River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1878-08-22

to your eyes as they rested on your work,
to IA 4 you of the burning brain which
could find no relief in tears, the weight oil
iron breaking the heart on which your
hand has placed it. All it is little
hand, white and fair clasping it within
his own-"even to lift so monstrrous a
weight; yet you placed it well, not miss
ing single nerve slender, pretty fingers,
but o SO cruell Elsie, have you no re-
morse2n
"Victor, you are the cruel one; you do
me an injustice unworthy of yourselfr'
cay. iniusticel What do you know of
the wordl You, who sit here in your
beautiful home. and let the world go by
UNDECIDED and uncared for, what memory
had you for the man you had doomed,
whose strugl les, whose agonies you could
watch as the cat playing with the mouse2
| saw him kiss you last night, the man
you call your husband. forgetting my
right to the titie-forgetting in the sight
of Heaven, that you are my wife. You
rested in his arms, you laid your head
upon his shoulder, looking with adoring
eyes into his facet You whispered
words of love in his ear, but for the last
time! | would have killed him, but
that wanted you alone in the world to
which we are gong. Elsie, darling, you
do not fear mel" his voice suddenly sink
ing from frenzied anger to its old tender
ness.
At any moment he might draw the
concealed weapon from his pocket at
any moment plunge the dagger into my
heart. A scream, struggle, would but
make sure my fate. What was to be done2
"Victor," I said, with cunning match
ing his own, ''let US not die, but live. In
death all is uncertainty; in life we have
each other and love-"
lie glanced with keen suspicion into
my face.
"And you love me2" he questioned.
allow dare you, then, give your kisses to
that other-the kisses which belonged TO
me2 Listenl We have no time to spare.
Already they are on my track. Tonight
/ saw them, but their eyes failed to find
me. Nor do | find it such difficult task
Yet, il once they seize me, they will bear
me back to the place from which | fled;
but rot alive--O, not alive! See, Elsie!"
throwing back his coat, and disclosing
the long, narrow cleaning blade he had
concealed there. First your heart, then
mine! You grow pale; you tremble. 1t
will soon be over. A moments pang;
eternal happiness"
His arms are thrown tight around me.
l am powerless even to struggle in his
iron clasp. His words fall kissing, one
by one, on the still air. Darkness is
gathering around me-the darkness of
despair.
The little clock upon the mantcl chimes
eleven, and / remember, with a thrill of
horror, it is the last time / shall ever hear
1t strike, when outside sounds a cherry
whistle, and a step / recognize as my
husbands upon the pavement.
Its firm, manly tread is unmistakable.
can fancy his glancing up at the lighted
windows shining forth their welcome for
him. Another moment: his latch-key
will be i'll he door
"Victor." exclaimed, 81 hear them
coming. He, the spy, is on your track.
Conceal yourself where you were before.
will mislead him and return to you.
For my sake, be quick
At these last words his hold relaxes.
The old cunning leaps to his eyes.
"Fer your sake he whispers.
With a sudden spring he is again hid
den behind the folds of the curtain, and
in that moment my husband entered the
room, and rushed to the shelter of his
arms Behind him follow two men.
My darling, what is it," Will ex-
claims. ''What has happened2 | found
these men watching the house, and they
insist mailman entrusted to their care
has entered here. !, of course, have
given them permission to search"
l try to speak, but cannot. The words
die in my throat as point, trembling, to
the curtain where / can discern, peering
Victor's cleaning eyes.
'Traitress!" / hear him exclaim; and
as the men spring forward there follows
a duh fall
Poor felIow He has taken his sad
journey alone. In his frenzy he had
plunged the steel through his own heart,
loyal unto death and madness.
For weeks I, too, lowered on the
graves brink, but my husbands tender
love and care won me back to life; and
together we always visit one solitary
mound in the church-yar where we
ever place fresh flowers, with the prayer
that he who sleeps at last has found the
journey, even as he thought, "but one
step in eternal happiness"