» ; | | : G) ( : | | ( | | | | j | Author of—
“My Brave and Gallant

(A Drama of the Klondike Trail, in Narrative

ROBERT WATSON

Gentleman”

“Gordon of the Lost
Lagoon”

“High Hazard”

“The Exploits of Sergeant
Dalgleish,” etc., etc

Verse)

N THE FAR-OFF, glowing Westland, Swift as fire the news spread, crackling,

In a city by the sea,
Where the broad and sparkling ocean
Lapped and crooned its ecstasy,
ived in peace and happy concord,
Basking in Love's golden spell,
With his wife and little daughter,
Doctor Lambert De Rochelle.

Much revered by all who knew him;
Gentle, yet of iron will;
None in that expansive Westland
Rivalled him for surgeon’s skill.
Quiet, kind and unassuming;
For the people’s good he wrought;
Loved at home, abroad respected,
Of disaster recking not.

When, one day, from out the Northland,
Came a stranger, rich with gold;
Tall, athletic, dark and handsome;
Smooth-tongued, debonair and bold.
With an easy high-bred bearing,
With a friendship feigned so well,
He became a frequent caller
At the home of De Rochelle.

To that home of calm and quiet
Came he like the wind of spring,

Rousing vague and vagrant fancies
That had long been slumbering.

He could draw a vivid picture;
He could tell a thrilling tale

Of the life, the gold, the freedom,
Of the luring of the trail.

Oft, when called away at even
To some fight “twixt death and life,
De Rochelle, in simple trust, would
Bid adieu to guest and wife;
Leaving them for hours together;
Thinking not of flame and fan;
Blind to sense the hidden danger
Lurking in this polished man,

Who could sing with voice impassioned
That would stir a heart of stone;
Who could speak illicit loving
Through a violin’s dulcet tone:
Who, with eyes that never wearied,
As they searched a woman’s soul,
Found at last the chords responsive,
Strummed his tune and claimed the toll.

De Rochelle returned one morning
From a vigil in the night,

Found his home in desolation;
Sorrow where had been delight:

Found but one, his little daughter,
Sleeping innocently there.

De Rochelle cried out his anguish,
Cursed in frenzy of despair.

FOURTEENTH EDITION

Over that city by the sea;
Many came to offer tokens
Of their heartfelt sympathy.
But the house was bleak and lonely;
Saw they but a child and maid.
Doctor De Rochelle had vanished
As from substance flees the shade.

And some fishers, steaming homeward,
Towed a tiny sailing boat,

Found adrift and bearing nothing
But a locket and a note.

To his dearest friend this message
Was addressed by De Rochelle:

“God forgive my falt’ring courage.
Guard my baby. Fare-you-well.”

In the Northland, in the lone-land,
O’er the blizzard-blinded trail,

Drove a sled with struggling huskies,
Battling with the frozen gale.

By the dogs, a keen-eyed redskin
Strode in silence all the way;

Heedless he of cold and tempest,
Counting neither night nor day.

On the sled, ‘mid robes and comforts,
Sat a lady, wondrous fair;

Pale her cheeks from arduous travel,
Heavy-eyed, bespeaking care;

All unused to snow and hardship,
In a sunny climate bred,

Tearful now of things behind her,
Fearful of what loomed ahead.

Now and then, with nerves a-tingle
She would search the white veil’s gloom,
Shuddering, as if perceiving
Mocking spectres of the tomb.
Then would she, with mute appealing,
Scan the face of him who rode
By her side, of storm defiant,
Urging dogs with word and goad.

Many days they'd been together;
Many trials they’d endured.

Lover from the frozen Northland;
Wife from home and husband lured.

With fond words of reassuring,
In a voice of tenderness,

Would the bold and reckless lover
Hush the lady’s dire distress.

Till a smile of chastened gladness
Burst like sunshine through her tears,

“When one day there chanced a stranger seeking shelter for the night.”

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