Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1890-04-25

Lord Fenyll with his inevitable eyeglass.
She could not get rid of him; the miser-
able young man was too infatuated to
perceive her abstraction.
Little by little she drew near to part
of the boat where she thought she might
make the dreaded plunge most easily.
Tom, in the shadow of a sail, appeared
to be absorbed in a novel. No one, not
even himself, knew that the book was
upside down. Ethel stole a glance at
him. Will he be in time? she wondered
in an agony of fear and anxiety. How
blue the water was-and how deer!
What if-but no! mol she would not
think of that. Now was the time, she
decided feverishly.
"1s not that a sail, Lord Fenyll?" she
asked.
"a SAIL In which direction?' Eagerly
he took up his telescope. This was Just
the opportunity she wanted. Slowly he
swept the horizon with the glass.
"Why, yes he says. II see it quite
plainly. can even read the name on
oh, Miss Van zandt! Help! help."
With a shrek of terror she had disap-
peared over the side; only one terrified
scream, but in an instant the deck was
filled with eager, frightened faces
Lord Fenyll was rushing from one end
of the place to the other, dragging with
him an immense coil of rope, tangling
up himself and every one else, crying
out the awful accident at the top of his
voice.
Mrs. Van Zandt and another lady had
tainted; the gayety had vanished; all
was confusion and haste.
Tom saw nothing of this. He was in
the water before the echo of her voice
had died away on the startled air. With
firm, rapid strokes he beat the waves,
and his eyes were alert to catch the first
glimpse. The sun glared into his face
but he did not find her. His heart failed
him. God. he could not see her! Why
did she not rise? "Ethel!' be cried aloud
in frenzy. But what was that white
speck yonder? Could he reach it? A
moment more, only a momei.t more,
with ebbing power, as the white face
came to the surface he threw one arm
around the body. His strength all but
exhausted, he was taken with his lifeess
him. The glad news was shouted to the
waiting yacht, and willing help was
ready to greet the rescued and rescuer.
The little figure i'll its clinging white
seemed devoid of life The soft baby
curls around her forehead clustered dark
ly golden; the large drops of water slip
ped off one by one, till there were little
pools on the floor. Pale and pure and
still as death itself she was-ah pitt
fully still. The red, laughing lips were
pallid now; the soft white hands limp
and inert.
My girl. my little girl.' moaned and
sobbed Mrs. Van Zandt, and while they
talked in undertones, and while tears
fell, they took her below, and toiled for
hours to summon back the wavering
spirit.
Tom-unhappy Tom-was the hero of
the hour But he could not be quiet; he
could not wait in patierce. Great waves of
remorse filled his breast. till the drops stood
out upon his forehead and his lips whiten-
ed. The dull boom Of the sea seemed to
roar in his ears; he felt that ifeless body
still lying passive in his arms. Never again
to see her smile, never again to hear her
voice, with its gentle, tender accent;
never-ah, no! 1t could not be too late
she must not die! Up and down. outside
the door, he paced, listening to each
sound, wrestling with his misery, pray
ing to God as he had never prayed be-
fore. To the excited groups, gathered
here and there, he paid no attention at
all, nor indeed, did he even see them.
Blind to their curiosity, deaf to their
whispered words of wondering sympathy,
needless to remonstrance, alone with him
self. he suffered on his mental rack Min
utes passed like hours. There was lit
tie hope, bare chance of life for her.
but still it was hope. The glad news
spread, but the suspense to Tom became
still more torturing.
Suddenly the door opened again, and
Mrs. Van Zandt came out.
He dropped into chair and hid his
head in his hands. He heard her COM
ing directly toward him; to tell him-to
tell him-what? And then Mrs. Van
Zandt's arms were around his neck, she
was calling him her dear boy, her hero;
she was thanking him through her tears
and sobs. He hero. He could have
laughed aloud bitterly at the mock
cry of it. She was telling him that
Ethel had come back to them; she was
awake again; she wanted to see him;
would he come? With a Shocking in his
throat, he made his way to where his
little love was lying Mrs. Van Zandt
softly closed the door. and they were
alone.
White she was, like a bent lily; the
damp yellow hair lay over her pillow and
brushed back from her white forehead,
where his eyes saw the mark of a cruel
bruise, blow as she fell; but her lips
were smiling, and one hand was out
stretched to him. He could not take it.;
he sank on his knees at her side.
ethel, sweetheart, can you forgive
me?" he groaned, and with the words the
flood gates were swept away and he
sobbed aloud: Ethel, it was almost