Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1889-02-14


terror. She said she saw a white bird at her
window in the night and, as she was going
to open the window, it flew upwards. She
says Guy is Ill OF dying. A telegram from
him has however changed the color of her
ideas, and she has just run into my dressing
room, dressed in her marquise costume, TO
tell me TO hurry, that the guests are arriving,
and Guy will be here before l am coffee.
PART H.-BY EVAN PALMER, NJ D., OF
TREDEGAR.
1t is just five years ago tonight since wit
messed the saddeSt scenes have ever, in nv
experience as medical man, beheld. and
which L can never forget. 1t was on this
evening, the eleventh of July, in the wear
IS, that there occurred that fearful railway
accident which is still recalled by the simple
village folk with horror and grief too deep
for WORDS. 1t was about half-past sever, and
fair July evening; was in my room, dress
Ing for ball and theatricals at Tredegar.
when man on horseback came daShing up,
and In moment Margery Dawse, my house
keeper, was knocking at my door, her face
white with terror
For Heavens sake, sir, gor' she said al
most incOherently. There has been a rail-
way accident at the station, and a number Of
people are dyingr
A few words from the messenger confirm
ed her statement; the down-train had dashed
into an up-train from Launceston. and the
casualties were fearful.
Take my horse and go, Doctor" he said
''They are all at the station. Some are dead,
others are dying, and the Squire"
He paused, unable to proceed; and, spring
ing upon his horse, I dashed off, trying to
think it improbable that Guy Tredegar was
IN the collision, and praying that, if such had
been the caSe he had not been seriously
hurt. Something brought to my mind Miss
Leonhardt's bright face and veIvety dark
eyes, and l hoped that she was spared such
sorrow. found the little station in terri
bic state of cOmmOtion. The collision had
been fearful one. Help had been obtained
from all quarters; but the wayside station
looked more like an ambulance than anything
else, the sufferers being placed on mattresses,
rugs, or benches, where some lay grooming,
while others were in the stiffness and silence
of insensibility or death. For moment I
paused, hardly knowing where to begin,
when Mr.. Jameson, the station-master, his
white face full of perpleXity, distress, and
despair, caught me by the arm.
Mr.. Tredegar is here" he said brokenly;
and he led me into his own cottage, where,
on a couch, lay Guy Tredegar.
My first glance showed me that for him
there was no hope. He was sensible, and
gave me a faint smile.
Don't waste your time here Palmer" he
said, in faint low tones; ''there are others
who need you. l am-dyingI Rush-old
fellow! Don't grieve. 1 am sure-l saw
and he smiled again-''the White Lady the
night-befOre left town."
All my entreaties to be useful to him were
In vain.
''Their need is greater than mine" he said.
$50 to them, Palmer-Only tell me before
you go if-yOu think L shall live until BERTHE
comes"
He smiled at my eager Alternatives; and I
went out to do my best for the sufferers, re-
turning to him in an hour. His spine had
been injured, and already the lower limbs
were paralyzed. He looked up eagerly.
Palmer, why dOsen't BERTHE come? I shall
die without seeing her-poOr little onel L
should have been t&irty tomorrow, Even
you see the White Lady keeps her word"
Even as he spoke, the sound of horses
hoOfs and carriage-Wheels suddenly stopping
reached us.
THAT is Bertiep' he said; and in a minute
she was kneeling beside him, her face hidden
Oh his breast.
-Ilo. ICOIlldLOI dIlU MISS ITeu6SdT were
with her; and even in that scene of distress
could not help being struck by the contrast
between their gay dresses and the misery and
suffering around. Miss Leonhardt was dress
ed like Louis XVI. marquise, her hair DOW
lered and little patches on her fair face, from
which every shade of color had departed;
but she was quite calm.
Mrs. Leonhardt looked at me questioning
hI1+ cI,o1y
Guy, from his pillow, smiled at her, and held
out one hand to his sister. Poor Jean Tired
egar! The beautiful dark face looked in It's
anguish as if it were turned to stone; the
girls tall slim figure, quantity dressed III
straight simple gray gown, white kerchief
knotted around her throat, seemed bent and
bowed under the load of her despair. She
was thinking, she told me afterwards, of her
brothers parting words to Miss Leonhardt
few days previOusly-"Heaven help you, my
chiIdP' Were they prophetic? Softly cana
Bertie's voice breaking the silence.
do you suffer much, my dearest?'
''NOt much, nlig7lOnne-a numbed seIssa-
ton, that is all. Palmer says shall not SUI
fer"
''Thank Heaven! Have you anything to
say to me, Guy? Is there anything l can dc
or continue for you%
How silver-clear the sweet tones were!
''Yes-much. BERTHE, you know l was
warned Of this. [ saviour White Lady-so
made my will in town. Tredegar is yours,
my darling! Be kind to our people there
when you can't will hurt you yet while.
Come and live there-and do my work; and.
my dearest, if you ever bring some one there
to help and guide you'll shall be glad to
knOW-that you are happyP
She raised her eyes to his in mute reproach.
sit is hard for you, my poor pet" he said,
shut not harder than for others. All, BERTHE,
there is so much to do and so little time to do
it in! If l had known All, well, my
half-day's work is dOneI Hush, Bertiei
Don't grieye-pOor dearW
She bent over him and kissed him In 81
hnce.
Take care of auntie Gracie-I leave her
to you; and, Berthe Who is that? Old
ham! Don't look so grieved, old feliowW
'Oh, Guy, would have died for youW he
said, bending over him. his very lips pale
with anguish.
Dear old friend, it is better thus. MrA
Leonhardt, you will make him happy. Ber-
tie''-with faint happy smile
''Yonder the silver-footed light
Is stealing along the sand
M1gfO7l7e, can you sing IL Tor me just onceF
Could she? All, woman's love, so strong
and true! Softly the rich voice rose, hemu-
lous at first, then growing frmer as she went
on
"'Heayy, heavy the laden net
Weary the fishers be;
The stormy hair of the wind Is wet
And he dashes his tears in the sea.
Drenched with the cold and angry night
Pull, brave hearts, for the land;
Yonder the silver-fOOted light
Is stealing along the sand.