Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1886-10-02
BESSIE.
The Tragedy Of My Life.

Out amidst the bowling, winter winds;
out from my door into the dread, dark.
desolate night, l drove her.
One hour before, her beautiful head
was resting upon my knee; her trust
full, soulful, dark, liquid eyes gazing,
with the love of idolatry, into mine
My hand was toying with the soft, nut
brown hair that glorified her; I would
have sworn, then, that nothing but
death should part us.
A slight, involuntary action of hers
reused the internal temper that was
born in me, and drove her forth, out
of my house-her home-from the
wsrm, glowing fireside, into the terrors
of that fearful night.
At the threshold she paused-only
for moment. No sound escaped her
lips, but those glorious eyes were more
eloquent than words in supplication,
wonderously pathetic in appeal.
"Go!" l said, as l stood with the door
open. and my hand pointing to the
outer darkness.
Slowly and sadly, with quiet dig
nifty, she went.
My sisters tears fell silently, and my
younger brother muttered curse
against my heartlessness under his
breath. But was master, and none
dared to dispute my will.
l tr ed to appear unmoved, but as
the tempest blasts whirled about the
homestead, and howled down the Chin
neys, and ratified the solid shutters,
the thought of Bessie ont in the ter
rible storm, drenched with rain, chilled
by the wild winds, crouching in some
poorly protected nook, took possession
of me, and threw myself on the lounge
and hid my face.
But temper and pride would not per-
init me to give way l could not mus
ter enough of manhood to go to the
door from which had driven her and
shout into the night those words of
forgiveness and recall that my heart
yeirned to utter.
The family well understood my
moods. They did not attempt to inter-
fere. One by one, as the hours went
on, they departed to their respective
rooms.
At last too sought my bed; but
sleep I could not. I he war of the ele-
ments ragged with ever-increasing fury
through all that wakeful night.
And poor, innocent, loving, true,
patiInt, faithful Bessie 1 had exposed
to these terrors.
Where was she?
could hear the moaning and groan-
ing of the trees about my home and in
the forest near by, for ours was farm
in the far West, and ever and anon
there would come the sharp cracking,
the awe-inspiring crash of some mon
ster that had yielded before the blast
and stretched its tall form upon the
earth.
Twas the most horrible night of my
life.
At daylight saddled my horse. and.
in ogony and penitence, sought tho
few neighbors for five miles around.
None of them had seen Bessie; all of
them wondered that she should be away
from the home where she was so ten
derby loved, so carefully guarded. She
would have been gladly welcomed by
any OF these good people, and every
comfort their means permitted would
have been lavished upon her, had she
presented herself at their doors.
But they knew nothing of her.
Filled with remorse and utterly dis
consulate, 1 turned my tired horse
homeward. My feelings were in accord
with the desolation and wreck that
marked the tornado's paiL, and
abandoned the road to fight my way
through the forest.
was within mile of my house when
a low moaning sound fell upon my
Tears; the horse halted before an OBJ
rIction of three great trees pros
trated and with branches entangled.
The les of pain were nearer, and l
cast my lance about.
Great heaven! What did I see?"
Bessie! Crushed to the earth be-
meath funk of ma9eter tkvy9er.
Her eyes met mine She could utter
no sound save those of suffering and
exhaustion.