“Wonderful pretty, that, m’lord,” said Parsons confidentially, as he looked up from his labors, crimson with much bending. He pointed with his finger toward the farthest side of the glacier, whence a stream rippled out patteringly.
I followed the direction of his hand and saw, what, in the general distraction of Lessaution’s first find, we had overlooked.
A huge ice-grotto, blue and delicately shaded, ran deeply into the heart of the glacier. The sun sparkled on the archway that spanned the entrance, glowing through panes of clear ice in fifty azure shades and glittering prisms. The stream that purred out, born of the friction on the granite bed below the ice, looked heartsome and inviting in the sunlight. It was in contrast to the stony immobility around, and I rose and took a few steps forward to contemplate it.
The cave ran straight back from its mouth into the ice-hollows, and the reflections lit it up for some little way back into its dark recesses. It looked mysteriously fascinating, as its blue shadows melted into the impenetrable gloom. I stepped a few yards into it, admiring the delicious tints that filtered through the roof. The thought struck me that while our lunch was warming it might be amusing to investigate this sub-glacial waterway. I returned to Mr. Parsons, who had watched my motion with genuine but repressed interest.
“Have we candles?” I inquired.
“I did happen to put in a couple of dips, m’lord, thinking they might come in useful if we camped the night. Not that we have what you’d call much night here,” added the sailor, as if it was an additional grievance of these outlandish realms.
He produced his greasy little parcel, and we entered the cavern, getting well dripped on by the way. The little cascades fell freely from the roof in the increasing heat of the sun.
As the gloom deepened we lit up, and I strode ahead holding my candle high in the air. Parsons followed behind, gaping. In this order we plunged into the icy mysteries before us.
The stream was a shallow one—not above four or five inches deep for the most part—and we splashed and slushed along with ease on its sandy bed. But the cold was atrocious. It struck home the deeper for our sudden withdrawal from the full sunlight. As we advanced the clear blue of the ice above the entrance deepened to a sickly green; as we went on to a lurid purple. Finally the rays ceased to percolate through the heavy masses above us. We were in thick darkness—the gloom that has never known the day.
I heard Parsons shiver behind me as he crept closer. The roof-drippings fell with a hollow splash in the pools and shallows. A fearsome stillness filled and pervaded the cave between these patterings. Our steps and splashings seemed to roar out with indecent echoes on the awesome quiet. A scene of impertinence—of pushing forwardness—in thus invading these awful recesses fell upon me. My steps began to slow; a shudder swept my nerves, making me tremble creepily.