Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1876-05-20
rcorcIuded from first page J

II was late in the afternoon before she
reached the trading post; she found II
deserted by the hunters, for they had that
morning started on their long expedition
But the permanent settlers were there,
end, although they could give her little
news of her husband. they could at least
relieve her of the haunting fear that he
had gone with his old companions. They
comforted her, too, with MANI reasons fol
Antoine's disappearance. He had, per
haps, come upon the track of some valua
BILE game, which he had followed, and
thus been delayed. She had better re-
turn to her cabin and wait patiently for
him. And there was a shorter trail than
the one by which he had come, which she
had better take on her return. She would
probably find Antoine at the cabin before
her.
Refreshed and comforted by her visit to
the camp, she turned away from it with a
far lighter heart than that with which
she had entered it. The jewellers there
had laughed at her fears, and she felt that
she was foolish to dread tor him. He
knew the forest as well as she knew the
meadows at home. He was armed for
any encounter with wild animals; and
from man, she knew he feared nothing.
And in her short stay at the camp she had
heard how it was believed that her hus-
band bore a charmed life, that woodland
dangers always faded before him, and foes
always gave him the trail.
Upheld by these reflections, she fol-
lowed the path which he had taken the
night before. At first she fitted like a
bird over the snow. thinking how in hap
DIV hours to come, she would tell Antoine
of her adventurous search for him. But
it was not long before she felt the depress-
ing effect of WEAKNESS. And as she en-
tered the new trail the day was done, and
she sat down to wait until the rising moon
would show her the way.
Wrapping her blanket around her and
muffing her chilled face in it, she nestled
beside great tree for what warmth its
shelter might give. The day and preced-
ing night had been wonderfully mild, but
now the night was growing intensely
cold. and she begrudged every moment
of inaction. But to 60 forward she did
not dare, for, if she once strayed from her
way in the darkness, she was hopelessly
lost. The chill air benumbed her men,
tally and physically, and she had not been
long in her sheltered nook before she sue
cumbed to the sleep which anxiety had
banished the night before.
Whether she slept for long or short
time she did not know. for her sleep wal
as heavy and dreamless as death. She
only knew that she sprang to her feet
wide awake, after the first moment o.
confusion, hearing her name called loud
", as if from empty space. She listened
breathlessly for repetition of the sound.
but the forest was perfectly silent. A SUI
perstitious feeling that it was an unearthly
voice which had called her. came over her
and filed her with awe which made her
silent. And, crossing herself and murmur-
ing prayer, she once more went forward
through the moonlit woods. But all her
buoyancy and hope were gone. 1t was
hard to keep back the tears which loneli.
ness. fear, and cold forced into her eyes
For the first time in her life, she had to
depend entirely upon herself, and never
before had been so helpless, so defense
less.
She walked heavily on, benumbed by
the cold, with only consciousness sufficient
TO keep upon the river, which she had
been told was her nearest way home.
A short distance before her she saw her
path INSTRUCTED by fallen tree, and she
WAS dUOOt " SCId up tIc Dtl1h anu
make her way around it when her heart
gave great bound of fear as she saw the
green boughs suddenly moved. The GER
tainty that she now had fierce, starved
animal to face, broke down all her cour-
age. and in an instant the woods rang
with loud cry of despair At the sound,
the green screen was put swiftly aside.
and human face, haggard and pale,
looked out at her. Looked blankly at first,
then the eyes lit up and the warm blood
flushed over it, and her cry was answered
by one of joy and triumph.
Marie, Marie, art thou here?"
Where was the loneliness and GOODNESS
Of moment before? That cry peopled
the world for her, and filled the forest with
the glory of summer. In an instant she
was upon the tree, her arms were aronnd
her husbands neck. her kisses upon his
lips. For some moments words lwere not
needed; it was enough that they were to-
gether once more. Then Antoine, with
his head dropping weakly upon her breast,
said:
marie, knew that thou wouldst come.
| could not die without thee
die, Antoine Do not speak of dying.
But why art thou here? ' and for the first
time she looked about her for the cause.
II cannot move. Marie, have been
here since last night. My arm is broken.
These boughs hold me fast"
"Oh, Antoine ~ and the horror which
he felt when he first realized his fate was
felt by her. Still she would not believe
the hopelessness of his situation, and,
Selling his bonds. tried with all her
strength to sever them, and together they
fought his strange captor; but the strdg-
gle was short, and Antoine said:
ut is hopeless, Marie. My strength is
all gone. cannot aid thee. | must die
here. Take the heavy burden from my
shoulders. Sit down beside me, Marie.
Let me feel thine arms once more around
me, and with thee near me will not be
afraid to de-
Marie quickly undid the fastening of his
pack and laid it aside, and at once re-
newed her endeavors to release him. She
broke away the slender branches, and then
with the knife from his belt began to cut
the stronger ones. But just as her labors
seemed about to succeed he called out to
her: