Bedford inquirer. [volume] (Bedford, Pa.) 1857-1884, 1858-11-12

= ou have never loved, Bessie, sad Genna,
IN hollow voice, gazing yacantly around, her
face colorless as marble. ssDid he say he did
not love me, dear Martin ?--no, Bessie--no.--
1 1t was in the little arbor we were, when bc
clasped my hand aud pressed it to his lips, and
/ then he told me
ssWhat was it, Bessie said the poor girl,
pressing her hand against her burning brow
! My head aches so hard. | cannot remember.
! You know, Bessie? | told you all about it,
what did be tell me That was star; yes,
/ u bright beautiful star that shown but for him,
| and that | would be the light of his life. Yes,
| BESSIE, did he not say so How foolish, how
aukind of me TO doubt him.
! 'sNo, no, Bessie, he loves me still he can
never forget his own Genna. Do you not think
he will come tonight he loves me SO. How
dark it is here, Bessie. cannot see you ~
and with deep groan the wrotched girl sank
/ iRsensible upon the floor.
/ Half frantic with terror at the effect of Ler
1 thoughtless words, Bessie spraug to the bell
aud rang it violently, then kneeling beside the
| pale, immovable form of Genna, she bosought
/ her in piteous tones to speak, if but one little
| word. But Genna remained as she had fallen,
cold and rigid, her eyes fixed, aud every fea-
ture wearing the impress of death. The family
and physicians were soon present, but all their
| efforts to rouse her from the deathlike stupor
into which she had fallen, were unsuccess-
| fni
! Sadly Bessie fingered at her bedside vainly
regretting tho careless manner in which she
/ had spoken, little thinking how deep aud last
| ing was the love that found home in the heart
OF her young friend.
| Six days passed, aud no change. The morn
| ing of the seventh dawned; pale and sorrowful,
| Bessie leaned over the low couch where rested
the lovely form of Gcuna. There she lay
| shrouded in her white robes, pale and beauti-
tul; but as Bessie gazed ,she faucied she detect
cd slight change. With fear and trembling
! she placed her hand upon her heart; there was
a gentle throbbiug, scarce perceptlble. Earn
| estly did Bessie watch; soon little glow, like
! the first faint flush of morning, iIuged her pail
! lid countenanee, aud her lips moved audIbly--
"Martin." Bessie caught the sound.
Slowly and languidly, Genna moved her
eyes, and gazed wonderfully upon the many
faces tha, were by this time bent over her.
| ''Who told me Martin had gone who said
! he did not love me q" she asked in weak trem-
ulous tones.
''Alartin viii come soon,'' said Bessie, gent
ly. '.Lie still, now; you have been i'll, dar-
| ling, but you are better now, and must be very
quiet"
! eyes. did Martin say was i'll No, no, he
said he loved me- he is whispering to me now
he says sm the sweet spirit of all his waking
dreams,'' aud closing ber eyes she sauk into a
peaceful slumber.
We will drop the curtain over the days and
weeks that elapsed ere Gonna regained strength
sufficient to enable her to arise from that bed
of suffering. We will not attempt to portray
the heart-rending agony of her loving parents
and friends, when it was discovered that she,
the young, the beautiful, who but little time
ago gladdened every heart with her playful
mirth aud winning smiles, was now a hopeless
maniac, the victim of mans inconsistency.
Five years with their burden of joys and sor-
rows, smiles and tears, sped swiftly by.
Martin Aubrie, young, handsome, and gay as
ever, sits in his quiet breakfast parler; upon
bis shoulder leans a dark-eyed, beautiful wo-
man, his wife. Two sweet playful children
complete the picture.
s.Well, good morning, wife, l'm off to the
counting-house, now," said Martin, rising; and
kissing bis hand to his lovely babes, be passed
out of the room, while his wife, placing box
OF toys upon the carpet, retired to her chamber;
but few moments elapsed ere she agaiE enter
ed the parlor. o, God! what sight met her
eyes, There lay her beauteous babes, with
fearful cash across their fair white throats,
/ from which poured forth the crimson tide in
frightful streams.
Over them stood Genna, the perpetrator of
this fcndish deed, robed in white flowing gar
ments, her arms and neck bare, her face pale,
and her eyes cleaning with the wild light of
| insanity. Brandishing her knife, she said, in
deep, piercing tone
81 swore would kill them; / saw Martin
carry them in his arms; | saw him press his
| lips TO their little baby faces; | know he loves
| them, but be told me once that he loved me,
and believed him, and now people point me
out, and call me mad No, no, am not
mad.' Then turning, she fed from the apart
ment, leaving Mrs. Aubrie transfxed with
grief and arnazement.
As soon as the horrible affair was ncised
abroad, search was Instituted for the murder
ess, but Genna had mystcriously disappeared.
No one had seen her--no ono could gain ANY
tidings of her.
One morning, three months after the unholy
sacrifice of his little ones Martin Aubrie again
entered his counting room. He was very pale,
and shade of deep melancholy rested upon
his handsome countenance.
He had scarcely reached his desk ere he felt
a light hand laid upon his arm, and, turning,
his eyes met those of her he had so deeply
wronged-pale and wildly beautiful she stood
before him. ssMartin Aubrie," said she, in a
deep hurried whisper, that thrilled bis very
soul, sswe meet at last !" and drawing from her
bosom knife still stained with the blood OF
bis innocent children, before any one could pc
aware of her intentions, she plunged It deep
| into his heart.
Years have pasted.