St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1878-11-23

scared bv The sight o. her sweet
trust and his di;.bolic:ll treact'ery.
She slept nj last souadiess, uh-
broken sleep OF Innocence amt goF.
Then ] called his name. lie pushest
the window sash aiar and eanc 10
my side where / stood among the
roses. Even mt that moment l
loved hin. I loved him even when
ne wrenched the dagger from his
bosom and plunged it in my nelf'
as I wept knceling at his fcet. he
did not withdraw the murt!erous
blade, hal he lifted Inc III his arms
and bore me 70 the foot Of the dead,
cracking tree behind me now; and
there, while the new bride Slept. he
dug IL shallow grave and tossed me
In, and covered ne over with green
sods Of the garden. At dawn, he
and his brown-eyed brittle were miles
AVA on their return to England.
And there l lay ut the roots of the
Young 1.-the tree, and my dead flesh
gave strength To its branches. and
my blood gave The crimson to its
bloom. Bat the last red drop has
oeen sacked ont of my dust. See!
the tree is u dead thinG-only que
flower remains on It's topInos,
boush.'
The lIo,:an voice died away, tie
shadowy hands and spectral forro
vanished, and l saw only a pictured
woman in satin and pearl, smiling
out of Siit-framed canvass. ]
shook back my hair aud iookee
about me, ana:, warm. t;.wuy CLEAN
OF lig!! eiazz'ed my scorched Sense
OF vision. Harsh, munbiir.r tones
vexed my he;rins. | hat been
sleeping. and my ;snt:quated servan:
was trying 10 arouse my s:apet:e'!
perceptions to the brightness OF n
newborn day.
Mercy me-, miss. she cried, thew
drca9fully tirel you mast have beer
asst night to be sure! Why there
has not been another Ike 1t since !
WIS born. The thunder was Ike
an army OF artillery, AMI the light
ming was ike hnrsiing bonlbs,
Loo!, ut the old tree by the Window,
miss. Il is ripped up by the roots,
and every root is dead: and-such 4
strange thiug--tbere is IA knot OF
blossoms on the oldest and tal,est
Dough. J suproseit srew there be
cause the branch was nearest her
picture"
] stopped her loQuaeionsness.
while my strained nerves thrilled
with ea9erness.
What became of Gencsra &c
mmne?" | asked. DO you re!nenl-
Der her?"
"3Iercy ne. no. replied the
woman; but my mother was her
nimd before the poor lady uied III
the mad house
Nv hat made her insane?" | asked
4 suppose it was the will OF
God" was the answer.
"Whnt became of her husband9'
I asked again.
she never had one. MISS was
the reply.
But what has the gardenerfounts?
I should Ike to know
She hohbled to one, of the win
dows beside the portrait and pushed
it open. In the glory ofithe golden
dawn, l stepped ont, and standing
III a tansle OF dewwet roses, looked
down upon the fallen tree with the
tuft of bloom upon one rotted and
discovered limb, aGd. upen the
gnarled. iifaless roots. that had
been torn ont Of the earth by the
might of the midnight storm. And
! sawlemhrace,i in the network OF
roots, the slender bones of n human
skeleton. and a rusted blade. upon
the handle Of which a single dia-
mond shone Ike star.
No one ever identified the re-
mains. No enc ever presumed to
sueSs how they came there and
the my-tery of that night is q nnys-
terry still. Could it have been wholly
a dream? Or did an incident of
somnanbulism, viFified ~ i maEosei
mt INTO n tragic form