The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1896-11-27

| gone many feet, by other rivulets, an1
| from a point midway in the descent
| where the cliffs were steepest, came uT
| tireless murmur of the evergreens
| made UP the music of this upper sane
tuary, until Constance's voice rose from
the rocky table, sweet, full, exultant:
"The wild streams leap with headlong
sweep
In their curbless course o'er the noun
tain steep;
All fresh and strong they foam along,
Waking the rocks with their cataract
song.
My eye bears glance like the beam on
lance
AS l watch the waters dash and dance.
burn with glee, for love to see
The path of anything that's free.
l love-I love-oh, love the free!
| love-I love-I love the freeI
''The skylark springs with dew on his
wings,
And up in the arch of heaven he
sings
'Tra-la-tra-la! Oh, sweeter far
Than the notes that come through a
golden bar.
The thrall and the state of the palace
gate
Are what my spirit has learned to
hate"
The strain ceased abruptly, and, in
place of the rapt musician, borne above
the power of earthly woes to crush and
petty veXations to sting, a woman grow
elled upon the mossy cushion, weeping
hot, fast tears, and beating against the
rough rock with child's folly OF des-
peration the white hand that wore the
badge of her servitude.
What was she but a Gagged bird, bid
den to preen it's feathers and warble
the notes its master dictated between
golden bars? A slave to whom state
and thrall meant one and the same
abhorrent thing? What had she to do
henceforward with dreams of beauty
and freedom-she, who had signed
away her liberty of spirit and person,
voluntarily accepting in their stead
the most foul captivity a pure and up
right woman can know? She felt her
self to be utterly ile-plague-spotted
in soul and flesh in the lonely sublim-
lty of this mountain temple-a leDer
condemned and incurable, constrained
to cry out at the approach of every
passer-by, "Unclean! unclean!" 1t
would have been better for her to beg
her bread upon the doorsteps of the
wealthy, and, failing that, to die by the
wayside with starvation and cold, than
to live the life of nominal respectable
ity and abundance, of real degradation
and poverty, which were now hers.
The tears were dried, but she still sat
On the gray carpet, clutching angrily
at it and the wild flowers peeping
through the crevices of the rock, rend-
ing them as passion had torn her; her
bosom heaving with the unspent waves
Of excitement and mutinous pout
upon her lips, when cracking among
the brushwood thrilled her with an un-
comfortable sensation of alarm.
Before she could regain her feet or
concert her scheme of defense or
flight, the nearest cedar boughs were
pushed aside, and a man stepped into
the area fenced in by the hardy noun
tain evergreens. With subsiding fears,
as her quick eye inventoried the vari-
GUS particulars of his neat travelling
suit, gentlemanly bearing, pleasant
countenance and deferential aspect
toward herself, Constance arose, visibly
embarrassed, but dignified, and await
ed his pleasure. The stranger betrayed
neither surprise nor confusion. Walk
ing directly up to her, he removed his
hat, bowling low, with a bright, cordial
smile. "Unless 1 am greatly mistaken
I have the pleasure OF seeing my broth
er's wife. And you are more familiar
with my name and my handwriting
than with my face. am Edward With
ers"
ITO BE coNTINUED.b