The Vancouver independent. (Vancouver, W.T. [Wash.]) 1875-1910, 1883-05-17


company him, and undertook the prepar-
alton for the journey.
About noon an Indian runner came in
on snow shoes with an extra mail. There
was one letter for Fitzgerald, and the
handwriting WAS that of his wife. I
sent the letter to his room. In about
half an hour l knocked at his door, a nd
he said, "Come in"
He was sitting before table, leaning
on it with folded arms. As if antici-
pating and wishing to evade inquiry, he
said:
81 suppose you have been getting
things ready?'
Eyes. We can leave at any minute" 1
answered.
81 am undecided about going now.
think will put it off until to morrow, at
all events. am sorry to have given you
SO much trouble"
Just at you please; am indifferent"
I said.
"What a good fellow you are indeed /,
Jack !" he said, standing up and looking
at me.
A casual observer might have thought
his face only pale from overwork or want
OF rest. To me it was almost dead, like
fine portrait, without any light in the
eyes.
I thrust my hands in my pocket and
shufaed my feet, overcome by the EN-
barrassment which words of kindness al.
ways excite in me.
to do for YOU"
''The kindest thing you can do is to let
me alone"
sided to the door.
do go, jack he burst out, impet-
uously. - can't bear to have even
you"
Before he could finish the sentence 1
was on the other side OF the door.
1 felt that Mrs. Fitzgerald letter had
merely confirmed the newspaper report.
If the marriage, which had been but o
legal form, could be annulled. sus.
pected that Fitzgerald would do it.
had no doubt that he would s,orn to
strike the woman who wounded him
MORALLY. When I fell asleep that
night all suspicious and beliefs had
merged into burning anger against her,
and determination to seek the oppor
tunity to indict on her some imperisha-
BILE i'll.
fell asleep with this one idea in my
brain, and was awakened from that
sleep by cry:
Jack! jack Help! Help"
My senses were penetrated by the voice
of q man in agony, crying for succor,
crying to me, and the voice was the voice
of my friend Fitzgerald.
tried to lift myself from my bed, but
q heavy weight held me down. strug-
gled to speak, but my tongue was tied.
1 rubbed my eyes, but the lids seemed
glued. At last they parted slowly, and
I saw that OF which my mind has never
lost the faintest impression. I was not
lying on my bed; was not in the low,
square room, witk half q dosen nen
sleeping about me. was standing on
the rivers bank several miles away, be-
low the station, standing there alone in
the awful stiffness OF winter night in
the wilderness. The moonlight was
SO brilliant that every object was dis
tinctly visible.
saw not twenty feet from me break
in the ice, and the blue water bubbling
up clearly. Above the water rose q
mans fair, strong head, and two hands
grasping, trying to lift the body beneath
up to the ice, which broke and crumbled
away from their touch.
He was dying before my eyes, and 1
could not stir an inch to save him. I
saw plainly the beating of his hands
grow feebler and the tension of his face
relax.
"Spsre her. Jack spare her z" he
cried.
was silent.
Then once again he cried, and that
sound think will always echo about the
world with me:
"Speak to me; give me sign"
forgot my hatred Of her and my re-
solve to hurt her; was sensible only Of
his pitiful pleading. By great effort l
Nung up my right arm as sign OF &C.
quiesence.
His hands fell, his head sank backward
and the blue water sparkled AID dubbed
in tho moonlight. shouted, "Fitzger-
adj Fitzgerald / seemed to spring
forward, when the whole scene was trans
formed.
/ was sitting up in bed, and the
watch hanging by the fire way saying.
drowsily:
whats the matter? What are you
making such . row about?'
Where is Fitzgerald" said, Look
ing round, and seeing that his place in
The row Of mattresses WAS vacant.
He went ont about an hour ago. He
said be couldn't sleep, and was going to
skate up the river to Thompson's sta.
tion."