The Rutland daily globe. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1873-1877, 1875-12-11

Day dawned at last, the pale sun swim
ming through the sickly sky, the pallid
forecast of q storm. Weak and faint from
hunger, and suffering intense from cold
Tor summer is no bearer of tropical smiles
In this inhospitable clime-Martha paced
back and forth the narrow limits of the
rock. None come-the faint sun declined
1t was night again. A cold fog sank
down over the mountain, followed by a
drizzling rain, which before morning
changed to perfect deluge. The river
rose fearfully, foaming milk-white down
the gorge, filling the air with shuddering
roar like the peal of an imprisoned earth
quake.
The day that followed was no better
only rain and ashen-white mist-not ray
Of sunshine.
A new fear arose In the heart of Martha
Warren. The turbulence of the stream
must have swept away the bridge over
which her husband would cross on his re-
turn, and he would be detained for days
maybe for weeks. She gave up all for lost
Strongly and fearfully was she tempted to
fold her child in her arms and plunge into
the cauldron beneath, and thus end her fear
and doubts! 1t would be better, she thought,
than to suffer that slow, painful death of
starvation. But something held her back
Gods curse was on those who do self
murder.
Towards night, lost robin, beaten about
BY the storm, stopped to rest a moment on
the rock Martha seiZod upon him and rent
him in twain, with almost savage giee. for
her child to devour rsw-she, who three
days before would have wept at the sight
of a wounded sparrow.
Another night and day, like the other,
only more intensely agonizing. Martha
Warren was sullenly Indifferent now; SUI
fering had palsed every noble feeling.
Charlie moaned for his supper too weak
and spent to sit up, he was lying on the
rock, his head in her lap, his great eyes fix
ed on her face.
She tore open a vein in her arm with her
scissors, and made him drink the blood
Anything, she said to herself, to calm the
wild, wishful yearning of his eyes,
The boy raised-he sat up and peered
through the darkness.
"Mamma," he said, "papa is coming. |
felt him touch me-"
She wept at the mockery, and drew the
child frsnticslly to her bosom.
The night was tair-lt up by new
moon.
Overcome by deadly exhaustion, against
which she could make no resistance. Mar
tina fell into an uneasy slnmber, which to-
wards midnight was broken by startling
cry. She sprang to her feet and gazed
around her.
No her eyes did not deceive her--ihere
on tue shore stood the -taiwart form of her
husband, and he was calling her name with
the energy of despair. She could only cry
out. 80, Mark, Mark !" and fell senseless
to the earth.
When she awolSe to Consciousness, che
was lying on her own bed in the cottage,
supported by her husbands arms.
1t was no dream. She and her darling
boy were safe and he came back.
Many weeks passed before she grew
strong again, but Mark tended her as a
mother would an infant, and by the time
the autumn frosts fell. she was the blithe
Martha Warren of old
At the time of the freshet, the bridge
over the AmmonoOsuc had indeed been
swept away, but Mark, impeled by an un-
comfortable fear-almost presentiment-
had crossed the river, at the risk of his
life, on long raft, and reached home only
to find it vacant.
The descendants of Mark Warren and
his wife still dwell among the fertile val
leys of the Ammonoosuc, and the old men
still toll TO their grandchildren the story of
Martha Warren and her child.