The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1878-01-16

| IQrOuRQ SuCCosslOu VI uoU ooJ 20 phS
month went out. Before it had passed
Bertrode was taken sick-miserably i'll
of.fever. She suffered wearisomely, but
little could be done for her. 1t was
slow fever which must burn out lts
course. She was thirsty continually,
and suddenly in the midst of her suffer
ing, the spring which had supplied hel
with cool water grew dry, and all other
water tasted warm and brackish to hel
fevered lips.
"IfI only had some ice. mother /" she
moaned.
"I know, dear, but there is no ice in
less than twenty miles,"
Too i'll to express her misery, the
poor, fevered girl fell asleep, to dream
of the old yellow Grover Tract stage
straining it's way over the heavy sandy
roads to Northboro', the only place
where there was an ice-house-there to
procure for her great green block OF
the refreshing ice she coveted.
"It will be so nice !" she murmured
in her sleep. "My throat is parched,
and it will cool my drink 80 dellclouslyl
A cricket sang in the heated wall and
woke her. She heard the stage trundling
over the hill.
"Has it come, mother ?" she asked.
"What, dear? you are dreaming.
Wake up, and drink some of this nice
iced lemonade"
"Ice, mother! Where did you get it2
"Fennel has been to Northboro' tor
it. He's very kind to you, BERTHE, dear. "
"It's refreshing. How long have !
been asleep, mother
Call the afternoon, and really think
YOU look better, Bertie."
Bertrode turned on her pillow and fell
asleep again. In the morning she was
better, but not well. The pale lips were
still parched-the mouth 30 long fevered,
tasteless. She relished only the drinks,
iced and cool, which her mother pre-.
pared. One day she said:
GLOW is it that that ice lasts so?"
"Why Fennel goes to Northboro' for
fresh piece every other day. Tie
weather is so warm that it melts very
fast"
"But it's haying time. How can he
be spared? ?"
"He goes at night after eight o'clock.
don't see how he can do it when lie
works in the field until he is ready to
drop"
"Then why do you ask him, mother ?'
"Goodness, child I never asked him;
! I guess didn't! It's his own service. /
never dreamed of asking him."
Bertrode, bolstered up in bed, sat
silent awhile.
Fenneps very kind" she said at last
"but I don't like to tax people so.
Mother, if I am better tomorrow, can't
I ride out ?"
"Perhaps SC"
Tomorrow Bertrode was feverish
again. Nothing passed her parched lips
but yellow peach, a rareripe, that was
a wonder to the neighborhood.
"M here did it come from, mother?'
"Fennel brought it."
The next morning when she awoke,
gust of spicy GOODNESS whitfield into her
face.
"What is that2" she cried, starting
up.
Just q pitcher of sprays from the
scrub-oaks of the lowlands, their tender
pendant acorns swinging among the
glossy lAaves-branches of bayberry,
sweet ten, and q handful of checker
berry mixed with sweet swamp hello
trope, and wild asters. all dripping with
morning dew.
90, mother, bring it closer! Where
did you get it?' placing her thin, white
hands among the cool, sweet foliage.
"Fennel left it at the door this morn
ing. He thought it would please you. V
cit does please me-"
No one but Fennel knew how she
liked fragrant green leaves and swamp
heliotrope.
She was grateful, and she told Fennel
80 when she saw him. 70 prove it she
let him drive him her out and find her
roses again among the fields. AS the
light came back to her eye and the dim
pie to her cheek, she laughed merrily
sometimes, and forgot to look wistfully
! towards the mountains, as he had no.
ticed her doing so often two months
before.
One day she was pale and troubled
when Fennel came with his buggy. She
wac silent for few moments after they
began their drive.
"Fennel ?"
"Well ?"
care you going away9"
eyes,"
"Why, tell me, please?"
ct think had better"
That was all. She did not dare pretend
not to understand him. Both faces were
pale. He turned towards her at last,
smiling family.
eyes, BERTHE, you don't need me any
longer, and am going away to try as
hard as I can to forget you. 1t is
strange that such sweet-eyed girl
should cause 80 much pain, isn't it ?"
Bertrode didn't speak. They rode in
silence along the river road. Bertrode
was listening, as if charmed, to the
chirping of little bird among the scrub
oaks ~ the river. It was hearty,
cheery little bird that seemed to haveno
nonsense about it.
The road grew narrower. The tree
branches met above their heads and
gradually grew lower. Fennel put out
his whip to hold them out OF their faces.
The motion startled the horse-or he
might have been twanged by the spring
ing sprays. He leaped suddenly for
ward, and Bertrode was flung from the
carriage and down the steep bank into
the river.
Stunned by the shock, she foated like
a corpse. If she had seen Fennel
Gould's face, then, she would have Won
dered, even though she believed that
she knew his love. He drew in the
prancing horse, and flung himself from
the carriage. Dashing down the steep
declivity, he threw himself into the
river.
The tide was rapid. Already the
figure of the drowning girl, half sub:
merged, was floating into the middle OF
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