The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1892-11-16
BEATRICE'S MISTAKE.

ing clouds that have been rising dur
ing the day now hung heavily over the
little village of Clifton.
The wind has gone down with the
sun and the air is warm and heavy,
not a sound save the drowsy notes of
single bird mars the awful stiffness
of the night.
1t had been one of the warmest days
in August, and the people of the little
riverside village of Clifton had aban-
doned work of all kinds. The sun had
shone brightly during the fore part of
the day. but the heavy clouds from
the west was soon hid from view. The
wind had blown gently from the south,
and now that having gone down all is
silence. a great calm has settled over
all.
"We will have rain, fear. Tell me,
Beatrice, how is the weather now?"
and the old man moves uneasily in his
bed while his daughter answers.
"You say the river is low. You are
sure the bridge is sound? You are
sure, Beatrice?" he asks, impatiently.
Yes, father" is the brief reply.
at is growing very dark, my child.
When were you at the bridge lastP"
about O'Clock, three hours ago.
I looked closely and everything seem
ed SAFE" is the girls answer, and the
old man lapses into silence.
''You know, Beatrice, they run
special tonight 1t will reach the
bridge by H." he continued, turning
quickly to his daughter, who sits at
his bedside.
yes, know, but why are you so
nervous, father?" And the girl rises
to light the lamp, for the room is in
tensely dark. The old man makes no
answer. Why can he not trust his
daughter tonight? She has attended
to his work at the bridge for three
weeks now and has worked faithfully,
yet tonight seems full of danger. The
great stiffness does not mean peace.
Beatrice, my dear, 60 to the door
and look toward the bridge. See if the
lights are burning"
The young girl turns and answers
impatiently:
1--WE can't see the bridge from here,
father. Don't you remember we never
| could since Robins built that house be-
tween here and the river?"
81 thought we could" murmurs the
old man, and again all is stiffness.
Suddenly the girl turns from her
work
''Who runs the special, fatherP" she
asks quickly.
No answer.
Father, who runs throught at lip"
"Oh-oh-yes-John Tracy" is the
answer and the girl turns to her work.
Her face had flushed, but is now as
pale as death. A strange light shines
in the great, dark eyes. John Tracy
H1 He
in her ears. She goes to the door and
peers out into the night. All is dark
ness and a few drops of rain are be-
ginning to fall. She steps out and
looks toward the river. Now she fam
cies she sees a light in the distance.
Oh, surely the lights are still burning
no wind to blow them out. But per-
haps she had better take better notice.
She cannot see the bridge, because OF
Robins barn, but she remembers what
she did one time when Tracy's train
was expected. She climbed up onto the
roof of their own little hut. from where
a good view of the river and bridge
could be had, and she saw the two
bright lanterns swinging merrily in
! the distance. Without further thought
she again reaches the top of the house
distant clock tolls the hour of 10. Ii
one hour the special is due at the
, bridge IT'S raining heavily now anC
the roof being wet it is difficult for bel
: to stand. She creeps cautiously NJ
to the very top of the roof and then
clinging to the chimney, draws herself
up to her full height. Now she car
look over Robins house and have 8
f full view of the bridge. All is dark
ness. Not light of any kind meet
! the gaze of the great, dark eyes of the
girl Her heart beats faster and fast
er. Oh, why hadn't she gone to thi
trouble when her father asked her t.
look toward the bridge. She haC
thought of the housetOp then-but-
| she had not thought of John Tracy
Hadn't her father told her tha
morning that Fillmore would rul
through at IL? And hearing Geralt
Fillmore's name affected her so little
1t only awakened a great hatred fo
him in her heart, and when her fathe
asked her to look toward the bridg
she seemed to care so little whethe
the lights were burning or not. No
n thought of the many lives beside
the engineers entered her mind.
Every minute she fingers here, peer
t ing into the darkness, brings the spec
iaI nearer to the bridge, and turnin
:, away she creeps quietly down and er
Il ters the house.
"Where have you been, Beatrice?
hear the rain. What is the time
child?" asks the old man, turning h
gaze upon his daughter.
: Beatrice stands quietly in the Ger
ter of the room, gazing at the clock.
"It is 1920" she answers, nerVOu
If ly. and throwing a shawl over he
head she goes up to her fathers bee
D side.
e "I am going out, father. 1t doesn
rain very hard" she says in a strang
low voice. The old man looks up
her. She bends over and presses
kiss upon his withered cheek.
Where, my childP ~ Where such
night and at this time?" ne asks, b
she Is gone.
Thu p;rd has risen and il blOwir