The Hancock Jeffersonian. [volume] (Findlay, Ohio) 1857-1870, 1869-10-08

{ window, stands man needless
the bitter wind, deaf to the roar
che angry sea, gazing, with hungl
!, heart and happy smile, upon u
s picture within.
D "HOw beautiful she is 2" he whi
] pers to himself, and proud and To-
D ing look comes over the bronzed fac
J as he gazes on the little figure in ii
merino dress.
1 1t was thus that he had picture
: her, many a time-the bright fire, ,th
e shining little clock, even the patter
Of the chintz curtain, had blended t.
gether in harmonious whole, lsbe
] sd in his mental picture-g gallery
er:Home.'
But the slight, girlish figure, ber
a little forward, the falling brow
e hair, the shining, truthful eyes, thi
had been the brightest, because th
dearest OF all.
She was thinking of him, perhaps
little dreaming OF the happy surpris
in store for her in his unexpecte'
return. What is that?
Ay! start, John Danforth, an,
reel as if struck by sudden blow
Is This the wife you have seen in do
ting dreams. for whom you have KEEP
your soul pure and unstained, tha
J it might hold enshrined her sacret
image?
An inner door is opened, quick
manly step upon the floor, and .
man, mufiled with coats and wrap
pings of fur, is beside Robins chair
She looks up in his face. How wei
John Danforth knows that loving
smile and though the winds pre-
vent their words from reaching him
she seems from her gestures to be
urging remonstrances against his
going out in such storm.
He shakes his head laughingly, the
the boylsh curls glancing in the fire
light, aud stOops down beside her.
She filings both arms round his neck,
presses her lips to the smooth cheek
innocent of beard or razor, and he
lays his hand upon the latch, slowly
opens the door, and, in q moment
more, is oat in the stormy night.
The heart of Captain Danforth
sinking down, down like lead in his
bosom with the weight of his loss,
leaps and burns with all the fury OF
a savage as he hears the footsteps OF
his rival beside him, SO close that il
he should stretch out his hand he
could throttle him in moment.
The village road! That way is
long and rugged; few travellers ever
tread the lonely way. Revenge, re-
yengei
1t is said there is drop off tigers
blood in every human heart. l think
i. must have been alive in John Dan
forth's heart then, and prompted the
stealthy, creeping pace with which
he followed his victim, on, on, over
rugged paths watching the boyish
form, till the sudden, blind impulse
of revenge grew into a settled pur-
pose-till the sure, relentless hand
seconded :he murderous plans of the
heart.
Half way down the winding, rocky
road deep chasm runs parallel with
it for a little distance, then, with an
abrupt turn, takes another direction
towards the coast.
John, breathlessly dodging the
footsteps of the poy-he is but little
more than that--chuckled with saw
age delight at the thought of a MIS-
step, which might plunge his uneon-
scious enemy headlong down the
abyss to a frightful death on the
sharp, rugged rocks below.
As he reaches this point in his
journey the youth pauses moment,
turning his back to the fierce blast,
which has been blowing steadily in
his face all the way. John is beside
him in moment.
"Villain"' he grasps the boy by
the shoulder fiercely, with an oath
hissed between his shut teeth, and
there is q struggle-unequal, short,
decisive.
Unequal, for the youth is but as a
babe in that fierce, strong grasp, and
overpOwered, he shouts with all his
might for help.
"Robina!''
That name, wrung from him in his
agonizing fear, is his death warrant.
A thousand demons rage In the
heart of Danforth, as he holds him
for a moment over the abyss. The
moon, shining through a rift in the
clouds, shows him two blue eyes gaz-
ing with wild, beseeching fear into
his; two white hands tossed help
lessly in the air; flutter of yellow
curls, and then something goes
crashing over jagged points Of rocks
md rolling stones below.
"Murder!''
The bowling winds, as they swept
past, shrek the word in his ear, then
away to bear the cry still further on,
leaving him sitting helplessly alone
and weak, staring vacantly around
and listening to the rush and roar of
the increasing tide, as it murmurs in
hollow tones, "Murder!"
Gone now the blind rage and mad
ness of the moment before, only the
anguish and remorseful despair re-
main.
His brain is in a confessed whirl !;
only half conscious of what he is
doing, he rises to his feet and en-
deavors 10 stagger onward in vain.
A yawning abyss opens beneath his
feet; roaring sound is in his ears;
lights flash before his eyes; he sinks
in utter Inconsistencies.
a million of devils caught him in
their strong arms and were forcing
him over a precipice. He fought,
he struggled, he prayed for mercy,
but only derisive laughter answered
him, and the torment was redoubIed.
They pricked his flesh with sharp
needles; they burned his brain with
hot irons. At one moment he SEEM
ed plunged into burning lake; the
next, he wandered through intermin-
able fields of ice and snow-nothing @
but the fierce glare of the sun upon
blocks and mountains of polar ice
net his aching eyes. And every
where, whether he wandered over
burning desert sands in a phantom
ship amid the icebergs of a polar
sea, a blood-red banner tapped be.
fore his eyes, inscribed with the word
.GNTurdar ",