The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1881-01-27

| a bow. Rocks, trees, houses seemed
racing past on either side. No need to
strain at the oars now! all that could be
done with them was to keep the boats s
bow perfectly straight. so as to offer as
little space as possible to the rush of a
current which seemed well able to carry
away an entire city.
Suddenly there came dizzy plunge
| "a shock that threw both men from
their places-and then all around was
one boiling whirl of foam, and the boat
was flung to and fro, and dashed up
and down, amid an uproar that seemed
to rend the very sky. For one feverish
moment life and death seemed to hang
by hair; and then the two daring men
found themselves floating on the little
border-line of calm water that sepa-
rated the first fall from the worse peril
| of the second.
"Hurrahr' shouted Montague, glee-
fully; 'who says it can't be done now?
Keep her head straight, Sed. my boy,
and We'll come out all right yet"
The triumphant cheer was answered
the two oarsmen, looking up, beheld
Marion Wentworth rushing distractedly
toward the edge of the high bank that
overhung the second fall, followed by
Montague's English servant. At the
sound of his betrothed's voice, Mon
tague turned his face toward her, and
waved his hand cheerily; and seldom
has any painter conceived such pict-
ure as the one which that moment
branded forever on the memory of those
who saw it. The stern black rocks on
either hand, flecked with living green
by the shrubs that clung to their craggy
sides; the vast hill of leaping foam, half
way down which the frail boat lowered
like a leaf; the rainbow-arch that
spanned the black howlng gulf be-
meath; the glory of the sunrise stealing
softly into the pure, peaceful sky, in
strange contrast with the rock-rending
uproar below; the stalwart figures of
the. two gallant lads, straining every
nerve to achieve their perilous task;
the handsome, reckless face of the ''last
of the Montagues, with a gay smile on
its short curved lip, and an ominous
glitter in its large dark eyes.
Good morning my petn' cried he
gayly; '''you' re just in time for the end
of the play"
These were the last words that Wis
count Montague ever spoke. That
momentary negligence had allowed the
DOste W oONithoC lloih SiO
direct line, and in an instant the whirl
of the current threw its exposed side
full against the tremendous rush of the
cataract. One frantic struggle to re-
gain the lost ground, and then boat and
men vanished forever into the midst of
the roaring abyss below.
From that fatal hour, life was over
for the ssFlower of Kent" All that re-
mained of the once bright and beautiful
girl was Il pale, silent, joyless phantom
"a body, as it We're, without soul.
Neither the tender care of her heart
broken mother, nor even the sight of
her dead lovers ruined home fhe
burning of which. on the very day of
its masters death, fulfilled, by a sheer
coincidence,-the dismal prcdiction)
availed aught to break that deadly
lethargy which endured for the brief
remainder of her life, checkered only
by the spasms of convulsive agony in
variably produced by the one sound
which her ear still had power to recog-
nize-the sound of rushing waters.