Daily Kennebec journal., 1884-07-02
Gales aud Skftfhfs.
ACROSS fHE MERIDIAN.
(Continuea from yesterday. }


The weeks passed by, and Kortland
found his health. which had been some
what impaired by his professional labors
and which he had come to the south to
recuperate. entirely restored. Yet he was
in no haste to return to the work which
he had been so 10th to leave. Indeed, the
heat of the summer was upon him in its
utmost intensity. and yet he could not
break the spell which held him to the
south. What was this spell? Was it the
occasional glimpses he caught as he rode
by of girls figure at work in strip ol
cotton or corn down in the rich bottom
land? Or the glanees he had two or three
times received from pair of defiant eyes
under the brim of broad straw hat as he
encountered their owner in the road?
SAT any rate" he said to himself one
night as he entered his room, ''you are a
fool; this has got to end; and you start
for the north to- morrow
He had passed the old Everett planta-
tion returning from his evening ride; the
night was brilliantly moonlit; he had left
his horse in the shadow of some trees,
and walked up the long cedar shaded
drive which formerly led to the house.
A shorter, shaded path led to the quarters,
and this he had followed till he could see
the door of one of the cabins, and before
it in the light of the moon young girl
seated at the feet of white-haired old
negro. against whose knee she leaned her
head while they sang .together-she in a
fresh sweet contralto. he in the quavering
tones OF age - an old plantation ditty,
simple and plaintive.
He had stolen away unnoticed, and had
ridden slowly home, with feeling in his
heart that was something akin to despair.
1t was the consciousness of this feeling
which had elected his sudden exclamation
and resolve.
1t was near daybreak when knock at
his door aroused him, and frightened
prayer took him to the bedside of one of
the servants of the house. 1t was yellow
fever.
That settled the question of his depart
ure for him. He remained where he was,
and in the terrible days which followed
no help that he could give was withheld.
So faithful and efficient was he that soon
the Yankee doctors" was a name upon
the lips of everyone, and never uttered
without word of commentator and
gratitude.
Alone-for the old physicians who had
long held the practice of the little place in
monopoly had early succumbed to the
fever-he fought the terrible disease, bat
Ting with courage which inspired others
and kept them from despair through all.
One rainy night after the epidemic had
passed its crisis, Kortland, returning from
visit at a distance, and dismounting
from his weary horse at his door, found
woman's figure standing by his door which
he knew even in that dim light. The
voice which addressed him was so stifled
as to be almost inaudible: "Forgive me-"
it said; II was insane-I did not know !;
you are noble and good. They have the
fever-Uncle Jake and Nanny. Oh, for
Gods sake. comet -
Kortland's heart throbbed so violently
that it was moment before he dared to
trust his voice to speak. Then he said.
quietly. 81 will go at once;" and. re-
mounting, he rode away with as much
speed as he could get from his jaded beast.
But she was at the cabin almost as soon
as he. eagerly and efficiently helpful, des
pite the agony of sorrow and helplessness
which possessed her as she saw how little
science and love could avail against the
relentless death that was fighting for pos
session of the poor old black bodies she
loved so well. For it was in vain that he
expended all his knowledge and she all
her tender care the second morning, with
a last faithful, loving look from his dim
eyes, and last gentle murmur of "Good-
by, little Missy dom you to cry for me" :"
Uncle Jake had fallen asleep, and a few
hours later, old Nanny, too, had passed
away.
That evening Ellen Everett stood before
four graves, two of them freshly made /;
for she had lain the bodies of the old
blacks here, "beside her other parents, :"
as she said. In the utter stiffness which
falls with the setting of the sun, she could
hear, far down the road, the departing
footsteps and voices OF the men who had
borne her only friends to their resting
place at her feet. She listened to them
until they had faded away, and then stood
listening still-for one more sound. No;
they were gone, and she was alone, alone,
alone forever.
So she cried wildly, as she threw her.
self down among the graves, casting to
the winds the self-control which had never
wavered until now.
But she was not alone. for hands strong
er than her own took them and held them
in close, steady grasp. and, in fright
ened glance, she saw the strong sympathy
in the manly face which she had learned
to trust and turn to in the last two days.
As naturally and as thankfully as a child
she accepted it. and laying her face upon
his arm wept out the first bitterness OF her
grief there. 1t was not long before she
had wept herself quiet, but she did not
raise her head for some time, and when
she did so perceived that the night had al
most fallen.
Disengaging her hands from his, she
rose to her teet, then again extended them
to him as he stood by her side.
Good night" she said. You cannot
know how thank and bless you for your
kindness. Good night"
"Oh! child" he cried, retaining her as
she would have turned away, 81 cannot
leave you here. cannot let you go back
to that lonely old cabin alone"
Il must" she said. sadly; l have no.
nowhere else to CO."
NELL" he said. eagerly. if you will
have it so, you need never return there
you and | need never part, if you will
be my wife. Nell"
She uttered a low cry, and drawing her