Rocky Ford enterprise., 1895-02-14
CHAPTER XIII.
Rlancha'a Agony.

w lbu u low bCFotsiu, lTOLou upOu uoE
lips in the very act OF utterance,
Blanche de Gavrolles, still clasping
the medallion in her hand, fell sensS-
less by the bed. How long she lay
thus she could not tell; presently, how
ever, she stirred, and opened her
eyes; then, rising on her knees, she
crawled, drawn by some fatal fascina-
ton, to the bedside, clutched the COW
erlet, and gazed wildly at Hartmann,
who lay upon his back, breathing
heavily. Clinging on and painting,
with eyes wide open and dilated pu-
pills, she looked and looked-as
doomed creature looks on the appari-
ton of death. Then, struggling to
her feet, and raising her arms in the
air, she uttered a moan most sad and
pitiful, full of horror and infinite
despair.
"Father! father!"
It was supreme mercy for her that
In that awful moment her reason did
not snap like silken thread. Her
eyes were fearless, her heart as cold
as ioe within her. She was like a
lamb stupefied by murderous blow.
All she could do was to utter that
faint wailing cry
"Father! father!"
Gradually she began to realize it
all. She beheld the dying face up
lifted in the starlight, the feeble
hands clinging round the murderer;
she heard the last sad words, the
piteous message, given in the voice
she knew so well. And the murderer
L. fof Ha1
brought there by her compassion,
saved twice from miserable death
by her ministering care. She tottered
70 the bedside again, and gazed upon
him, her hands clenched, her face
like marble. Her whole soul sickened
to behold him. She longed to drag
him from that shelter, and cast him
forth into the chilling snow.
Meantime the German had begun to
breathe more painfully. Hall opening
and shutting his eyes, and moving his
head restlessly from side to side, he
seemed struggling with some sharp
internal pain. His right hand, lying
upon the coverlet, opened and shut
convulsively. He murmured family,
as If talking to himself.
Was he dying? Blanche asked her
self. Yes-God was good after all
he must be dying. Then his life was
in her hands, after all. She had but
to stand still, not lifting a finger, and
still avenge her father. What she had
done already, she had done in blind
ness; but 1t was not too late to
Justify herself, to redeem the wick
edness of having sheltered and sue
cored him!
Again she uttered that low, despair
ing cry; then, covering her face with
her hands she rushed into the outer
room and fell moaning upon her knees.
Not to pray; she could not pray.
Not to weep; not a tear would flow.
Only to shudder as If with cold, and to
moan over and over again, Father!
father!''
Hark! A feeble cry, like call for
help, came from the sickroom. She
started, but kept her place. In few
minutes the cry was repeated; but still
she did not stir. She strained her
eyes up at the dark heaven. Her
father was there, somewhere beyond
those troubled clouds. All! that she
might 90 to him-that he could beck
on her out of the shadows of the
grave, and call her to his side.
The cry came again. She turned
and staggered rather than walked
back to the sick chamber, pausing at
the door like a ghost, and gazing in.
The man had changed his position, and
with both his arms thrust above his
head, was lying back without the pill
low, which had fallen TO the door.