Let it Go Let it Snow Let it Grow 1st

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Let it go,
Let it snow, Let it grow!

Maia Matiff
 Chapter One

“I can handle myself, David. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Jingling bells, fir trees, and a lot of snow. Abigale Jones didn’t
need the synchronized carols floating out of every shop to tell her
that Christmas was near. The neighborhood was alive with it.

She ran a gloved hand over her reddened nose as she walked
down the snow-covered sidewalk on her way to her apartment. A
sad smile played on her lips as she stepped to the side, allowing a
giggly couple lugging a huge spruce tree between them to pass her.

Yet another reminder that I am alone this Christmas.

“I can’t help but worry, Abbie!” Her brother’s voice on the phone
soon wiped the smile off her face. “You moved so suddenly, and it’s
been nothing but silence from you these past three weeks. Nora and
Jamie are worried too, but I’m the only one who isn’t as busy right
now.”

Abigale grimaced as she kept walking, soon reaching the

modest apartment complex that was her home. It made sense that
her siblings would be worried. Abigale was the last child. Coming
behind three insanely successful siblings, there was hardly anything
she did that mattered in comparison.
 “Should you three not be thinking of winding down for
Christmas? Why are you so busy?”

Her oldest sister, Nora, was top of her class the whole time she
was in school and became an engineer so sought after that she
started her own company and did consulting work.

Jamie was not far behind in success. The second-born had

carved her own path as a writer and painter. Abigale didn’t dare
mention her name in public lest she be swarmed by fans… especially
after Jamie’s most popular novel was finally adapted into a movie.

As though that were not enough, her brother David took up the
last spot by becoming a tech genius. His success ballooned out of
proportion, making it very tough to come behind him.

“You’re changing the subject, Abbie. Don’t think I don’t know

what you’re doing.” He was right, of course. “Jamie said you’re
running away from us because we overwhelm you… is that true?”

Abigale turned on the heat in her apartment and massaged her

numbing nose gently, grateful for the small luxury as she took off
her coat. She hated how hurt her brother sounded.

Of course, their parents did not hold her to any ridiculous

standards or try to force her to be something she was not. They
were satisfied with whatever she did. But in the same sense they
didn’t seem to expect much of her, which made her feel inadequate.

They got lucky three times already, having insanely successful

kids. So, it didn’t matter to them that the fourth wasn’t special since
they’d seen everything there was to see. That was how she felt, and
it was hard to remind herself her parents most likely did not feel the
same.

“That’s not true, Davey.” Abigale used his nickname to soften

things. He was not wrong that she was running, but her siblings
didn’t need to hear that. Apart from what was borderline helicopter
parenting sometimes, the three were great siblings who always
checked on her and tried to spoil her.

“Why then? You don’t even want to spend Christmas with us!”

Abigale smiled sadly. It had been a tough decision, choosing to

spend Christmas alone in a new city where she knew no one. She
believed it was the best, though. She purposely moved in November
so that she would not have the time or money to go back home
come Christmas.

“It’s not that I don’t want to spend Christmas with you, it’s that
I can’t. Davey, I’m just trying to find myself. I’ve given up on being
special, like you guys, but I need a fresh start to grow.”

It was a partial truth. She had tried following in their footsteps,

but she was not good enough. She tried sports and music… her
parents and siblings supported her no matter the venture or how
bad she was at it. She couldn’t help but feel like it was patronizing.

Instead of letting those negative emotions fester, she left so

that she could be objective.

“We’re just so worried! Our baby is all alone out in the world,
and we can’t even help!”

Abigale laughed involuntarily. “Davey, I’m twenty-five! I’m a

grown woman now and it’s time I started acting like it.”

It was funny for David to call her a baby when he was only
three years older. If it were Nora, it would make more sense since
she was thirty-five.

David harrumphed on his end of the line. “You’ll always be our

baby.”
 Abigale laughed again, shaking her head. She really did love her
siblings when she wasn’t busy feeling intimidated by them.

“Are you okay over there though?” Her brother’s voice grew
softer, tentative. “How’s money looking?”

Abigale pressed her lips together. She totaled her car recently,
and having no major life experience, it was hard to get a job. She’d
been forced to settle for work at the little shop below her apartment
block that sold Christmas decorations. It was enough to get by, but
buying a new car was impossible, and making enough for her rent
would be tight.

“I’m perfectly fine, Davey,” she lied through her teeth. “If
anything, you should be worrying about me being lonely. I made it
to twenty-five without ever dating anyone. Doesn’t that mean I’ll die
alone?”

She was an expert at directing her siblings away from the topics
she’d rather were left alone.

“Heck no. Anybody would be excited to date you!” David more

than took the bait. “You’re just introverted. I know you’ll find your
person someday.”

Abigale giggled. “Sure dad,” she teased.

“Ah… you wound me!”

She stood up and walked to her window, looking out at the

snow-covered street.

“I gotta go now Davey. Group call for Christmas later?”

“Fine, I’ll let Jamie and Nora know. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 The line went dead, and Abigale felt a weight settle on her
mood. She used to like Christmas… but now the holidays only
seemed to remind her of her failures.

Broke, single, and lying to her family. What Christmas cheer you
bring Abbie...
 Chapter Two

Ugh, what’s with all the couples at Christmas?

Trevor McBrown was doing his best not to be a Grinch, but that
was proving to be a difficult task as it seemed everywhere he
turned, he was taunted at the sight of happy lovers.

Perhaps it had always been this way, and he just never noticed
before. It was not so far-fetched. After all, just last year, he had
been one of those happy lovers. Now that he was single, he realized
how unfair it was to the heartbroken and alone needing to watch all
that sap.

He narrowed his eyes at the couple in front of him, who were

giggling and snickering after a failed attempt to get their new spruce
tree up the stairs of their porch.

Really… he was beginning to understand the Grinch.

They might have gotten that tree from Connor. Don’t project
your bitterness onto them.

Connor was Trevor’s new boss. He sold Christmas trees, so he

had a lot of work to do. It was lucky for Trevor, because Connor only
needed a hire because his arm was in a sling. All Trevor had to do
was listen to instructions and do the heavy lifting.
 He was grateful for the job, since if he did not get it, he would
have been broke during the holidays. The possibility of having no job
and no money over the holiday was not an option. It would have
ruined him even more while he was already having a hard enough
time as it was.

He side-stepped the couple and kept walking towards his

workplace. For some reason, Connor had decided to park his
temporary fence right by the apartment block next to the Christmas
market. In a way, it was good since people would stop to buy either
product and end up leaving with both. Still, there was a lot of bustle
around the apartment building.

“Ah, there’s my overqualified heavy lifter.” Connor’s voice

reached Trevor’s ears before he saw the man. He began to call
Trevor that after seeing that he had a master’s degree from his
resume. Apparently, it still tickled him that Trevor applied with such
qualifications, given he wouldn’t stop saying it.

Trevor searched for the source of the voice and saw the older
man behind a large pine. He seemed to be struggling with it. Trevor
rushed forward and grabbed the tree from him, putting it down.

“What are you doing, Connor? Your hand is still in a sling. Do

you want to stay in it forever?” he scolded.

Connor’s blue eyes twinkled with laughter. “Oh, quit your

worrying. You educated types are always so naggy.”

Trevor almost rolled his eyes. It had taken a bit of begging to

get Connor to hire him, despite his overqualification. He didn’t
exactly think his move through properly. Finishing his masters had
been tough for him after finding out that his girlfriend was cheating
on him. Apparently, she had been doing so since the beginning of
their relationship.
 When he finished, he just wanted to move, get a fresh start
somewhere with a nice job, and rebuild his life. The problem was, he
did this in the last week of November. He’d gone to turn in his
applications to different jobs in the first week of December.

All the companies he applied to were going on holiday, so it was

not a great time to be a new hire. He had to wait till after Christmas
to hear back from most of them. This left him unemployed, and
since he had spent a lot on his move, it meant he was also broke.

He decided to work for Connor to make enough to survive the

holidays and wait period before he found a job. It was something he
could do with his body, and it was the perfect job for Christmas,
keeping him busy and his pockets full. They were selling trees fast.

Connor tapped his arm. “You’re very strong for a nerd.”

Trevor chuckled. The man said it like it was surprising every

time. Trevor was twenty-eight and took care of himself as he
approached his prime. He worked out to stay healthy, but somehow
it had come in handy getting him a job lifting trees.

“What were you doing with the pine, anyway?” He shrugged off
the earlier comment.

“I was just trying to move it back,” Connor said. “Some lovey-

dovey couple came by to check the trees. They almost picked this
one, but they settled for a spruce instead.”

Trevor remembered the couple he’d seen on his way down. So,
they did get a tree from Connor.

“You should have just waited for me. I hope you didn’t lift the
spruce for them, too.”

Connor waved his worry away. “Nah, they lifted it together. You
should have seen it. They were sickly sweet.”
 Trevor smiled. He didn’t need to imagine what they were like
since he’d seen them, too. It was cute, and he was jealous.

“You got anybody special this Christmas?” Connor asked

conversationally, looking over his pine branches to make sure he
hadn’t broken any in his stubborn attempt to lift it.

Trevor scowled involuntarily and Connor caught it before he

could hide his expression. The older man barked a short laugh.

“Oh dear, seems like there’s a story there.”

“Not one I want to tell,” Trevor grumbled, ignoring him and

going to grab the truck keys so that he could start his workday.

“It’s not good to spend Christmas alone, you know? Gives you a
nasty attitude!” Connor called after him.

“Oh? What’s your excuse, then?”

He slammed the truck door with Connor’s laughter still reaching

his ears. Connor was married, so he wouldn’t be alone for Christmas,
unlike him. He’d lost hope in finding love despite not wanting to be
single.

To think I would be the Grinch.

 Chapter Three

Brrr, it's so darn cold out.

Abigale was on her way to work, and the weather had taken a turn
for the worse. Her nose felt frozen again, and she almost worried it
might fall off in this bitter cold. Every breath she took seemed to
pierce her lungs. She cursed herself for not bringing her heavier
coat.

At least I don’t have to walk far.

The actual time she had to be outside was brief because her
apartment was just a stone's throw away from the store. But the
weather these past days was nothing like she had seen before. Even
stepping outside for a moment would give you chills to your core.
This weather was unbearable, and she couldn't fathom the idea of
walking any significant distance in this frigid storm.

The radio in the store confirmed her fears as it reported on a

major blizzard that had seemingly come out of nowhere. The thick
snowfall outside painted a clear picture of the chaos it was causing.

Abigale sighed as she gazed out of the window, watching the

snow dance in the cold air.
 And then, she noticed him.

A man stood in front of the store; his car parked haphazardly.

Frustration was evident in his body language as he slammed the car
door, kicking the tire a few times, and placing his hands on his hips.

As their eyes locked through the shop window, he headed

towards the store.

The bell above the door jingled as he entered, shaking off the
snow that had settled on his coat. Abigale watched him take off his
hood, revealing a handsome face.

Oh dang, that’s one tall piece of eye candy.

He was 6’2 with chiseled features and a face she wouldn’t

have been surprised to see on the big screen. His dark, disheveled
hair framed his face, and his piercing blue eyes no doubt made
many women swoon.

"Hello," he greeted, a warm, friendly smile on his face even

as he heaved a heavy exhale dipped in frustration.

“Hey…” Abigale craned her neck to look at the car parked

outside again. "You seemed a bit frustrated… You stuck out there?"

“Ah, you saw that.” The man pressed his lips together,
throwing her a charming, embarrassed smile. "Yes. Unfortunately,
my car won't start, and I've got nowhere to stay."

“Mm.” Abigale nodded. “It’s cold out there. You can keep me
company in here for a bit.”

"I can't thank you enough," he said gratefully, brushing the

snow off his broad shoulders. "I'm Daniel, by the way."
 "I'm Abigale. Nice to meet you," she said, continuing her
work.

Daniel took a seat in the small store as they began discussing

the unexpected blizzard that had trapped him outside.

“I should be on my way home now,” he said. “This weather is

nuts!”

“Yeah… you can’t even go to the inn. It’s too far to walk in
this snow.”

"Reckon you don't have a spare bed for a stray model," Daniel
teased, his eyes twinkling. "Or we could share yours?”

Abigale chuckled, her laughter filling the cold store. "A model,
huh? Aren't you a bit too old for that?"

Daniel dramatically gasped, clutching his chest. "I'm only

thirty!"

Grinning, she teased, "Oh dear, that's ancient."

He laughed good-naturedly. "And you? You don't look a day

over twenty-five."

Good guess.

"That's because I am twenty-five."

"Oh wow," he said with a smirk. "Seems I have skill with

guessing."

He’s funny.. and smooth.

Their playful banter continued, and Abigale respected Daniel’s

ability to make people feel at ease with him.
 He continued to flirt and compliment her, making her laugh.
Despite her reservations about strangers, there was something in his
demeanor that made her feel comfortable.

“Your beauty puts the perfect snowflake that first fell this
winter to shame,” he said.

"Okay," she finally said, feeling a slight heat in her cheeks.

"Just give it a rest. I have a couch. You don't need to sleep with
me."

Daniel grinned, clearly happy to have secured a place to

sleep. Still, his eyes twinkled with humor. "You say that like I
wouldn't want to." Abigale instantly felt her cheeks get red hot from
the thought! She quickly turned away and gave a nervous laugh
while trying to hide her reaction.

A feeling of uncertainty lingered in the back of Abigale’s mind.

She wasn't one for one-night stands, and having a stranger stay in
her apartment was certainly out of her comfort zone. However,
Daniel's charm and his kind demeanor warmed her up to the idea.

What could be so bad about having a stranger sleep on the

couch in my living room, especially during this unexpected blizzard?
 Chapter Four

The day had taken a twist Trevor hadn't anticipated. He was at

work, hauling in potted trees to protect them from the unexpected
blizzard that had descended upon the city. The storm was making
everything difficult, and it was quite a lonely job, especially when
Connor didn't show up at the shop.

As Trevor headed out front to dispose of the broken branches

and fallen leaves in the trash, he noticed someone from the shop
next door, which sold Christmas decorations, stepping out. Her
presence seemed to light up the gray day, and it was as if a ray of
sunshine had broken through the snowstorm.

She was a stunning brunette with green eyes that captivated

him from the moment they locked gazes. He was still catching his
breath as they exchanged smiles.

"So, you're the one in the tree shop?" she asked, her voice
warm and inviting.

"And you're the one in the decorations shop," Trevor replied.

"Funny how we've never met."

She laughed, a melodious sound that warmed his heart.

"Yeah, I’m used to always seeing a gruff old man over there."
 Ha! Connor would throw a fit if he heard that.

Trevor couldn't help but chuckle at her description. "Oh, you

probably mean Connor. Yeah, he's the owner... I'm new."

"Well hello, Mr. New… I'm Abigale."

Her name sounded like music to Trevor’s ears. "Haha, well

hopefully Abigale like’s new things.” He said with a sly flirty smile.

Abigale instantly smiled and blushed. "Well, maybe someday

we will find out..."

He couldn't resist a grin. "The name is Trevor."

He intended to say more, to keep the conversation flowing,

but the door to Abigale's shop swung open once again. An irritating
voice, one that he recognized all too well, reached his ears.

"Hey Gorgeous, what's taking so long?"

Trevor met this intruder’s gaze, and a rush of memories

flooded his mind.

I know this idiot.

Daniel, a guy from college, an old acquaintance, and not a

good one. He'd been unserious with his studies, and Trevor
remembered all too clearly how he'd screwed him over during a
group project.

The jerk.

Trevor been sick and unable to present the project. He

trusted Daniel to handle the presentation since he didn’t do any
work on the actual project anyway. It was a huge mistake. Daniel
had stolen his work and claimed that Trevor contributed nothing. He
passed the class, and Trevor failed.
 Trevor had never spoken to him again. He didn’t think he’d
see him again after school. Unfortunately, life clearly had other plans
as Daniel sauntered forward to drape an arm over Abigale’s
shoulders.

"Well, hello, old friend," Daniel greeted, offering a sly smile

and a condescending pat on Trevor’s shoulder. "I see you met my
new friend."

Trevor’s stomach churned at his arrogance and the

unwelcome memory of their past. “What are you doing here?” he
asked through gritted teeth.

Daniel beamed. "Oh, I just happened to be visiting the area.

Trying to get a feel for the city, you know? I'll be starring in a movie
soon. It’s set in a city like this one, so I came to do research."

Trevor didn't care about the film or the fact that they’d run
into each other. He was more focused on Abigale and how Daniel
had managed to slip his arm around her.
Even as Daniel rattled on about getting bored of his success
as a model and looking to break into acting, Trevor wondered how
he knew her and why they seemed so close. She was a beautiful
woman and seemed genuinely kind and warm. She didn’t deserve to
be involved with a rat like Daniel.

He’d only just met her, but Trevor had already felt drawn to
her. Maybe he would have asked her out if Daniel hadn’t shown up.

Ask her out to where? There’s a frickin blizzard right now.

Trevor sighed. It seemed it wasn’t meant to be. “It was nice

to meet you,” he smiled at Abigale one last time, before returning to
the shop.

He finished work quickly and headed home, the short trek

down the empty road to his place feeling like ice needles were
stabbing his skin. He was right on his porch when the power
suddenly went out. Trevor opened the door to a dark apartment,
quickly shutting the door to keep the last of the warm air from
escaping if only for a few moments.

This day couldn't get any worse.

 Chapter Five

Three days later.

It had been three days since that unexpected snowstorm. Abigale’s

ordinary uneventful life had been hit with an unwanted challenge
and change of pace.

As she stood in her kitchen, savoring the warmth of her

coffee mug, she looked out the window at the sea of snow that
blanketed the city. The blizzard had lasted a full day and knocked
out the power for five long hours. She had a fireplace, but there was
no wood. She’d been too reliant on the heater.

During that time, Abigale had no choice but to huddle

together with Daniel for warmth, holding him in thick coats and
blankets in the dimly lit living room as the temperature inside
dropped. She realized how Hallmarky the moment was... as did
Daniel who kicked the flirting up a notch just to suffer from many
failed attempts. Now was not the time. She was not interested in
experimenting in ‘the physical ways of getting warm’ as Daniel had
proposed.

Such a boy brain...

Daniel had been more relaxed since the blizzard, taking it as

an opportunity to get closer to her. A sly grin appeared on his face
as he entered the kitchen.
 "Good morning," he greeted with a cheeky grin.

"Morning," Abigale replied, offering him a cup of coffee.

Once the power returned, things had become more

manageable, but they were still snowed in. When the storm ended,
they’d ventured outside to find knee-high snow covering everything.
Everyone trudged through, creating pathways in the snow like mole
trails.

After a whole day stuck inside, everyone made their way to

the corner store. Abigale quickly found and paid for enough supplies
to stock up her apartment. After her shopping was complete, she
helped the people in her building and those from the houses close
by carry their provisions home as well. They all took enough for
several days, just in case the blizzard got worse.

The city authorities had declared that snowplows would be

dispatched soon, bringing with them the promise of normalcy. To
make movement easier, they took turns shoveling to create trails to
each house at least. As she worked to help everyone, Abigale had
felt a newfound sense of purpose. Helping people who were in
distress made her feel fulfilled.

Maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something

more.

She took her coffee to the window again and looked out at
the small community waking up. They were all coming out of their
houses. She looked towards where they were headed, in front of her
building, and her eyes locked on a familiar figure.

Trevor.

He was out there, chopping trees into firewood, helping

ensure that people had enough to keep warm. Their eyes met when
he looked up, and they shared a wave. Abigale’s cheeks flushed as
she watched him work. Trevor the tree shop guy. He was an
attractive, kind-hearted man who'd been so helpful during the
aftermath of the storm.

He's absolutely gorgeous.

He'd called his boss and managed to get permission to use

several trees for firewood, ensuring that everyone would have fuel to
keep their fireplaces going if the power went out again.

Abigale blushed. It wasn’t just his helpful nature that made

her interested in him though. They’d only shared a few
conversations since they met, but each time, Abigale felt her heart
thumping in her chest. Blonde hair, light brown eyes, and a muscular
6’3 frame. He was nice to look at… Out there chopping wood in the
snow, he looked like a Viking or something.

Just as she was lost in her thoughts, Daniel came up behind

her. He wrapped his arm around her waist, a possessive gesture that
hadn't been there before. He'd been making more physical advances
recently, and Abigale was starting to feel somewhat smothered.

"What are you looking at?" he asked, looking out the window
with her.

Abigale shifted uncomfortably under his arm as she noticed

Trevor look away and go back to his task. She hated that it seemed
like Daniel was putting a boundary between them. She hadn’t slept
with Daniel, but not for his lack of trying… It was unsettling how
hard he was trying to weasel into her life.

“Nothing,” she said, moving away from him and going to

lounge on the couch.

If Daniel noticed that she was trying to get away from him, he
didn’t react to it, instead following her with his eyes. He made a
frame with his hands, looking through them at her as he mimicked a
camera.

"Just like that… wow… I wish I had my camera… It's so crazy

how you simply existing can create a money shot."

Abigale pressed her lips together. About a day ago Daniel

started saying she had the potential to be a model, claiming that he
could speak with his agent to get her a job. It was a proposition that
both intrigued and unnerved her. She’d never tried it before, and
wanting to excel or find her own thing, the thought of a career in
modeling was enticing. Still, something inside kept warning her to
stay cautious.

Can I really trust him?

Abigale chuckled, trying to brush off the compliment. "Oh,

come on, Daniel. Just sit down."
 Chapter Six

Two weeks later

Trevor pulled on his heaviest coat with a sigh. After chopping wood
for everyone in the aftermath of the first snowstorm, he’d thought
they’d be set even if there was another and they had to stay in for a
few days. He was wrong. He’d been snowed in for two weeks.

It had finally stopped storming enough to go outside and

Trevor opened his door to find a wall of snow. He grabbed his shovel
and got to work.

As he emerged from the house, bracing himself for the

relentless chill, he dialed Connor’s number. The older man lived two
blocks away, so he wasn’t part of their little survival effort, but
allowed Trevor to use some trees for wood.

"Morning, Connor," Trevor said, a small smile gracing his lips.

Connor was a gruff but good-hearted man.

“Morning, Trevor," he replied in his deep voice.

"Look, I've been thinkin' about those trees you gave out for
firewood," Trevor said, his words punctuated by the frosty air. "I'll
pay for 'em, of course, once we get out of this mess."
 Connor took a while before he responded, "Don't you worry
'bout that, lad. We're all in this together."

Trevor nodded, grateful for the understanding. It was a relief

to know that this small community had a spirit of giving, especially in
times like these.

The moment he stepped outside his gate, Trevor realized that

he wasn't the only one eager to venture into the snow-laden world
once more. The neighboring houses seemed to emit a shared sense
of purpose, the inhabitants finally emerging from their sanctuaries.
Trevor had gotten to know everyone as he provided them with
firewood.

The young family of four living a few doors down had a baby on the
way. The stress of the storm had brought on false labor which filled
them with anxiety. They were new to the city and had been caught
unprepared by the blizzard. The elderly couple, probably in their
seventies, had weathered countless storms together and shared
their wisdom, offering comfort to the younger ones.

There was also the couple he’d seen carrying the spruce
before. They had recently moved into the charming blue house down
the street. They seemed perpetually smitten with each other, lost in
a world of their own. Their giddy laughter and constant public
displays of affection were equal parts endearing and nauseating.

The old man with his walker, a frequent sight on the streets during
better weather, had been an unexpected addition to the group. His
stories of yesteryears were a source of both amusement and
inspiration.

The mailman, who had taken refuge in the community, and

maintained his professional demeanor even in these trying times.
Then Esther, the amiable girl from the coffee shop next door, had
been the source of free hot chocolates and warmth in these cold
times.
 Trevor couldn't shake the feeling of isolation. Being alone in
the house was unbearable, especially when the power had gone out
for three days now. His phone battery was running low, and he had
to conserve it for communication and emergencies.

The sight that awaited him at the tree shop filled him with
mixed emotions. The spirit of Christmas, that time of joy and
celebration, seemed to be a distant memory. Instead, our city was
buried beneath mounds of snow, and everyone was at risk of going
hungry.

Amongst the crowd that had gathered there, Trevor’s gaze

fixed on one person, as it always did.

Abigale.

She was a vision of loveliness, her beauty stark in the depressing

landscape. Her presence never failed to make his heart race, but she
wasn't alone.

Ugh, this jerk again?

She stood beside Daniel, whose face marked with an unmistakable

annoyance. Trevor couldn't fathom what she saw in him, other than
perhaps his charming veneer. He couldn't help but frown as he
observed them. There was something off about Daniel, a sense of
selfishness that he couldn't hide.

The neighbors were discussing the dwindling amount of wood

they had for the fires, even with the contributions Trevor had made.

"We’re almost out of wood… my old bones can’t take this

cold,” the husband of the old couple said.

Others chimed in mirroring their comments and as the crowd grew

pensive, Trevor couldn't ignore the desire to help.
"I'll give more wood for the fire, for everyone," he declared, his voice
carrying over the hushed conversations. The trees had been his
contribution thus far, and he felt a need to make them as
comfortable as he could.

"I promise we will pay you back once the blizzard clears up,"
the pregnant wife said. "We are very grateful."

Trevor appreciated their willingness to make it right, but it was more

about supporting one another in these trying times.

As the conversation turned to the need for food, the gravity of their
situation weighed on them all. The corner store, which had once
been our lifeline, had been depleted. Only a week remained until
Christmas, and the looming threat of starvation was far from festive.

"I'm down to a can of soup and some crackers," the elderly man
with the walker admitted.

The spruce tree couple chimed in, their laughter gone. "We
never thought we'd say this, but we miss eating out at restaurants."

The mailman reluctantly added, "I can't brew another pot of

coffee with what's left."

The situation was indeed dire, and the necessity of acquiring

food weighed heavily on everyone's minds.

Abigale spoke up. "My phone's GPS is showing a grocery store

just three blocks away.”

The hope of acquiring fresh provisions brought a spark of

optimism, even as the waist-high snow and obstructive drifts
seemed daunting. The snow plows they had been promised never
came, leaving them to fend for themselves.
 It will take quite some time to shovel a pathway.

“I’ll go to the store,” Trevor volunteered. “But we’ll need a

plan for clearing the road. My truck does well in the snow, but this is
too much."

“Can we try fitting a makeshift plow to the front of the truck?”

the mailman suggested.

Hmm, now that’s an idea.

The men banded together to make it a reality, and Trevor got

into the driver’s seat to give it a try.

Here goes nothing…

As he turned the ignition and tried to move, the truck faced a

little resistance, but after he eased more strength into the
accelerator, it moved forward and cleared the snow in front of it off
the road.

“Yay!” Abigale squealed in delight, giggling happily.

Oh my good Lord..

Trevor would give anything to go back in time and do that

again, just to see her reaction one more time.

“Well, I guess I have some groceries to get,” he said out the

window and waved as he received the list and money Esther had
gathered from everyone. “Now is a good time since it’s still early
afternoon. Let me get to it fast.”

Everyone waved back at Trevor, and it seemed to him like

Abigale waved hardest.
 Chapter Seven

It was the next day after Trevor made the trip to get the groceries,
and the sun struggled to cast its weak, cold light into the small
apartment. Abigale hadn't slept much the previous night, thanks to a
restless feeling in her gut. She had been thinking about Trevor and if
he was safe since he hadn’t returned yet.

"No, no, no, no!"

Before she could even fully wake up from her slumber,

Daniel’s voice rang out, shattering the fragile morning peace.

"No, no!" he shouted again, his frustration evident.

Startled, Abigale stumbled out of the bedroom and into the

living room, her half-asleep mind struggling to grasp the situation.
He was pacing, his phone in hand, rapidly tapping the screen.

"What's going on?" she asked, concern lacing her words. It

was early, and she hadn't fully shaken off the effects of a bad night's
sleep.

Daniel looked up, his eyes wide with alarm. "The movie,
Abigale, the movie! They're starting filming tomorrow. I need to get
on the next plane home, or they're going to cast my understudy
instead of me. I can't let that happen!"

Abigale’s heart sank as she realized the gravity of his words.

This was the big break he had been waiting for, and she couldn't
help but feel a pang of regret. His career was at stake.

With haste, he hurriedly booked a flight on his phone and

gathered his belongings. He pulled her into a frantic embrace. "We
need to go, Abigale. Your modeling gig depends on it as well. If I
mess up with this movie, my friend won't talk to me anymore, and I
won't be able to introduce you to him."

It was a whirlwind of emotion, and Abigale found herself

being pulled along in its chaotic current. Daniel's desperation was
palpable, and it was impossible not to empathize with him. She felt
he was trying to do right by her, and she appreciated his efforts, but
Abigale wasn't sure how to tell him that she wasn't as eager about
the modeling prospect as he seemed to think.

She was about to tell him she had no idea how they would
even begin going to the airport when the commotion outside drew
their attention. They both headed to the window curiously.

Through the frosty glass, Abigale saw Trevor's truck

approaching. Relief washed over her once she saw him.

Oh my goodness! I can’t believe I forgot!

Abigale, much like everyone else, had been concerned when Trevor
didn’t come back the day before, after venturing out to the
convenience store for them. That was why she’d slept so badly.

"Daniel, look, Trevor's back with the food," she said, and
pointed at the truck pulling up to the front of the building.
Abigale had momentarily forgotten about Trevor’s mission since
Daniel's emergency had taken precedence in her half-awake mind.

Daniel's eyebrows knitted with concern as he watched Trevor's truck

pull in. His eyes darted between Abigale and the vehicle.

"I think Trevor's truck works," he said and at first she didn’t
understand, but then realization dawned on her.

"He seems to like you, Abigale," Daniel said, with a cunning

glint in his eyes. "You should ask him to help us out. If I ask him,
he’d definitely say no, but he might be willing to give you a ride."

Abigale frowned slightly, uncomfortable with Daniel's

suggestion. Trevor had already done so much for the little
community, risking his life to ensure they had food. It seemed a bit
much to ask for another favor so soon.

“Everyone is gathering to greet him… let’s go outside first,”

she said, pushing her discomfort away. She needed to see Trevor
first.

They hurriedly threw on coats and went outside to find that

everyone had already circled him.

“Did you sleep at all?” the pregnant lady asked, concerned.

Trevor chuckled, nodding his head as he responded, "Yes,

don’t worry. I slept at the inn because it was dark by the time I was
done. The wind had picked up, causing poor visibility due to the
blowing snow, making the newly plowed roads very slippery. So, I
decided to wait and drive back in the morning."

Trevor's efforts had not gone unnoticed as everyone thanked

him over and over.
 “I’ll be able to brew coffee again. Thanks Trevor,” the mailman
said.

Abigale watched as they started unloading the precious cargo

from his truck, and the smiles and expressions of relief were
heartwarming.

Yet, in the midst of all this, Daniel's gaze never left her,
pressuring her silently to do what he’d asked.

Abigale was about to take a step towards Trevor when the

pregnant woman cried out in fear and held onto her husband in
sheer panic. The urgency in her voice sliced through the air, and
everyone froze.

“What’s wrong?” someone asked.

As everyone watched, liquid dripped down the woman’s legs,

quickly freezing in the snow.

Oh no!

"No! My water just broke!" The woman’s strained screams

held fear and horrified tears.

"But that’s impossible. Your only 28 weeks, it’s way too early!
What do we do?" Her husband held her by the shoulders as she
struggled to hold herself up.

Panic spread like wildfire through the crowd. They were

trapped with no medical professionals close by. Unlike the
convenience store, the hospital was too far to walk to. They needed
to drive, and fast.

The old man spoke up. "Someone can drive you to the
hospital in my car. It's still working. Trevor just got back from getting
the groceries. He needs rest."
 But the old man's car was small, barely enough for two
people. Trevor, who had been watching the scene unfold, stepped
forward without hesitation.

"No, it’s fine. I'll take you," he said to the pregnant woman
and her husband. "Let's go."

So selfless

In a rush of desperation, the three of them quickly climbed

into Trevor's truck, and he sped away, leaving the rest of us in a
state of shock.

The only person who didn’t seem affected by what had just
happened was Daniel. Instead, he was looking after the truck, visibly
upset.

Oh… right! He needed the truck.

Abigale tried to touch his arm comfortingly, but he moved

away, his gaze heavy with disappointment.

I gotta help him.

She turned to the old man hesitantly. “Um, sir, are you still
okay with lending out your car? I really need to go to the airport.”

“The airport? That’s far… you’d need to get gas for a trip that
long. Would you be okay to stop along the way?”

Abigale beamed. “Not at all, sir!” She turned back to Daniel,

expecting to see joy or at least gratitude, but he just looked upset,
tapping at his phone.

With the keys in hand, Daniel and Abigale made their way to
the old man's car. She took the driver’s seat while he hurriedly put
his things in the car. As they prepared to head out, Abigale couldn't
shake an unnerving feeling in her core.
 Chapter Eight

Trevor

Please, let us make it in time.

Trevor prayed as he drove through the snowbound city, his
mind a whirlwind of emotions. His truck had proven to be a reliable
companion on my way to the groceries, and it remained so as he
found himself racing against time, transporting the terrified couple to
the hospital.

The woman, her face twisted in pain, moaning while she

clutched her belly. Her husband’s face was white as a snow as he
fought to maintain his composure. He started to pray out loud...“Oh
God! Help us! We’ve done this before but never this early, please
God protect this baby and my strong beautiful wife” They were still
quite young, thankfully this was not their first baby.

The man's voice quivered as he spoke. "I just wanted to take

care of her, make her happy. Nothing bad is supposed to happen at
Christmas."

Trevor could hear the desperation in his words, and he wished

there was more he could do to help. The image of the woman's pain
was etched in his mind, and I couldn't bear to see them suffer.

I have to help somehow... say something dang it!

 "Where's your Christmas spirit, huh?" he found himself
saying, trying to offer some comfort. "You gotta believe. Nothing bad
will happen."

The words spilled out of his mouth, surprising even Trevor. He

had been the Grinch of the season, brooding in his isolation. Yet, in
that moment, with the couple needing hope, he couldn't help but let
a glimmer of optimism break through.

In the tense atmosphere of the truck, Trevor couldn't help but

feel the weight of their fear. It was a stark reminder that there were
things far more important than his grievances and problems. The
possibility of this couple losing their first child overshadowed any
concerns he had carried.

What's your Christmas wish, Trevor?

The thought flashed through his mind as he drove, a question

that had no easy answer. Maybe, just maybe, it was to make sure
this couple's wish came true. For them, Trevor was willing to make a
wish.

I wish we would make it in time and that the mother and

baby make it.

“We’re almost there,” Trevor said.

As they reached the hospital, he pulled into the parking area

with a screech of the truck’s tires. The couple rushed out of the car,
the man's voice breaking as he urged his wife forward. Trevor
watched them disappear into the hospital as the healthcare workers
came out to help them, his heart heavy with worry.

“Please let everything be okay,” Trevor prayed under his

breath as he ran into the hospital after parking properly.
 An hour passed, and he sat in the waiting area with the
husband, the moments stretching into eternity.

Finally, the doctor emerged, clad in white and wearing an

exhausted but relieved expression. Trevor’s heart raced as they
stood up to meet him.

"Are they okay?" the husband asked, his voice trembling.

The doctor offered us a reassuring smile. "Both mother and

child are safe. It was a premature birth, but they made it through."

Relief washed over them like a warm wave, and Trevor

couldn't contain his emotions. The husband hugged him, and he was
a bit taken aback by the unexpected display of gratitude.

"Thank you," the man said, his voice choked with emotion.

Trevor didn't know how to respond to his gratitude. All he had

done was offer a helping hand, but to them, it had made all the
difference.

"I think you should thank the doctor too," he chuckled.

The husband’s eyes filled with tears, his gratitude palpable.

"You're a lifesaver," he said to the doctor, his voice quivering. “Can
we see her?” he asked.

“Yes, of course. She’s asking for you,” the doctor replied. “I

should also say Congratulations on your new baby girl!”

“A girl!” The proud father's face beamed with joy.

Trevor and the husband followed the doctor and soon saw the
most tiny but beautiful baby girl. This helpless little baby was hooked
up to all sorts of tubes and bundled up snugly in her incubator
sleeping beside her mother. His heart swelled at the sight.
 The mother’s eyes lit up as they came in and her husband
rushed to her side and kissed her forehead.

“Thank you, Trevor,” she whispered weakly.

“It’s fine. Anyone would have done the same,” Trevor said. “I
should get going now. Everyone will be worried sick.”

They say their goodbyes and with a light heart, Trevor left the
hospital, feeling a sense of renewal within him.

Maybe… just maybe, this Christmas still has some magic to

give.

It wasn't about material possessions or personal desires. It

was about spreading cheer, lending a helping hand, and being
grateful for life.
The drive back was less grueling, Trevor’s thoughts filled with
the image of the couple cradling their newborn child. It was a stark
reminder that life was a precious gift, and it was meant to be
celebrated, even in the darkest of times.

As he drove past the gas station, he noticed a familiar figure

standing by the side of the road. Abigale was there, her expression a
mix of surprise and relief as she spotted his approaching truck.

What’s she doing here?

Trevor’s heart raced as he slowed down and came to a stop in front

of her. She opened the truck door, her grateful smile doing little to
change the sad countenance of her face as she climbed in.

"Thank you. I can't believe I ran into you here," she said, her
voice filled with relief. "How is the couple? Did you make it in time?”

Trevor smiled. "Yes, we did. They had a baby girl! A little

Christmas miracle."
 Her face lit up with joy, and he could see that the story had
touched her. "That's wonderful, Trevor. I'm so glad you were there to
help them."

He nodded, grateful for her understanding. "Not to be corny,

but it made me feel some Christmas cheer after all. Lending a
helping hand."

“You’re right… just making sure to lend it to the right people.”

Trevor cocked his head to the side at her phrasing. "So, what were
you doing at the gas station, Abigale?"

Abigale fell quiet, and an uncomfortable silence filled the

truck.
 Chapter Nine

As she pondered how to answer Trevor’s

question, a mix of emotions swirled within Abigale. The relief of
being rescued from the gas station was undeniable, but beneath
that, there was a lingering sense of embarrassment and frustration.

Trevor's eyes were fixed on her, waiting for the story she was
about to share. He had been such a source of comfort and support
through the blizzard, and as her savior, he deserved to know the
whole truth.

She looked down at her lap, took a deep breath, and finally
met his gaze.

Abigale began, her voice tinged with embarrassment, "Daniel

and I borrowed the old man’s car to go to the airport because he
has a flight for today."

She could see the surprise in Trevor's eyes as a frown started

to form and felt a tinge of self-blame for not seeing through Daniel's
schemes earlier.
 "I was trying to fill up the gas in the car when we got to a gas
station," Abigale continued, "Daniel was driving, and I wanted to be
helpful but when I closed the gas tank after filling up, he... he just
drove off."

As she spoke the words, the memory of that moment hit her
again like a wave. The shock, the disbelief, the feeling of
helplessness—it all came rushing back.

I feel so stupid.

Abigale saw Trevor's eyes narrow with anger and his face
contorted with a mix of emotions, and she couldn't help but feel
guilty.

“What kind of person does that?” Trevor wondered aloud

angrily.

But Abigale wasn’t done. "I tried to run after the car," she
confessed, her voice trembling, "but it was too late. The snow and
cold made it impossible to catch up. I was left standing there, feeling
stupid and helpless."

I should have known better.

“I know I should have been smarter. I should not have been too
quick to trust him,” she admitted.

"I’m sorry Abigale, you couldn’t have known," Trevor said, his
voice filled with regret, "I should've warned you about Daniel. He's
not... well, he's not the most reliable person. We went to the same
college, and our history working together wasn’t great either."

Trevor took a deep breath and continued, " When I got paired
with the unserious pretty boy in class, I figured it was okay and I
could just carry the project alone. He was useless to me, but
seemed nice enough."
 His pause was deliberate, allowing the weight of his words to
settle in. Abigale could see the seriousness in his eyes.
"I happened to fall sick right when the project was due, and
Daniel was texting me a lot. I was a bit peeved, to be honest, how
ready he was to just stand beside me and take credit for work he
didn’t do, but I just let it slide. I was too weak to leave my dorm, so
I just sent him everything and told him to do the presentation. I
figured he could at least do that part, since he didn’t do anything
else," Trevor explained.

He gripped the wheel a little tighter. "I don’t know what got
into him. He had no reason to sabotage me like that, but he did. He
told the professor he worked on the project alone and was
presenting alone since I didn’t even bother showing up. I don’t think
I’ve ever been that upset in my life.

I worked hard on it, so it was a great project. Daniel got an A,

and the professor gave me an F. It was too late to do anything about
it. I had to take the course again. I tried confronting Daniel, but he
just acted like he didn’t know why the professor did that. That’s
when I knew he was a snake and kept my distance."

As Trevor shared his story, Abigale felt a new surge of anger

towards Daniel. Trevor's experience shed light on the kind of selfish
person Daniel truly was, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of
kinship with Trevor.

Abigale reached out and placed her hand on Trevor's arm. "I
had no idea, Trevor. I'm so sorry," she said, her voice filled with
genuine empathy.

Trevor's smile in response to her words was filled with

gratitude. "It's not your fault, Abigale. You couldn’t have known.
Instead, I’m the one who should have warned you. I just wasn’t sure
how it would be received for how close you two were."
 “We weren’t close at all,” she gritted out. “He just liked to
make it seem that way.”

“Well. I’m glad to hear that.”

Is he flirting with me?

Abigale cocked her head to the side, regarding Trevor. He

didn’t seem to be teasing her.

She relaxed into her seat.

As they continued their drive, Abigale’s sour mood slowly

eased. When she’d been left standing in the snow, she was sure that
her Christmas was ruined. She imagined that she would need to
trudge through the snow to find the closest place to take shelter
until someone could pick her up.

How hard it would be to go home, and the fact that she

would be alone, not even in her own apartment. But Trevor had
saved her. He was a rather gorgeous-looking Christmas present.

But there was still the issue of the old man’s car, which Daniel
had driven off with. Abigale’s worry about the car was evident.

"Abigale," Trevor said, breaking the silence that had settled

between them, "We'll go pick up the old man’s car at the airport
later. It'll be okay."

It’s as if he can read my mind.

His words filled her with gratitude, and she couldn't help but
smile warmly at him. "Thank you, Trevor. You've been so kind to me.
I really appreciate it."

As they arrived back at the town, the people gathered outside

and welcomed them back with a mixture of relief and curiosity.
Abigale was a bit hesitant to share the truth about Daniel, but Trevor
offered her reassurance.

"Don't worry, Abigale," he said with a reassuring smile.

"They're good people. They'll understand."

With a nod, she followed Trevor out of the truck, and they
made their way towards the gathered crowd.

"Abigale, Trevor, you're back!" Esther exclaimed with a warm

smile. "We were getting worried."

As they joined everyone, Abigale couldn't help but feel a

sense of belonging. They were good people, and she hoped they
would be as understanding about her situation with Daniel as Trevor
had been.

Trevor took the lead, announcing the safe arrival of the

couple's newborn baby girl and the community's joy was palpable.
The relief and happiness in the air were contagious, and it was
heartwarming to see everyone come together to celebrate.

Abigale timidly walked up to the old man while they all talked
about the baby. “I’m sorry I’m not with your car.”

“I did wonder how you ended up with Trevor. What happened

to going to the airport? And where’s the handsome fella who went
with you? Don’t tell me it ran out of gas before you made it to the
station.” The old man seemed more concerned about my wellbeing
than his car.

She was grateful. “No, sir, we made it. He left me in the snow
after I filled up the tank.”

Somehow, the conversations had dwindled and everyone

turned in shock when my voice came out a bit louder than
expected.
 Esther's disappointment was evident as she expressed her
disbelief. The elderly couple hugged Abigale, and the young lovers
handed her a cup of coffee. The old man who owned the car,
reassured her that he wasn't upset.

“Don’t you worry, lassie," he said, "Blast that guy. They don’t
make men like they used to. Except for Trevor, of course."

They both shared a chuckle. “You should get with that one
instead,” the old lady whispered.

Abigale laughed and blushed. The community rallied around

her, and the sense of solidarity was heart-warming.

The day was drawing to a close, and everyone slowly began

to disperse, returning to their homes. Trevor and Abigale were left
standing together, the events of the day bringing them closer.

And she couldn't deny that there was something more

between them, something else beyond the shared experiences and
mutual support. Abigale had seen the way his gaze lingered and
knew that she wanted to give him a chance.

"Abigale," Trevor said, breaking the quiet moment that had

settled between them, "Would you like to spend Christmas
together?"

Her heart soared with joy at his words, and she smiled
brightly. "Yes, Trevor, I would love that."

As the snow continued to fall around them, their smiles

illuminated the wintry evening. Trevor's eyes sparkled and they
couldn't resist the magnetic pull, drawing them closer as he leaned
down.

With a gentle, unspoken understanding, Abigale leaned into

him, her heart racing with excitement, and their lips met in a soft,
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 "Then, there are hopes of a reformation. George, don't scowl in that
way; you are not handsome at any time, and when you scowl, least of all."

"Mary, you must see him no more."

"Him? explain: I hate enigmas."

"Lord * * * * I insist upon it."

"Now, don't be absurd, pray! Why should I not see a man old enough to
be my father?"

"But not too old to be your lover."

"The old story! What a queer creature you are! Why, who ever could
suppose there was danger in a man of his age—he hasn't an unbleached hair
on his head."

"Perhaps not; but a coronet hides that."

"Ha! ha! ha! Oh, you green-eyed monster! Really, you are capital fun,
though you don't mean it."

"Beware, beware!"

"Ah! now you are getting tragic ... have you an unloaded pistol about
you by chance?"

A dark smile passed over his face.

"Mary, listen to me: I am very serious. Laugh, if you please, at my

jealousy, but at any rate, acknowledge that I have a right to insist on a
cessation of his visits."

"I acknowledge nothing of the kind. Why am I to be deprived of seeing

whom I please? My husband does not object to my receiving Lord * * * *
why should you?"

"Because you take pleasure in those visits."

 "I do."

"They flatter you."

"They do."

"He flatters you."

"He is gallant enough to find my society agreeable—that is more than I

can say for yours at this moment."

"You think it a feather in your cap to have a worthless old nobleman

dangling after you."

"Perhaps I do; what then?"

"I will not allow it."

"Come, come; this is getting a little too imperious."

"I will not allow it, I say."

"Your permission is not necessary."

"I tell you it shall not be!"

"George—I am serious now—as you raise your voice—if you know me,
you must know that I may be persuaded to anything, but I am not to be
driven. Obstinacy may not be an amiable quality; but it is a quality which
belongs to me. Cease that tone of command therefore; you will get nothing
by it."

"I shall not cease that tone. I shall adopt any tone I please."

"Do so; then don't wonder if I refuse to listen to you."

"But, by God! you shall listen."

"Try me."
 Her eyes dilated as she said this, though her voice was perfectly calm.
She was getting almost as angry as he was. The spirit of opposition was
abetted by the resolution she had formed not to rebut the attentions of Lord
* * * *, and she now was roused for the struggle.

And yet, flattered as she undoubtedly was, by the admiration of the old
roué, she loved Maxwell well enough to have sacrificed that delight, had he
taken another course, had he implored instead of threatened; but that was
not in his nature, and his brutal imperiousness roused her to rebellion.

He had become livid with passion, and it was only with great effort that
he could articulate—

"Don't play with me ... you know not the danger ... I warn you ... I warn
you."

"And I laugh at your threats."

"You think I am not serious?"

"I do not care a straw whether you are serious or not."

"You are resolved then?"

"Quite."

"Oh, beware! beware! do not drive me to the last extremity...."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"By God!" he exclaimed, striking a small table with his fist.

"See," she said, "you have broken my china—a real bit of rococo; that's
what it is to be ungentlemanly and violent."

"Mary ... This is .... You are rushing to destruction! Look here; I am
almost mad ... but I know what I say ... choose whether you will obey me—
if you do not, as I live, I will blow your brains out, and then my own!"
 "Mr. Maxwell, if you think I am to be frightened by your ravings, if you
think I am to obey your ridiculous caprices, if you think you are to be my
master, you are egregiously mistaken. Leave the house: I hate you!"

Her look expressed her hate, as she said this.

He was convulsed; the veins started on his forehead; his chest heaved
laboriously, and his eyes were dilated with fury, but he uttered no sound.

"Your love is degradation! Your soul is as ignoble as your manners are

brutal! I have put up with this too long. I have been contaminated by your
presence, and now, I hate you!"

A sort of gurgle, like the death rattle, sounded in his throat; his face was
purple.

"I hate you!" she added. "Is that clear? Do you understand me now!"

With his eyes fixed horribly upon her furious countenance, he put his
handkerchief to his mouth; when he removed it, she saw that it was stained
with blood.

A sudden sickness overcame her, and she trembled.

He did not speak another word, but staggered rather than walked
towards the door. Slowly he descended the stairs, and with his handkerchief
still at his mouth reached home. The paroxysm of passion had burst a small
bloodvessel.

Left to herself, Mrs. Vyner sank on a couch shivering, and her teeth
chattering together from the combined effects of rage, excitement, and fear.

The heavy pall of a terrible doom seemed stretched over her future:
dark, mysterious, and awful. She shuddered as she thought of what had
passed, and only recovered a slight decree of calmness as the thought
occurred to her that perhaps that broken bloodvessel might put an end to
him!
 CHAPTER II.

LOVE NOT KILLED BY UNKINDNESS.

For what will love's exalting not go through,
'Till long neglect and utter selfishness
Shames the fond pride it takes in its distress?
LEIGH HUNT.—Rimini.

Cecil had removed to miserable lodgings at Hammersmith, consisting of

two rooms, and those wretchedly furnished; he had also reduced his
expenses by giving up his atélier, and was now, without pretence at
concealment, a gambler, and nothing else.

Blanche's grief when she first discovered his relapse was not so great as
might have been expected, simply because she had to defend him against
the bitter accusations of her father, and in the effort to excuse her husband
in the eyes of another, she succeeded in greatly excusing him in her own.

There were doubtless many sleepless nights she had to pass, moodily
contemplating the probable consequences of their fate; but when Cecil
came home, her sorrow fled. Either he had won, and then his gaiety
charmed her, and she allowed herself to be seduced into sharing his
sanguine expectations; or else he had lost, and then she had to comfort and
console him, and in that effort to assuage his grief, forgot her own.

There was something indescribably affecting in the tender solicitude

and unshaken love of this gentle creature for her wretched husband; she had
truly married him for better and for worse, in sickness and in health, in joy
and in sorrow, and no adversity could alter the current of that love, which
flowed from the everlasting fountain of her heart. He had blighted her
youth; he had blighted the existence of their child; but she loved him
perhaps still more dearly than on that happy day when the priest had joined
them at the altar. He had been weak, contemptible, even infamous; but he
had never ceased to be the idol of her heart.

One day she missed her watch; that watch which Cecil had given her,
and which had always been at her side. She hunted about the house for it.
All day she was in great distress at having lost it, and endeavoured in vain
to persuade herself that perhaps Cecil had taken it out with him. He
returned at two o'clock in the morning. Her first question was,

"Darling, have you my watch?"

"No," said he sulkily.

"Oh, dear! oh, dear! it is lost, then—I have lost it—some one has stolen
it!"

"Pooh! don't make a fuss—it's all right."

"Have you got it?'

"No; but I know where it is."

"Where?"

"In a place where it is quite safe—never fear!"

She understood him. He had pawned it, and the proceeds had gone
where every shilling went.

Another day she missed the baby's coral with its golden bells. This time
she said nothing; she knew too well what must have become of it, and she
burst into tears as she thought of the fearful situation of a father robbing his
own child to feed an infatuated passion!

One by one, every article upon which money could be raised had
disappeared, until he possessed literally nothing more than the clothes he
stood up in.
 It was in vain she argued with herself that he, as the master, had a right
to sell his own property, to sell anything and everything he pleased; she
could not drive away the idea of there being something sneaking in this
furtive disposal of his goods; an open sale might be necessitated, but this
silent disappearance by stealth of article after article was horrible. She
never knew what was gone until she wanted it; and at last her uneasiness
became so great that she trembled to seek the most trifling thing.

Blanche's eyes were not shut to all the weakness of her husband's
character, though her affection made her sophisticate with herself to an
extraordinary extent. She saw the deplorable effects of his infatuation, and
tried her best to wean him from it; but she always trusted that he would see
the folly of the pursuit, and that, after a certain amount of experience, he
would be cured. Meanwhile, that hope grew fainter and fainter, as time,
instead of lessening, seemed to increase his passion.

To Vyner, Julius, Rose, and Violet, it seemed perfectly

incomprehensible that Blanche should continue to love such a wretch as
Cecil.

"His conduct," Vyner would say, "is enough to have estranged an

angel."

Yet the fact is, that his conduct had not in the least degree alienated her
affection from him; and the explanation of this fact resides in the moral
axiom (the truth of which a large experience of human nature cannot fail to
illustrate), that affection depends upon character, not upon conduct.

We love those most with whom we sympathize most, not those from
whom we have received the greatest benefits. The husband who ill-treats
his wife (as people say) is often idolized, while the husband who idolizes
his wife is often looked upon as a "good sort of person" at the best. No
doubt, the ill-treated wife suffers from, and resents each act of ill-treatment;
as the kindly-treated wife is pleased and grateful for each act of kindness;
but in the one case, occasional acts cannot destroy that sympathy which is
the bond of love; nor in the other case, can the occasional kindnesses create
it. Again, I say it is character, not conduct, which creates affection.
 It was Cecil's character that Blanche sympathized with. His affectionate,
caressing manners—his gaiety, his cleverness, and as she thought genius,
were qualities the charm of which could not be resisted. Then he loved her
so truly! not enough, indeed, to forego, for her sake, the excitement of the
gaming-table: not enough to prevent his sacrificing her with himself to this
infatuation: but that was because he was incapable of self-mastery. And if
he was weak, she sympathized with his weakness.

Turn the phrase how we will, it always comes back to these simple
pregnant words: she loved him!

CHAPTER III.

CAPTAIN HEATH RETURNS.

O why, when Love doth wound, doth it not then
Strike deeper down—and kill!
Old Play.

There was not a farthing in the house. Cecil was out on the chimerical
expedition of borrowing a few pounds from one of his gaming-table
acquaintances. Continual assistance had been lent them by Vyner and by
Julius; but, of course, these sums were dissipated in the usual way; and so
recent had been the assistance, that even Cecil had not the face to apply
again.

Blanche was weeping over the cradle of her child, whom she had just
rocked asleep, when the door opened, and the servant put in her head to say,
—

"Please, mum, a gentleman."

 In another instant, Captain Heath stood before her with outstretched
hand, and embarrassed countenance: she grasped his hand in both of hers
and pressed it warmly, for she felt that a deliverer was near. Since last they
had met, what changes in her life! What had they both not undergone! He
was much thinner, and looked older. Sorrow had deeply lined his noble
brow, and dimmed his kind blue eye. He had sought in travel to forget the
cause of his voluntary exile; and had learned, if not to forget, at least to
master his feelings. When men have passed the impressionable and
changeable age of youth, love becomes a more serious and enduring
passion with them—it becomes consolidated in their manhood. And
Captain Heath—too old not to have lost all the volatility of youth, but still
too young to have lost its fervour—found that his passion for Blanche was
ineffaceable.

Had he, then, returned with any hopes? No; his was one of those strong,
brave, manly natures which know how to endure any calamity, any
condition, so soon as it is recognised as inevitable; they endure, without
childish repining, what they know must be endured; they brace their minds
to the struggle, and they conquer at least that weak and fretful anxiety
which attends upon those who cannot calmly look fate in the face.

He returned, but it was to watch over his beloved; and on his return,
what was his horror to hear of the situation into which her wretched
husband had precipitated her!

Blanche was embarrassed, yet delighted. From childhood she had

known him, and loved him almost as a father; and to her old affection there
was now added, the unconscious flattery of her knowledge of his love for
her. No woman is ever insensible to such flattery; the man who loves her,
though hopelessly, is always interesting in her eyes. Blanche was eminently
a woman.

"How kind of you to come and see us," she said, "and in such a place as
this! But then you are one of our true friends, and poverty cannot scare
you."

"Yes, Blanche, I am your friend: always remember that, and in any

difficulty, be sure not to forget it. But let me see your child: she is asleep?—
what a beauty! How you must love it! Dear little thing, how quiet its
breathing! may I kiss it? will she wake up?"

"No; kiss her gently: she is so used to it!"

He stooped down, and kissed its warm, soft cheek, and then gazed at it
for some minutes in silence. With a mother's pride, Blanche watched him,
occasionally looking down upon her darling, with that yearning tenderness,
which only mothers know.

A low sigh escaped from him as he turned away from the cradle.

"Have you been long in England?" she asked.

"I came home last week. This is my second visit."

"Your first was to papa, I suppose?"

"Yes. Things are in a sad state there, Blanche. Your father is very much
altered. But what could he expect? What could induce him to marry again?"

"Mama's conduct is shocking!—To think of a wife forgetting herself so!

—Did you see her?"

"Yes, and she was as civil to me as ever, talked as hypocritically—and

spoke of you in terms that made me excessively angry."

"What did she say?"

"It was not what she said, so much as the manner of saying it: the tone
of pity, of false pity, affecting to look upon you as if..."

"And what... Did she speak of ... of Cecil!"

Heath was silent.

"Ah! I know she did; but you must not believe her; indeed, it is not true
—indeed, he is not."
 "Is it possible?"

"That is .... she must have exaggerated.... He has been imprudent,

unfortunate.... but he is the kindest, best of men.... They are all against him;
they do not understand him; they require a man of genius to be as formal
and regular as other men .... absurd, is it not? .... Are not all men of genius
... are they not?"

"Unhappily!" replied Heath.

"I know you would not join the cabal against him. You are more liberal!
Oh! if you knew his heart, how good it is!—I wish he were here..."

At this moment little Rose Blanche cried; and her mother took her up.
The little creature was terrified at first seeing the captain, and clung to her
mother for protection; but after a little coaxing, she became pacified, and in
a few minutes was in his arms and playing with his dark moustache, which
greatly interested her.

This interruption saved Heath from an embarrassing situation, and

threw the conversation entirely upon the child, of whom the fond mother
had innumerable anecdotes to relate, all of which went to the establishment
of the fact, that for intelligence and goodness, no such baby was to be met
with in the three kingdoms. Heath was too happy to let the conversation
continue in that strain, and having spent an agitated yet delicious hour with
her, he thought it time to go.

"My dear Blanche," he said at last, "I came here upon a matter of
business, which I must not forget in the pleasure of seeing you. My
residence in Italy has developed in me a taste for pictures. I am not rich; but
I am alone in the world, and can afford to indulge my taste. Your husband is
an artist, and I am come to command a picture from him. I leave the
subject, size, and price, entirely to him. Let him execute whatever his
genius prompts him; and I am quite sure I shall be the gainer by leaving the
price to him. Meanwhile, as you are not in flourishing circumstances, here
is a cheque for fifty pounds, on account. When he wants more, he knows
where to apply."
 He placed a cheque in her hand as he said this. She understood but too
well this delicate mode of assisting them, and a tear rose into her eye as she
pressed his hand significantly: she could not speak. He embraced her child
repeatedly, and, with a fond protecting look, bade her good-bye.

Left alone, she burst into tears: they were tears of gratitude and tears of
shame: gratitude for the beautiful and delicate friendship of the act and its
manner: shame at finding herself reduced to such a state, that she was
forced to accept alms from her former lover.

As she grew calmer, the thought rose within her, that perhaps this might
be the saving of Cecil—that he, finding employment, might resolutely set to
work, and—no longer forced to seek a subsistence by gaming,—resume his
honourable career.

Building cloud-castles on the landscape of the future, she was light and
joyous when Cecil returned, and flung herself upon his neck, with almost
frantic delight.

CHAPTER IV.

HUMBLED PRIDE.

Cecil received those demonstrations of joy with moody sullenness. He

had returned exasperated by failure, gloomy with the dark thoughts which
lowered upon him, like heavy clouds collected over the sunny fields, boding
a coming storm.

"Blanche," he said, "we are beggars."

The smile was still upon her face; she pushed the hair gently from off
his forehead.
 "There is no hope left. I have tried every body."

"I have had a visitor, darling, since you went out. Guess who it was."

"Julius?"

"No."

"Your father?"

"No."

"A dun?"

"Captain Heath."

"The devil it was!"

"Yes; I thought it would surprise you. Oh! I was so happy to see him!"

"Heath... here!" exclaimed Cecil, his cheek burning as he spoke. "And

you saw him? ... received him here ... and in my absence? You did?"

"Was I wrong?" she, trembling, asked.

"Wrong? Oh, no; it was not wrong to receive your lover. You needn't
start ... he is your lover, and you know it! You know, moreover, that I hate
him... The scoundrel! And he saw you here ... here, in this beggarly place ...
in this hole of poverty! And he triumphed over me ... triumphed because his
prophecy was fulfilled! Didn't he, too, urge you to leave me? Didn't he, too,
tell you I was a villain, dragging you to ruin? Didn't he offer to take you
home? .... Speak! don't stare at me in that way! Tell me all the scoundrel
said ... quick!"

"Cecil, Cecil, down on your knees, and beg his pardon for having so
slandered him! You are not in your senses to speak so—and of him, of
him!"
 "Slandered him, have I? What! the sneaking wretch who takes
advantage of my present situation...."

"To assist you!" indignantly exclaimed Blanche.

"Assist me! and for what purpose? For whose sake—for mine? No; for
yours! Oh! I see all his plans—I see them all!"

Cecil, mad with jealousy and rage, dashed his hand upon the table, and
swore a fearful oath. It was not that he for a moment suspected his wife; but
he had never been able to overcome his jealousy of Heath; and what added
tenfold torture to that venomous feeling now, was the thought that Heath
had come back to find Blanche reduced to want—to find her in this
miserable lodging deprived of all the comforts and necessaries of life. He
felt himself horribly humiliated in the eyes of his hated rival; he felt that his
rival triumphed over his degradation; and he dreaded lest Blanche should
have made an involuntary comparison between her present condition, and
what it would have been had she married Heath. All this rapidly crossed his
mind, and drove him to fury.

"Cecil," she said, struggling with her tears, "you are unhappy, and that
makes you unjust. If you but knew the noble nature of him...."

"Hold your tongue! Am I to sit here and listen to his praises? Noble
nature, indeed! Yes, yes, I know it.... I know it."

"Then you know...."

"Silence, I say! Are you going to draw a comparison between us? Are
you going to contrast his virtues with my vices? A good subject, but a bold
one for a wife to touch upon!"

"Cecil, you break my heart... Will you hear me?"

"No!"

"What have I said or done...."

 "You have received, during my absence, a man I hate—a man who, if he
again crosses my threshold, I will throw out of the window."

"Look at this!" she said, presenting the cheque to him.

"What is that?"

"If you will not listen to me, trust your own eyes."

"A cheque for fifty pounds—and from him?"

"He came here to command a picture; you are to name your own price;
that is on account."

Cecil took the cheque, looked at it, and then at her.

"And do you believe this?" he said, with intense calmness. "Do you
really believe that he wants a picture?"

"No; I believe that to be an excuse...."

"An excuse! By God! she knows it!"

"It is a delicate way of assisting us.—That is the conduct of the man

whom you have outraged by your suspicions."

Cecil was stupefied. Her perception of the subterfuge quite staggered

him.

"So, so—he thinks to buy you, does he?" he at last said, choking with
rage.

She coloured deeply with shame, and exclaimed,—

"Oh, Cecil! Cecil!"

"Well then, to buy me! He thinks I am to be patronized.... to be his

workman.... to receive his orders.... to receive his money! Blanche, this
cheque is either an outrage to you, or an insult to me. Don't speak! .... Not
another word."

He rose, and put on his hat.

"Good God! Cecil, what are you about to do?"

"To find out this liberal patron."

"Cecil, Cecil! do be calm!"

"I am. I will fling this cheque in his odious face, and tell him what I
think."

She threw herself upon him.

"Cecil! my own darling! listen to your Blanche.... For God's sake, be

calm! ... Think of me; think of your child! .... A duel! oh, Cecil! could you
leave your child fatherless, Cecil?"

He flung her from him, and rushed out of the house: she reeled and fell.
The child began to scream; the old lady living in the parlours hurried up
stairs, and found Blanche lifeless on the floor.

Like a madman, Cecil bounded along the streets, goaded by one of

those irresistible outbreaks of passion which sometimes mastered him. On
reaching the house where Heath formerly lived, and hearing that he no
longer lived there, he remembered Heath having just returned from abroad,
and that his residence could only be known at his bankers. Thither he went:
on his way he passed through Jermyn-street. It was in that street was kept
the gaming-house where he had spent so many of his days and nights.

A new direction was given to his thoughts: insensibly they left the
subject of Captain Heath to merge into that of play. Still he walked on, but
less swiftly. The idea of the splendid martingale he had recently discovered,
which this fifty pounds would enable him to play, would not leave him.

He walked more and more slowly. Fifty pounds—it might make his
fortune.
 After all, Heath might possibly have desired a picture. The fool! as if he
knew anything about pictures—he, the heavy guardsman, purchase
pictures!

Yet, if he was rich, that was one way of spending his money. There was
nothing but what was perfectly legitimate in an artist receiving a
commission;—all artists receive them.

And with this fifty pounds a fortune was within his grasp.

He no longer walked, he crawled. This money was certainly his, if he

chose to take it; why should he refuse? To be sure, the money of that
scoundrel! All an excuse, too: Blanche knew it was an excuse.

He quickened his pace again. He was at the banking-house: he pushed

the door, and entered.

"I can return him the money to-morrow. I will say Blanche changed it.
Out of my winnings I can repay it."

He handed the cheque to the cashier.

"How will you take it, sir?" demanded the cashier.

"Gold," was the brief answer.

His eyes sparkled as the fifty sovereigns were shovelled across the
counter; and he left the bank with lights dancing before him.

CHAPTER V.

"BLACK WINS."
 The fascination of the gaming-table was too much for him; all his sense
of dignity vanished before it; even his very jealous rage seemed thus
powerless against it. Humiliated as he felt at the idea of accepting charity
from his rival, he could not reject it when it came to feed his passion for
play. Although he had not a farthing in the house, although utter destitution
threatened him, he would not, to save himself from it, have accepted
Heath's assistance; but he could accept it when it enabled him to play.

To one of his old haunts he went. The first man he saw there was the
large-whiskered, jovial, and eccentric gentleman whom he had noticed on
the second evening: of his entering a house of play: he had since lost sight
of him. The little man stroked his bushy whiskers fondly over his face, and,
offering Cecil a pinch of snuff, expressed his pleasure at meeting him again.

"Come to try the goddess, sir?" he inquired. "Fickle goddess! now

smiling, now frowning—quite a woman! I am no great hand myself; but, as
far as a few crowns go, I find it a pleasant game—decidedly pleasant.
Would you like to regulate yourself by my card?—duly pricked, you see.
There have been three runs upon the black; once it turned up eleven times.
Shall we take a glass of wine together? Yes;—waiter! some wine."

"No wine for me, thank you; I never touch it before dinner. Have you
seen Mr. Forrester here to-day?"

"The gentleman with the large moustachios?—Yes; he has been playing,

and won; but he went away about a quarter of an hour ago."

Cecil took his seat at the table. Gambling by day has, somehow, a more
hideous aspect than by night: I suppose because it looks so little like an
amusement, and so much like a mere affair of cupidity. But Cecil had
grown used to this, as to other loathsome aspects of his vice, and sat down
to the table with as much sang froid as if he were about to transact the most
ordinary piece of business.

He had not been playing long, winning and losing in pretty equal
succession, when Frank came back.
 "What, again!" said Cecil. "I thought you had gone for the day: I heard
you had departed with your winnings."

"The fact is, that I found my winnings rapidly decreasing, so I thought a

little interval might very properly elapse; after which fortune again might be
on my side. Besides, old boy, you must know that I haven't dined for eight
days;—and when I say dined, I don't mean dining in the true sense, but in
the common, vulgar, pauper sense of the word. I have made no meal which
could represent a dinner. For eight days I haven't touched meat, damn my
whiskers! So, being as ravenous as a hyena, I determined that to-day, at
least, I would dine."

"And have you?"

"Have I, Cis? Why it's not yet five: do you imagine that under any
circumstance I could lower myself so far as to dine at the shopkeeper's
hour? No, damn it! one may be hard up, but one does not forget one is a
gentleman!"

"Have you ordered your dinner then?"

"More than ordered it—paid for it. I went to the butcher's, and bought
two pounds of magnificent steak: this I carried to a small Public, hard by,
with the strictest injunctions as to the dressing of it—saw the cook myself,
and am satisfied she knows what's what. It is to be ready at half-past six
precisely, with no end of fried potatoes, and a bottle of their old crusted,
which I know from experience is a wine that a gentleman can drink. The
dinner you will say is not epicurean, but at any rate it is certain, because I
have paid for it all. Now I don't mind risking the rest of my winnings. My
mind is at rest: the baser appetites are provided for."

He began to play also; and he won.

"I told you luck would change," he said.

But he soon lost again, and lost repeatedly.

 "Never mind, I have secured a dinner for to-day, which will last a
week."

Cecil was equally unfortunate; the run seemed to be decidedly against

him.

At last Frank threw down his final half-crown. It went like the others.
He started up, and hurried away, without saying good-bye; indeed, giving
no other expression of his feelings than was convoyed in an energetic
denunciation of his whiskers.

Cecil played on; and as he saw the sovereigns disappear in spite of his
famous martingale, his heart sank within him, and the gloom of despair
seemed to paralyse his mind. Suffering horrible agony from the intense
excitement of each coup, he yet played mechanically, almost listlessly, he
lost, and won, and lost again, with fearful alternation of sick despair and
dull joy. It was as if he were staking his heart's blood on each turn.

Frank returned, not without a certain hilarity in his manner.

"Where have you been?" Cecil faintly inquired.

"To my worthy host of the Coach and Horses, at whose house my dinner
is commanded. It struck me that I could very well dispense with wine to-
day—the more so as it costs six shillings a bottle, and here one gets it for
nothing—so I negociated with the worthy publican, and sold him the wine
back again for two half-crowns. Here they are. What d'ye think of that? Is
that management of financial difficulties, eh?"

A sickly smile was the only answer Cecil gave, for at that moment he
had just lost his fourth coup running. The two half-crowns seemed to bring
back Frank's luck, for he won rapidly; Cecil, who played the same colours,
also won. Winning and losing, and losing and winning, so the game went
on, with alternate rising and falling of hopes, and in the rapidity with which
small gains mounted up to large sums, and those sums dwindled down
again, crowding as much excitement as would have filled a month of
ordinary life.