of eager encouragement to her helpless companion — a minute of strainings, tearingstrivings breath lessness on her part, of dogged effort on the part of the suffering man, of perfect patience and helpfulness on the part of the horse — and at last they were at the place where they would be, and Charlotte Kennett could have cried with joy only to see him safely out of reach of the whirling snowflakes and the piercing wind. But just now was not the right time for the indulgence of weak emotion. While there was yet a few minutes of that twilight which is but the ghost of the departed day still left to her, she tramped out again into the open, and gathered close-packed annfuls of the dead autumn bracken, which still clung thickly to the slopes and steeps on all sides.

With these she built a fire — out of the hollow and round the angle of the rock, where Rhino would not see the flicker of the flames — and set it alight, hop ing against hope that its glimmer might be seen A Night hi the Open. 13 from afar, and guide some of the searchers to her poor little camp. Some more of the bracken she pressed closely round and piled high over the injured man, and presently she succeeded in getting Rhino to lie down close at his side, and the horse, too, she covered with the dry brittle stuff, high over his flanks, hoping thus to keep out the first keen edge of the night's bitterness. She gave the beast some weak brandy and water, mixing a little of the spirit with melted snow, and let ting him draw it up out of her hollowed hands. It was not exactly as good as a warm mash, perhaps, but he recognised the fact that it was the best substitute she could manage, and nosed her over after it with every sign of gratitude.

It was well for them all that she had to be so busy as to preclude any idea of rest for herself. There was the fire to be kept replenished, and this necessitated constant tramps out and about in search of fuel, and there was a mouthful of brandy to be admin istered to the patient as often as he showed signs of consciousness. Once in her perambu lations she came across a sheltered nook where the snow had not drifted, carpeted with dainty grass, which she plucked with her hands and carried down to the hungry Rhino. Another time she lost sigfit of her fire for a second or two, and imagining herself lost, and re alising in a flash the horror of a night out there alone, she went sick with dread and terror. But the next moment the friendly little glimmer came into view again, and she rushed back to it with headlong speed, and was amazed to find how homelike it felt to be there by the poor little glow again, with' Rhino's tail showing round the corner of the rock in the little hollow at her feet, and her stack of twigs and bracken close by in a convenient cleft out of reach of the snow.

For the snow still went on falling all the long night through. By-and-by she found another occupation. As the patient's swoons grew less frequent he became more alive to his physical suffer ings, and though he made no positive sign of what he was enduring, being anxious not to add to the manifold horrors of his guardian's position, her keen ear detected a change in his voice — a change from exhaustion to more acute suffering. He had not known he had betrayed him self until she brought a bandage, improvised A Night in the Open. 15 out of her own handkerchief and his cravat, and moistened with snow, and lifting his head on her knee, bound it lightly round his throbbing temples. ' That is Heaven ! ' he sighed softly, and Rhino, seized perhaps with some sudden whim of jealousy, reached his slim nose forward and slid it insinuatingly into her unoccupied hand.

She sat there for some little time with the two heads on her knee, the man's face set and ashy grey, and the eyes firm closed in silent endurance ; the brute's open and attentive, glancing here and there at the snowflakes falling beyond the shelter of the rock, as they caught the firelight and eddied about in fantastic swirls and rushes, as if in de lighted gloating over the distress and calamity they beheld in the recess down there. In that short pause from physical exertion she found herself imagining weird horrors. It seemed to her that this terrible experience was a punishment laid upon her for her sins, that this was no ordinary night, with its appointed hours of darkness and its inevitable finish at the approach of a new day. The fancy grew and intensified within her that to this night there was to be no end, that they were to go on and on, and on through dim, countless ages, waiting in this little hollow for the morning which was never to dawn, waiting always, with no sound in their ears but the moaning and shrieking of the wind as it tore past the shoulder of the mountain behind them, no view within their vision but the whirling, eddying, shifting curtain of snowflakes, which seemed to have shut them off from the rest of the world for ever and ever.

The notion got such a hold upon her at last that she began to be afraid her senses were deserting her. She got up and moved about, trying to fight back this new terror, and then in her helplessness she put her hands together, and with the snow beating at her from all sides, and with the hurricane singing its threatening dirge in her ears, she prayed such a prayer as she had never before prayed in her life. The mental exaltation of the effort calmed and steadied her, and with renewed courage she resumed her unwearied ministrations to the helpless man, her eager care of the fire, and her persuasive coaxings to the dumb member of the party, whose store of animal heat had such a large share in saving Richard Evans' life that night. A AHght in the Open. 17 And good was it for that same Richard Evans that Charlotte Kennett was no self indulgent, pampered, sinewless miss of modern affectations, but a hardy, robust young creature, accustomed to enjoying the use of the muscles her Maker had bestowed upon her, and with a mind as free from fanciful failings as her body.

Had it been otherwise she must in evitably have succumbed to the horrors which assailed her one after the other through the hours of that eternal night, and when, in the dim grey twilight of the autumn morning, a party of searchers at last stumbled across the tiny camp under the rock, the chances are that, instead of finding a survival of light, vitality and warmth, they might have found a harvest of death. VOL. I. B

Chapter II Impulse

V. INSTINCT. Coed-y-Bychwn had been kept as quiet as the grave all the day through. The servants had moved about the house as silently as ghosts, no gongs had been sounded, the guests had crept up and down the staircases with footfalls of velvet and bated breath, and those among them who had used horses or carriages — though very few had cared to turn out after the night of sleepless anxiety they had passed through — had gone through the back of the house to the stables to mount, so that Charlotte Kennett's rest should not be broken by the passing of a wheel or a hoof-beat under her window. And she had slept as it was right and proper she should sleep after such an ordeal as she had gone through. A hot bath, a double dose of strong soup, perfect quiet, and a big sleep, had been the doctor's prescription, when she had reached the house at seven o'clock in the morning ; and the prescription had been carried out to the letter, with the result that now, at four in the afternoon, she was sitting in a deep arm-chair in front of a blazing fire in her own room, wrapped in a cosy old crimson dress ing-gown, and looking scarcely any the worse for her melodramatic adventure.

She was so much her usual self that when her sister came stealing into the room to make her in quiries, with the footstep and general deport ment which belong exclusively to sick-rooms, Charlotte received her with a gay little laugh. ' Don't do that, Milly, my dearest,' she cried, ' or I shall begin to think I am desperately bad. How beautifully quiet the house has been all day, or is it that I have slept through every thing ?' Mrs Rees stooped and kissed her with a warmth which was the outward expression of her very real relief. ' You are really a wonderful creature,' she said admiringly. ' I don't believe I know another woman who would have gone through such an ordeal and come out of it as you have.' She put her hand down as she spoke and turned zuith the Dead. 20 Charlotte's face a little more to the window ' Looked at by this light, you scarcely even look paler than usual ; there is just the shadow of fatigue under your eyes, et voila tout ! ' 'And why not?' asked Charlotte. 'Did you expect I should have an attack of brain fever ?

I suppose I gave you all a rare fright, Milly?' Mrs Rees opened her eyes, and clasped her hands, and caught her breath. The little performance was more expressive than half-an hour of words. ' I will tell you all about that by-and-by,' she said. ' What I came up about now was to see if you felt equal to a visitor ? ' ' A visitor ? ' ' Yes, or rather two. I hinted as strongly as I well could that it would be better to defer the visit for a day or two, but the poor thing is in such a state of emotion that it seemed cruel to pour cold water on her wish to see you.' ' Who is it ? ' ' Mrs Evans, and one of her daughters. 'Oh, Milly, my child!' ' Yes, I knew you wouldn't like it, and I did my best but — You see you must go through with it sooner or later, Lotte. It's natural the poor soul should want to thank you ; I should, myself, in her place.

I'd get it over and have done with it, if I were you.' 'It will be simply awful!' said Charlotte despairingly ; ' but, as you say, there are her feelings to be thought of, too. Yes, I'll see her, and get it over.' Mrs Rees turned as she moved towards the door. ' Will you have a lamp ? ' ' I think not ; the twilight will be less em barrassing, less ceremonious. No, we will get our chat over in the half light.' But even so it was a rather trying little interview. Mrs Evans' emotions were so palpably be yond her powers of expression that that fact alone gave an overburdened feeling to the mental atmosphere. Charlotte felt insecure the whole time the grateful woman was in the room ; she felt that at any moment there might be a sudden upheaval of the forces at work, that at any instant the excited creature might be carried away by her agitation, and fling herself on her knees, and seize the hands of her husband's preserver in hers, and cover them with her kisses and her tears ; and at this time in her life Charlotte Kennett was almost mannish in her horror of a scene.

Another thing which made her uncomfortable was the good lady's habit of dragging in quota tions from the Scriptures, doing it in such an oddly inconsequent fashion, that Miss Kennett's strong distaste sometimes gave way suddenly to her sense of the ridiculous, and she was seized with a mad inclination to give way to immoderate laughter. ' If my tongue was the pen of a ready writer, Miss Kennett,' she. said, in a voice tremulous with deep feeling, and with brimming tears in her eyes, ' I might perhaps be able to tell you how full my heart is of gratitude. Though, indeed, for that matter, how anybody's tongue could ever be turned into a pen was always a thing that puzzled me. For my part I would rather use my tongue than my pen any day, for if I'm a bad speaker I'm a worse writer, and if I ever try to express myself strongly in writing, it always ends in so many blots and crossings out that at last I forget myself what I meant to say.

And indeed,' she added, with a sudden surprise at finding she had worked round to an appropriate remark promiscuously, ' and indeed that is what I am doing now, Miss Kennett — I am forgetting what I wanted to say, though, as far as that goes, I could never say all I wanted if I went on trying without stopping for a month.' ' Well then, don't distress yourself by trying at all,' put in Charlotte, with a gravity highly laudable under the circumstances. ' You see, Mrs Evans, I know so exactly what it is you want me to understand. You are anxious that I should know that you think I was very brave and good not to desert Mr Evans on the hillside last night. Well, I do know that you think it, but — I'll tell you a little secret, you and your daughter, if you will both promise not to betray me to the whole world.

The real honest truth is that I was not a bit brave at heart. My staying with him was really rather a proof of cowardice than courage, for, all hurt as he was, poor soul, I felt his presence a protection against the terror of the night.' ' And the cold bandage for his head, and the brandy, and covering him up with the bracken ? ' 'It all gave me occupation and helped me to pass the time, you know,' said Charlotte rather apologetically. ' Oh, yes, I know ! ' exclaimed Mrs Evans with a kind of fierceness. ' I know that you are one of those good women whose price is above rubies, one of those whose virtues are a crown to her husband, or, at least, they will be when you have one. The crown is there, all the same, whether the husband is or not, and it's not your fault that he is not there to wear it.' This was almost too much.

Charlotte rose suddenly with some wild idea of flight, and catching sight, over her mother's shoulder, of Miss Evans' face in the back ground, sat down again as suddenly, and com posed her face with stern decorum. ' Of course we are taking up your time,' continued Mrs Evans, putting her own construction on the impetuous action. ' I was forgetting that you must be tired. But one forgets most things when one's heart is full of just one feeling — full to the brim, pressed down and running over, as mine is with gratitude. We will bid you good-night, Miss Kennett. Meg, bid Miss Kennett good-night ; and if you can say a word on your own account, do. I'm surprised that you haven't found anything to say, you that's your father's favourite child, too.' But indeed, Mrs Evans, I assure you there is no word needed,' said Charlotte, putting out her hand to the girl, who came forward with a certain shrinking reluctance, which appeared to Miss Kennett to be caused by her consciousness of her mother's trying manner.

When the girl drew near her she was surprised to discover how pretty and refined she was in looks and manner — surprised, because Mrs Evans scarcely impressed one as being likely to have dainty daughters. But then, she was very young, scarcely more than a child, and perhaps the dim light flattered her a little, too. In another few years the chances were that she would be more like her mother's daughter. ' I hope you won't trouble to do anything of the sort, Miss Evans,' said Charlotte, with a hand outstretched in friendly warmth. ' It will please me far more if you leave your word unsaid.' ' Yes, I know exactly,' answered Miss Evans in a low, shaken voice, which yet had no signs of her mother's tremulousness about it. ' I know how a generous person always hates to be thanked, and words are such empty things.