On the Northern Ice

by Elia W. Peattie

　　

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THE winter nights up at Sault Ste.Marie are as white and luminous asthe Milky Way. The silence whichrests upon the solitude appears tobe white also. Even sound has been includedin Nature's arrestment, for, indeed, save thestill white frost, all things seem to be obliterated.The stars have a poignant brightness,but they belong to heaven and not to earth,and between their immeasurable height andthe still ice rolls the ebon ether in vast, liquidbillows.In such a place it is difficult to believe thatthe world is actually peopled. It seems as ifit might be the dark of the day after Cainkilled Abel, and as if all of humanity's remainderwas huddled in affright away fromthe awful spaciousness of Creation.The night Ralph Hagadorn started out forEcho Bay -- bent on a pleasant duty -- helaughed to himself, and said that he did notat all object to being the only man in theworld, so long as the world remained as unspeakablybeautiful as it was when he buckledon his skates and shot away into the solitude.He was bent on reaching his best friend intime to act as groomsman, and business haddelayed him till time was at its briefest. Sohe journeyed by night and journeyed alone,and when the tang of the frost got at hisblood, he felt as a spirited horse feels when itgets free of bit and bridle. The ice was asglass, his skates were keen, his frame fit, andhis venture to his taste! So he laughed, andcut through the air as a sharp stone cleaves thewater. He could hear the whistling of theair as he cleft it.As he went on and on in the black stillness,he began to have fancies. He imagined himselfenormously tall -- a great Viking of theNorthland, hastening over icy fiords to his love.And that reminded him that he had a love-- though, indeed, that thought was alwayspresent with him as a background for otherthoughts. To be sure, he had not told herthat she was his love, for he had seen her onlya few times, and the auspicious occasion hadnot yet presented itself. She lived at EchoBay also, and was to be the maid of honor tohis friend's bride -- which was one morereason why he skated almost as swiftly as thewind, and why, now and then, he let out ashout of exultation.The one cloud that crossed Hagadorn's sunof expectancy was the knowledge that MarieBeaujeu's father had money, and that Marielived in a house with two stories to it, andwore otter skin about her throat and littlesatin-lined mink boots on her feet when shewent sledding. Moreover, in the locket inwhich she treasured a bit of her dead mother'shair, there was a black pearl as big as a pea.These things made it difficult -- perhaps impossible --for Ralph Hagadorn to say morethan, "I love you." But that much he meantto say though he were scourged with chagrinfor his temerity.This determination grew upon him as heswept along the ice under the starlight.Venus made a glowing path toward the westand seemed eager to reassure him. He wassorry he could not skim down that avenue oflight which flowed from the love-star, but hewas forced to turn his back upon it and facethe black northeast.It came to him with a shock that he wasnot alone. His eyelashes were frosted andhis eyeballs blurred with the cold, so at firsthe thought it might be an illusion. But whenhe had rubbed his eyes hard, he made surethat not very far in front of him was a longwhite skater in fluttering garments who spedover the ice as fast as ever werewolf went.He called aloud, but there was no answer.He shaped his hands and trumpeted throughthem, but the silence was as before -- it wascomplete. So then he gave chase, setting histeeth hard and putting a tension on his firmyoung muscles. But go however he would,the white skater went faster. After a time,as he glanced at the cold gleam of the northstar, he perceived that he was being led fromhis direct path. For a moment he hesitated,wondering if he would not better keep to hisroad, but his weird companion seemed todraw him on irresistibly, and finding it sweetto follow, he followed.Of course it came to him more than oncein that strange pursuit, that the white skaterwas no earthly guide. Up in those latitudesmen see curious things when the hoar frost ison the earth. Hagadorn's own father -- tohark no further than that for an instance!-- who lived up there with the Lake SuperiorIndians, and worked in the copper mines, hadwelcomed a woman at his hut one bitternight, who was gone by morning, leaving wolftracks on the snow! Yes, it was so, and JohnFontanelle, the half-breed, could tell youabout it any day -- if he were alive. (Alack,the snow where the wolf tracks were, is meltednow!)Well, Hagadorn followed the white skaterall the night, and when the ice flushed pinkat dawn, and arrows of lovely light shot up intothe cold heavens, she was gone, and Hagadornwas at his destination. The sun climbedarrogantly up to his place above all otherthings, and as Hagadorn took off his skatesand glanced carelessly lakeward, he beheld agreat wind-rift in the ice, and the wavesshowing blue and hungry between white fields.Had he rushed along his intended path,watching the stars to guide him, his glanceturned upward, all his body at magnificentmomentum, he must certainly have gone intothat cold grave.How wonderful that it had been sweet tofollow the white skater, and that he followed!His heart beat hard as he hurried to hisfriend's house. But he encountered no weddingfurore. His friend met him as menmeet in houses of mourning."Is this your wedding face?" cried Hagadorn.Why, man, starved as I am, I lookmore like a bridegroom than you!""There's no wedding to-day!""No wedding! Why, you're not --""Marie Beaujeu died last night --""Marie --""Died last night. She had been skatingin the afternoon, and she came home chilledand wandering in her mind, as if the frosthad got in it somehow. She grew worse andworse, and all the time she talked of you.""Of me?""We wondered what it meant. No oneknew you were lovers.""I didn't know it myself; more's the pity.At least, I didn't know --""She said you were on the ice, and thatyou didn't know about the big breaking-up,and she cried to us that the wind was off shoreand the rift widening. She cried over andover again that you could come in by the oldFrench creek if you only knew --""I came in that way.""But how did you come to do that? It'sout of the path. We thought perhaps --"But Hagadorn broke in with his story andtold him all as it had come to pass.That day they watched beside the maiden,who lay with tapers at her head and at herfeet, and in the little church the bride whomight have been at her wedding said prayersfor her friend. They buried Marie Beaujeuin her bridesmaid white, and Hagadorn wasbefore the altar with her, as he had intendedfrom the first! Then at midnight the loverswho were to wed whispered their vows in thegloom of the cold church, and walked togetherthrough the snow to lay their bridal wreathsupon a grave.Three nights later, Hagadorn skated backagain to his home. They wanted him to goby sunlight, but he had his way, and wentwhen Venus made her bright path on the ice.The truth was, he had hoped for the companionshipof the white skater. But he didnot have it. His only companion was thewind. The only voice he heard was the bayingof a wolf on the north shore. The worldwas as empty and as white as if God had justcreated it, and the sun had not yet colorednor man defiled it.

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