CHAPTER VI. — A Disciple of Satan.
About the year 1866 I was summoned to attend a lady in Berri street, the wife of an officer in the ——th Rifles. Her husband, Captain O’Grady, had taken a furnished house for the winter, the quarters in the Quebec Barracks being unsuited for the accommodation of a lady of her station, and round the house on every hand evidences might be seen of both wealth, taste and refinement. Mrs. O’Grady was a beautiful woman of about twenty-two, and had only been married about a year; her husband, who was an Irishman, loved her passionately, and gave me particular charges concerning her, bidding me spare neither trouble nor expense to render her illness as little irksome as possible. After her baby (a fine boy) was born I attended her regularly every day, and, as she had travelled in her youth and lived for some time in Germany, she invited me to come and see her in the evenings whenever I was at leisure, so that we might converse in the beautiful language of Schiller and Goethe, and chat about that beautiful far-off land. Captain O’Grady quite approved of this arrangement, and often used to join in the conversation; it was in Germany he had met his wife, and he had a great fancy for the soft German language, although speaking it but imperfectly himself.
Shortly after the birth of his child, Captain O’Grady’s regiment was ordered to Chambly, and he was obliged to separate from his wife for a time. He used to drive in occasionally to Montreal to visit her, but at this season of the year the roads were very bad, and, as the thermometer sometimes fell 20 or even 30 degrees below zero, the journey was usually attended with much discomfort and even some danger. On Christmas Day, Mrs. O’Grady wished her husband to remain at Chambly and dine at the mess, but he insisted on coming into Montreal and dining with his family. He accordingly set out about eleven o’clock in the morning, accompanied by a brother officer named Churchill, a lieutenant in the same regiment.
It was a bitterly cold day, and the snow, which had been falling heavily for some days, was blown in immense drifts across the roads, rendering them almost impassable. The groom, being accustomed to obey, brought the horses round with alacrity when ordered to do so, but he shook his head ominously as he handed the reins to Captain O’Grady, and jumped into the dickey.
Off they flew through the blinding snowdrifts, the fine horses going at a tremendous speed, and threatening to overthrow the sleigh every instant. The hot breath of the horses froze to the head-gear and harness, rendering it perfectly white, and the three men were obliged to pull their fur caps over their ears to avoid their being frozen. They had not proceeded far on their journey when the road, which in summer was clearly defined by fences on either side, diverged somewhat from the ordinary course, and was made, for convenience, through an adjoining farm, being marked with pine branches, stuck at intervals in the snow. As our party proceeded, even these slight indications were invisible, the drifts rising in some places to a height of twelve or fourteen feet. In one of the latter the sleigh stuck fast, and the occupants were obliged to get out, and wading up to their knees in snow to assist the horses to regain terra firma, or at least a more compact body of snow. Whilst engaged in this operation, Mr. Churchill noticed that the groom’s nose was perfectly white, and on examination it was found to be frozen; they accordingly set to work to rub it with snow, and at Captain O’Grady’s suggestion he held a large body of snow to it for the remainder of the journey, which had the effect of thawing it out.
In a short time they regained the high road, and went along at a tremendous pace for three or four miles, when they entered the village of Longueuil, which is situated on the south bank of the St. Lawrence, a little below Montreal. They found the river completely frozen over, the cold being intense, but the ice-bridge had only just been formed, and the surface was rough and uneven, causing the sleigh to oscillate fearfully, threatening every moment to overturn. The storm had by this time increased to a perfect hurricane, and the drifting snow was driven with intense force into the faces of both men and horses, causing the latter to bound and gallop fearfully, to the extreme peril of those behind them. O’Grady, however, was a skillful driver, and kept the horses well in hand, calling to them from time to time in a reassuring manner; as for Churchill, he rather enjoyed the little spice of danger, and, as conversation was out of the question, he lit a cigar, and, drawing the buffalo-robes tightly round him, made himself as comfortable as possible. In a short time they arrived at their destination, and throwing the reins to the groom, O’Grady dashed up stairs and in an instant had his wife in his arms. She remonstrated with him about coming in on such a terrible day, but descended to the drawing-room, and, having welcome Mr. Churchill to her house, ordered the servant to set the table for dinner. Just then the groom entered the house to enquire when the carriage would be required in the evening, and the appearance of his nose set the whole party laughing heartily; his proboscis had assumed a deep red hue, and was swollen to an enormous size, giving him a most comical appearance. O’Grady ordered him to bring the carriage round at ten o’clock, and, dinner just then being announced, they prepared, in true English fashion, to celebrate the Nativity.
After dinner, Mrs. O’Grady entertained the gentlemen with music, and, having chatted on various topics very pleasantly they were aroused to the fact that the evening social intercourse must draw to an end by the clanging of the door-bell announcing the arrival of the groom from the neighboring livery-stable with the horses. Taking an affectionate leave of his wife, and promising to come into Montreal to dinner on the following Sunday, O’Grady mounted the box, followed by the light-hearted Churchill, and cracking his whip was soon speeding rapidly along into the howling storm. Churchill lit another cigar, and shut his eyes to avoid the blinding snowdrifts, while the driver was with difficulty enabled to see his way. Arrived at the suburb known as Hochelaga, O’Grady turned his horses’ heads towards the river, and they dashed across the ice-bridge at the rate of about twelve miles an hour. On they went at a terrible pace, the sleigh bumping and jolting over the rough road, till bang they came upon a piece of ice, on to which the snow had drifted, and over went the sleigh, turning its occupants head first on the hard, icy road. Churchill was first on his feet, and, though bruised and bleeding, succeeded in arresting the horses, who, now thoroughly frightened, were about to run away; the groom also soon recovered himself and ran to the assistance of his master, but the latter was past all human aid, having fallen from the upper side of the sleigh bead foremost on a piece of ice, and broken his neck. His companions were struck dumb with grief and astonishment; however, they could not stand freezing in the middle of the river, so, righting the sleigh, they placed the dead man gently inside it, and drove slowly to Longueuil, where a friendly habitant placed the best room in his house at their disposal.
Mrs. O’Grady, as may well be supposed, was very much shocked at the news of her husband’s death. The body was brought to her house in Montreal, and from thence to Mount Royal Cemetery, where it was interred, a company of rifles firing a volley over the grave. For a time the young widow was undecided whether to go back to her friends in England or to remain in Canada, but, being unwilling to become dependent on her relations, she accepted a situation as governess in a wealthy family residing in the west end of Montreal, placing her infant son under the charge of a nurse.