Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1892-01-08

| bat kindly faces on every side, and muir
INJURED:
Where am l? Who calls me?''
You are quite SAFE | cried; safe, and
| among friends
Again she looked up into my face, as il
| stupetied. | held the flask to her lips, and
! she seemed to swallow little; then shud-
| der ran through her frame, and she released
| herself from my hold.
| placed her on one of the wooden seats,
and bent over her tenderly watching her.
| Gradually | saw the color come back to her
cheeks, but very family.
Anita ~ she murmured, and looked round
| as III seeking some one.
| The rough fellows, clustering in the boat
house, murmured sympathizingly; whispered
| encomiumS on her beauty passed from mouth
to mouth. And indeed she looked strangely
| lovely, even in her desolation-her eyes
| Frightening. her color coming and going, her
| hair streaming over her shoulders her neck
! and arms and feet as white as driven snow!
| As her strength and consciousness return
| ed, new awe fell upon me, and / stood
| timidly watching her.
She gaZed at me again.
Now l understand" she said. "Tell me
of the others; are they saved?''
/ told her the truth, and again she shud-
! dered half closing her eyes as if to shut out
| the picture of the horrors of the wreck. At
| that moment some of the life-boat's men APP
| peared, leading with them the colored wo-
man, who, the instant she saw Madeline,
| sprung toward her and knelt by her side
| Historically sObbing, and kissing her hands.
| Madeline bent over her and addressed her
in some foreign Observation-Disclosures, after
! ward discovered. She answered volubly in
fhn I tod tl,s,4
this black girl was an attendant or waiting
| maid of some sort, and that Madeline was
| her mistress
Turning to one of the rescued sailors, who
had now approached and was phlegmatically
| chewing a Quid as if he had Just been com
| fOrtably landed from passing boat | QueS-
| toned him concerning the lost vessel. She
| was large trading-Steamer he said, bound
| from Demerara to the port of London; her
NAME the Valparaiso; her captain one John
! StetSOn, good sailor, who had been killed
| by the falling of the foremost and swept
| overheard. Her passage across the Atlantic
! had been smooth and pleasant; but the night
| before she had experienced all the strength
| of the great gale, and while cOntending with
| it had broken her propeller After that, she
| had tried to lie to under sail, and had she
found sea-rOom would doubtless have been
able to weather the storm; but, as ill-luclI
would have it, the rocks OF Cornwall were
| right under her lee and the wind and sea
| swept her down upon them.
| questioned him concerning that episode
| of the boat. He explained that two of the
| boats had been smashed into fragments
when the ship first struck. The long-boat
| remained, and at daybreak, after the cap
tain periShed the first officer, fancying that
| the ship was doomed, determined to make
| for shore All the crew followed him but
| my informant and two others, who preferred
| sticking by the steamer to facing certain
! death. The men, in fact, We're mad with
| fright and drink combined, and for this rea-
| son, perhaps, altogether forgot to wait for
| Madeline, who had gone below.
| SO the last boat left the ship. 1t had not
gone far when Madeline reappeared. She
| would have been swept away but for the as
sistance of the sailors, who strapped her to
the mast as the only chance of safety; and
| as she stood there terOrStricken, she saw
the boat inglIIfed with all its crew. the same
| sad sight which we had seen from land.
| 1t turned out, on further questioning, that
| Miss Graham was the only passenger, and
| occupied with her cOlOred maid. the cap
tain's own cabin. Her father, a rich De-
merara planter, had died some months be-
|
heritance. | had no time to answer for my
self the many questions which crowded upon
my mind-Why Madeline had come to Eli
| gland? Whether she had any relations sur
| viving in the FOld country? Whether any
| living person, lover or friend, had the right
| to protect her? But | looked at her again,
| and thought how different she was from all
| the other women bad known, III her queen
| ly grace and warmth of beauty. Beside her,
even my cousin Annie would have looked
coarse and common.
But there was no time to be lost, if she
was to escape the consequences of that
| nights exposure. She was still dripping
wet, and the morning air was bitterly cold.
You must not stay here | said, APP
I preaching her, ''Or you will catch your death.
Do you think you can ascend the cliffs? My
aunt'S cottage is close by, and should like
to take you there at once"
| She rose at once, Shivering, and took my
arm. Half leading, half supporting her, l
| guided her out Of the boat-house and up the
steep ascent leading to the summit of the
crag, my uncle helping her upon the other
side. Some of the others followed, leading
the cOlOred girl.
1t was steep climb; and before we had
gone far we found that her strength was fail
| ing her. so that we were compelled to raise
her bodily in our arms; but she was light and
fragile enough, and, for my own part, could
| have carried her like d child.
Once ON the summit, we rested again,
| while some of the men went in chase OF
moor pony, one of several grazing on the
moor hard by. When it was secured, and
bridled and btted with stout rope, L lifted
her upon it, and placed the black girl by her
side; and thus, still holding her and walking
| by her SIDE while the men followed behind
like a procession, conducted her to our cot
tage and handed her over to the care of my
| kind aunt
Thus God, in mysterious fashion, had re-
stored to me the Icing who had been to me
for so many years a sweet memory and de-
| lightfuI vision. l felt strangely happy, yet
| troubled; unable yet to realize what had
| taken place. When my aunt had led Made
| line to chamber upstairs, where she tend
ed her with motherly sympathy and tender
ness, / sat in the kitchen, waiting and won
! dering, like one in a dream.
| CHAPTER XIV.
| A SUNBEAM IN THE COTTAGE.
| 1t seemed as If the days of my boyhood
| - 49,.