Page:Once a Week June to Dec 1863.pdf/209

15, 1863.] Gracious heaven! what would become of her? If she had only pondered over the matter a few minutes before, she could have sought protection of the guard while he was at the window. What should she do now? She would put down the window that very minute and shout for help, and then even while her hand was on the frame ready to put the first thought into execution, a second crossed her mind. Where was the good of that? Who could hear amid all the clatter of the moving wheels and the gasping of the engine. If there was only some one in the next carriage she would knock at the partition and beg of them to help her; but—no, she could hear no one speaking, and knew that she was alone in her terror. Well, she would do all she could to calm and soothe, rather than vex, the man; then, perhaps, by humouring him she might be able to ward off any great danger until they reached the next halting-place.

Absorbed with such musings as the above, the girl for a moment turned her head from the stranger and was busy looking through the window sideways now towards this end of the train and then in the direction of the other, in the hope of catching sight of the guard before he returned to his seat on the top; and when she found the official was nowhere to be seen, she turned round again and discovered her red-bearded companion in the act of trying to cut the hairy appendage from his face, as he held a pair of scissors in one hand and the little mirror up before him with the other.

If Helen Boyne had had any doubts of the man’s sanity before, she was now fully convinced that her fellow traveller was nothing less than a confirmed maniac—no decent person of sound understanding would be guilty of such impropriety in the presence of an unprotected young lady.

The attempt of the fellow, however, at extemporaneous hair-cutting was utterly idle under such circumstances, for the motion of the carriage as well as the reversed movements of his own hand as seen reflected in the glass, rendered it extremely difficult for him to divest his chin even of a lock or two; and as the girl saw him nearly run the sharp points of the scissors into his throat, she started and half-shrieked in her alarm.

The cry made the man turn sharply round and look wildly at her, and then he gave a faint titter, and rising from his seat went and placed himself directly opposite to the girl.

“Merciful Heaven!” she breathed to herself, as her heart sank like a heavy stone within her; “What will he do, and what shall I do now? If I move away he will follow me and be angry, too.”

But there was little time for vague surmise, for the man soon said:

“May I ask, Mees” (the German rendering of Miss) “to do me a favour?” and as he uttered the words he smiled grimly at the terrified girl and half bowed towards her.

Helen Boyne paused for a minute as she almost foresaw the ugly boon the fellow was about to seek of her, and then stammered out:

“I shall be happy to do anything I can to oblige a fellow-traveller; but I must beg of you to remember that I am a young lady and unfortunately an unprotected one also, and therefore I entreat of you, as a gentleman, not to request me to do anything which I cannot consent to do with propriety.”

“Oh, don’t be alarmed, Fraulein,” blurted out the other, “I am harmless enough if you take me the right way. All I want of you is to cut my beard and whiskers clean off.”

It was as she had expected, and the poor girl in her modesty put her hands before her eyes as she sobbed out from behind them,—

“Oh, sir, I’m a stranger to you, and I blush to hear you ask me to do such a thing.”

“Come, come!” said the man, holding her hands down, “what should you blush about? I’m not going to ill-use you, and for the little matter of hair-cutting, you needn’t put on these romantic flights, for in many parts of Europe the barbers are women, and no one looks upon them as indelicate people.”

“But, sir, they are used to such an occupation, and I am not,” wept on the girl, “therefore I implore you wait till you get to your destination, and have it done by such as make a calling of it, for indeed, indeed, I cannot do it.”

“Oh! oh! you can’t, can’t you? Too fine a lady, no doubt,” said the man, with a surly scoff, “to play the barber; but we’ll see.”

“What would you do?” gasped Helen Boyne. “You would not force me to touch you?” and the girl shuddered with horror from head to foot.

“No force, only a little strong persuasion,” was the cool determined reply, as he drew his carpet-bag towards him and then dragged from the bottom of it a small revolver pistol which he placed on the cushion beside him.

“Heaven! You would not murder me, man?” cried the girl, as she started up from her seat.

“Oh no, no!” laughed the fellow derisively. “Not if you don’t particularly wish it, Miss. But the sight of that little mild persuader there may bring you to your senses;” and then rose to put his carpet-bag up in the netting over his head. As he did so his back was turned towards the girl but for an instant, and in that instant Helen Boyne darted forward, and snatching at the pistol that lay on the cushion, rushed with it in her hand to the opposite corner of the carriage, and there she stood with her back against the door, with her arm outstretched and the muzzle of the revolver directed point blank at her adversary; nor did the weapon tremble the least in her hand.

“It does bring me to my senses, coward that you are, for it teaches me that though but a mere child in strength, I have now the mastery over you; and though I never pulled a trigger before, I tell you I will shoot you down if you move but one step to lay a hand upon me.”

“Haugh! haugh!” bellowed her companion; and then turning round looked the girl steadfastly in the face and said sarcastically, “You never pulled a trigger before, didn’t my little one?” and began to stalk towards her.

“Another step and I fire,” cried the girl.

“Bah!” returned the other, and then stretching out his hand he made a snatch at the muzzle of the pistol that the girl still held steadily directed