The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1893-11-22

other ond was ablaze with fire. With a
cry of "fire" he sprang forward and ran
with all speed to the burning house. The
villagers, awakened by the cry, left their
comfortable beds and followed. Tho
house to which their steps were directed
was the parsonage, and it had been
struck by lightning.
When the stranger arrived he found
that the minister and his family had
rushed from their burning home, and
that the former was already busy saving
the most valuable of his possessions.
The wife with her two children stood
shivering beneath tree, from which
great drops Of water fell now and then,
gazing with agonizing looks upca their
home, but seemingly unable to lend q
helping hand.
Even in his haste to reach and assist
the minister, who was making quick
visits to the house, the stranger noticed
that the mother pressed one child more
closely to her side than the other. 1t
was Achsah, who had been torn from
her bed where she had been suffering
from her nervousness, but now not a
trace of her disorder appeared. She
looked like one just brought back to life.
There were traces OF ill-health in her
face, but her countenance had under
gone change. The old querulous look
had disappeared and. in its place look
OF returning health had come. HeI
recent illness had been cured in an in.
slant, and she stood beneath the dripping
tree stronger than she had been for
years.
Either by the flash of lightning or by
the tragedy in the cabin in the woods:
she had been cured, and, strange as il
was, her attacks never occurred again.
For an hour the pioneers worked
dragging out the minister's furniture
and then stood around while the last
beams Of the unhappy home fell into tho
Goals below and were consumed. 'Da!
had not yet begun to break when the
homeless family was taken to neighbor'
ing houses and the village returned tt
their beds. In the confusion the strang'
er was not noticed, and none missed him
when he disappeared from the crowd.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE FINGER OF GOD.
When the first rays of morning light
broke through the forest, which circled
around Sagnauck, the next morning,
they sent dim lines of light between tho
trunks of trees along the water-soake0
ground. Little grass grew in those dark
depths; only here and there a fringe
abont tree or a cluster midway be-
tween, where the sun shone. But the
dark earth was rich, and here and there
a sky-tinted flower grew, with deeper
colors and more delicate tints than those
which bloomed beneath the sun.
The rays of light which were grad.
ually penetrating the forest from the
eastward, and casting faint shadows on
each side, were here and there obstructed
by fallen trees which broke the light
and cast shapeless shadows in its path
way. At first, and this was not long
after Dorothea had strangled her
babe, the rays of light which were going
straight upward for the sun beneath the
eastern horizon merely made gray the
darkness between and beneath the great
trees. Gradually the light increased and
gray paths grew between the trees, bor-
dered by shadows On either side. The
sun rose higher and the brook was en-
livcned by lis rays, and danced in morn
ing glee. How gayly the water dashed
over an obtruding stone and how mer-
rily it rushed around an obstructing
bank. The birds, too, were waking up
and rendering distant chirps through tho
woods. For, was not the whole world
merry again? The sun had risen, and
the brook and the birds were free.
The light shining through the woods
broad of tho N hut Orn dina 1lv
tapcred to point like great white fin
ger stretching along the ground. 1t was
like the finger of God pointing from the
line between heaven and earth, through
the woods to Sagnauck.
In Hillary's cabin there was finger OF
light, too. The baby fingers were still
and stiff, and the cruel hand which had
stilled them was at rest in sleep. Eg-
bert, too, was still sleeping in his chair
by the table when the rising sun sent its
rays through the forest.
Whose finger was it that was pointing?
Through the cabin window came the
first faint rays of the morning. A light
the breadth Of the window fell upon tho
sill and cast faint CLEAN upon the floor.
The slecpers slept on. Slowly the light
grew stronger and crept across the floor.
Inch by inch it moved: until it had
reached the floor beneath the bed upon
which Dorothea and the dead babe lay.
A pause. Then faint light touched tho
bed Good God! What does it mean?
Gradually but surely the light grew
stronger, and as it did so the finger rose
inch by inch upon the bed and pointed
across the coarse counterpane to where
The sdG va; risen. The day had
come, and the long white finger OF God
was pointing directly through the cabin
window to the bed, and the tip of the fin
ger rested on the throat of the murdered
child.
When Egbert awoke, the sun was
shining brightly In at the cabin window
and the finger had been absorbed into
the broad light OF day. He arose and
glanced around the room, sleepily.
Dorothea was lying quietly upon the
bed: but the child attracted his atten-
ton. It's neck was stretched out upon
the pillow, long and lark. 1t required
only glance for Ingram to understand
what had been done.
20, Dorothea! O, Cod" he cried,
Swhat shall I do? O, Dorothea, Doro-
thea, what have you donc?"
While Egbert was still bending over
the dead babe, neighbor knocked at
the door. He hesitated for a moment
and then opened it. The visitor was
woman who lived next to them and who
had come at break of day to tell them OF
the minister's misfortune and to o1er
her service to Dorothea. But no sooner
had she looked in at tho open door and
seen the dead babe on the pillows than
she turned and ran toward the village,
CRYING, "Murder Murder!"