Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1879-12-04
NO. 29O.
GALES ano Skettbes.
GERALD EDWARDS MISTAKE.

hateful to him. wrestling with the long
memories Of home. The recollections OF
the past were heavy on him.
He was a man whom one looking at,
would have said was born for life in the
wilderness. Powerful in frame, strong in
spirit, fearless, bold to desperation, the
world was as nothing to him. He braved
the elements, and feared no danger; was
wild and reckless; may be he courted
death.
Yes life was bitterness to him, and
his heart was very heavy.
So true it is that we never to the full ex-
tent know the value of anything until we
have lost it.
| 1t was thus with Gerald Edwards; and
memory carried him back to a year ago,
in quiet English homestead of the fine
old country town of midland shire. The
old scene came before him once again;
and mingled with his vision Of the happy
faces which had filled that homestead.
came one fairer. brighter, dearer far than
all the rest. And what a face Not clas-
sic, not Greuzelike, not waxen pretty, but
fair and bright, grave, yet open; eyes
which looked out from fringe of lashes
with loves softest glance, which had SEEM
ed to him TO say, in their dumb eloauence
You are my love. my all, the world"
And SO hislife came back to him sitting
in that log cabin the faces mixed up with
things around, the old scene passing like
a panorama before his eyes. And thiswas
his story:
Years ago two brothers had stood hand
in hand by the bedside of dying father,
and promised him to live in love with one
another, to sacrifice to each other, to bear
and fOrbear. 1t would be easy to keep
that promise, they said to them YES.
They had always lived together om
childhood, had worked side by side on
their fathers farm, and not difference
had ever existed between them. It SEEM
ed so unlike that they, Jointly inheriting
the farm, would ever separate, that the
promise was readily given. The life in
that dear old place near the midland
country town was so uneventful, so richin
the luXuries of peace and good will, that
the sacrifice which their promise would
one day demand of them never could have
been believed had any prophet foretold it.
Yet it was to be, and it came when the
brothers had reached mans estate.
Across the bridge of the old mll-dam,
one evening in the spring, little light feet
trod and girl of bright beauty, light at
heart, and of merry voice, looked down
upon the rushing waters below; while,
above the rattle they made, her voice was
heard singing merry song, and filling
the quiet evening air in over-gladness of
heart.
Ida Rutland was the only daughter of
Squire Ru land, VINO lived at the hall in
the village, and VINO was at once half-lord
half-slave of the people. Food tor mind
or1physic. for body he woulddispense with
the ready heartiness of man who asked
the love of those beneath him, and Thought
his trouble well spent.
Ida Rutland was motherless and her
fathers idol. Pet though she was, he had
never spoiled her.
OF course, it was fate that led her to the
old mill-dam. The Squire had gone on
business into town, and she knew the time
he would return and also the very spot
where she could meet him. And she had
started for that purpose, but the rain had
been late that season, and there was dan
ger in the dam.
The waters were out and rushed down
with more than usual force, and the quss-
ton had been asked: "Would this dam
hold ?" AS Ida stood looking down into
the rushing water, increasing in bodily
force. as she sang little snatches of song
in the Joy and great gladness of her heart,
no sense of insecurity was felt by her;
and yet the wooden bridge on which she
stood shook by the waters rush, and that
was not unusual She would not have
long to wait, however, before her father
would arrive in the dog-cart which he
would drive from town, and she would
mount beside him and both would go home
together.
The sun had just gone down and the
gray light in the eastern sky was creeping
over to the west to put out the daylia:it
which the sun had left behind, and the air
was very still. Presently beside Ida !.
mans form appeared, and she turned ard
found it was Gerald Edwards, the otncr
brother.
He saluted her with gentlemanly ccH.-
tesy, and then asked:
"Do you think there is any danger,
Miss Rutland?"
"Danger?" replied Ida; "danger of
what ?"
"Of the mill-dam giving away" he an
swered. 1.-The water, fear, is increas-
ing, and certainly l think the bridge
shakes more than it did?'
81 did not notice it, she said, 81 was
waiting for papa and did not think of the
danger. But what do you think, Mr..
Edwards ?'
81 am afraid there is danger unless the
water goes down during the night. If it
were morning now, something might be
done to strengthen it; but as it is wemust
hope for the best. have warned the good
people in the cottage below that they must
watch all night. They have boat tied
at the door, so that should the dam burst
and the water reach the cottage, they will
take to the boat and trust to it,
"You are very thoughtful" she said
gravely; ''and that is why often wish
was a man. ! should never have provided
for such an emergency. But men are
brave"
Il am glad you think have done right
ly. Accepting your compliment, Miss
Rutland. viii you now allow me to sug-
gest that you should leave the andge. /
cannot think fe. ]. seems to me that
, the water has loosencd the supports, and,
if so, it may go any moment"
"Do you think SOP" she said.
"Yes," he answered gravely. "But