Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1869-12-07


of the shore aud the tall Trees of the
/ island; but at that season Of the year
the current was so swollen by the
spring rains, that the island was half
overfowed, and the pretty cove deep,
black eddy, where the waters scethed
and foamed in their insane whirl.
Annie Linn stood motionless in the
doorway. From the first Instant she
saw the wild race Of the children, she
understood what had lappened.-
They had found the body he had been
drowned in the cove.
Then the dreadful doubtwhether it
had been accidental or the work of
self destruction. She remembered his
last words; but even in that hour of
supreme agony, she could not see her
way to have acted differently.
She still stood there, While more
people went hurrying down through
the fields, and the excitemqt became
general through the village @
She heard some one passing thro'
the next room. She must be aDne, or
her very reason would go. She
reached the stairs-fairly creptupon
her hands and knees, to the solitude
of her own room.
Perhaps an hour after, some imp,lse
forced her to the window. She lpk-
ed out, Up the path came a train of
men carrying something over which
was spread white sheet, that auttG-
ed a little in the wind.
Only a glance then she fell to the
floor, and lost everything for time
IN that blessed insensibility.
The body was carried to the old
brown farmhouse. The face was swol-
len and unrecognizable, but the wild
ow remembered the clothes. 1t was
the body Of her son.
The evening before the funeral of
poor Charles Manson, Anne Linn
wandered out of the house mo fields
not towards the path Which had
formerly been her favorite haunt; she
could not even look towards that.
She saw the old brown house on the
hill, but did not venture to approach
more near. Some one came out of
the door and walked down thu hill
Annie knew her in an instant: it was
his mother.
She did not attempt to avoid the
meeting. She stood there, passiyely
awaiting whatever might ensue, not
even looking up as she heard tie foot
steps come nearer.
Annie Annie !" called the famil-
lar voice, which had an undertone so
like his. There stood the widow with
her arms extended. Annie fell into
them with one cry, upon which the
smothered grief of the past days went
out.
1t was a long time before there was
a word spoken; then tears cane, and
broken whispers which made each
heart dear to the other.
They say you blame me- Annie
cried.
@Child, my boy loved yot; that
was enough. l never blameitedq; |
never shall. We don't cart ye,eo-
pie say; We understand on6-5other
now
Il wanted to see you; to.oome to
you"
Il know, know. You can do so
now, Annie; your father Will never
object any more"
They clung tc one another little
closer after these words.
You mustn't come to the house to-
morrow" the widow said fCome to
me when it is all over and they are
gone"
q have been wishing-I want to
see"
mo, no. ", II dreadful. could
only look once. Don't, Annie, don't"
She hid her face for moment to
shut out the painful image her own
words had called up-that pale, worn
face, with so much of the tender beau
ty of age in it already.
They had no words of comfort to
speak to each other. 1t was very diff
ficult to talk at all. But it eased
their grief to stand together, feeling
that each understood the others
| heart.
Annie clung to her with sudden en-
ergy.
Don't let them talk to you, did
love him; indeed | did"
a know it. You did what was
right; no one shall blame you in my
hearing. l hope they'll let my boy
alone now. o, my Charley! N J
Charley y
She checked the spasm of grief
quickly.
Il don't believe he did it on pur.
pose. He wrote me letter. think
he meant to 60 away. | suppose he
wandered off towards the river that
night" ..
A shudder completed the sentence,
1t was fuller Of agony than any words
or tears.
They parted almost in silence, and
each stole home, shivering with chill
that struck deeper than the pleasant
GOODNESS of the spring evening, and
would not wear away for months and
years.
Charles Monson had been buried g
year. Then came the second great
trial Of Annie Linn's life.
The spring warmed into summer
but the mourning in which Annie
Linn's heart was shrouded did not
grow more light.
She visited the widow very fire
4 Il