The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1898-03-02
THE FATAL HOUR.


across the valley, yelled with a thin, float
ing mist, and then shambled toward the
wood shed, his old carpet slippers dragging
at the heels as he went There was look
of anxiety and apprehension on the old
rnan's face, and he sighed as he stopped to
fill his arms with the freshly split sticks.
II hope to goodness she's f'got it, he
muttered as he glanced furtively toward
the house. "Yet Maria amt the kind to
f'get, specially thing like that. Eff she
dreams thing three times runnin, she'll
remember it till doomsday.' So saying,
he Strengthened laboriously up and carried
his armful Of wood into the house
breakfasts most ready, Maria" said
the old man at length softly. 81 thought
I'd git it, seein as you didn't seem to feel
like gittin up.
The woman turned pale, set face to-
ward her husband.
Jonathan Martin, she said in col
emn, hollow voice, ''be you so heartless
that you can't remember the day of your
wife's death? Don't talk to me about
breakfast or any other worldly thing. I
must prepare for the hour of my depar-
ture, and it's rapidly DRAWN nigh
She turned her face to the wall again,
and her husband tiptoed disconsolately
back to the kitchen.
81 knowed it, knowed it, - he groaned.
"Maria never fights a sign. This is the
day for that tarnal dream to come true,
and she's expectin it. ."
The Martins house was in a lonely spot
some distance from the nearest neighbor
and six miles from the nearest town of
any size To this town Jonathan had de-
termined to drive that morning and secure
the services of doctor The poor man
himself was at his wits end. He had
learned by long experience how useless it
was to argue with his wife on the subject
of signs and omens, in which she was a
most devou5 believer
Not even the sound of rapidly departing
wheels reused the old woman from her
half lethargic condition. Her mind was
fixed on the approach of the fatal hour
foretold in her dream, and she had no
more doubt that she should die at the ex-
act moment than that the sun would set
that evening after her eyes had been closed
forever to its kindly light. She lay mo-
tionless, except when at long intervals she
turned her head to gaze upon the hands of
the faithful old clock. Then she would
drop back upon the pillow and closing her
eyes resign her whole being to a kind of
ecstasy of waiting.
One O'Clock, ? O'Clock, passed. At the
spirit of Maria Martin was to take its
flight, according to the omen. Already
the old woman could detect death creep
ing 1clly IN ler veins ana Do0um ping noE
limbs. She felt the hand of fate fraying
the silver cord. In two hours it would be
only a straining thread, and suddenly it
would break. The world would vanish
with a roaring sound, and would sink,
sink
But bark! Wheels crunch through the
gravel st the gate and the soft thud of
horse hoofs is heard the turf.
Jonathan left his horse unhitched and
came helplessly and hopeIessIy into the
house. The doctor at Gilmore had gone to
attend a dangerous case and was not ex-
pected home until the next day There
was No other doctor who could be reached
in time. With science unavailable to fight
superstition, what could be done for the
fanatical old woman? Jonathan's heart
was like lead, for full well he knew that
no man is with .ut authority save in his
own household.
He noiselessly changed his boots for the
carpet slippers and stole into the chamber
where his wife lay. The stupor of ap-
preaching dissolution seemed to be upon
her. She neither spoke to him nor seemed
conscious of his presence.
The old man sat down at the foot of the
bed and waited. a strange paralysis
seemed to be creeping over him too.
At a quarter to Mrs. Martin turned
feebly upon her pillow, looked at the clock
with half open, dimIning eyes, and sank
face became drawn and ashen pale. JON
athan spoke to her, but she answered not,
nor stirred an eyelid. The silver cord was
almost frayed through.
Then the old man slowly and softly
picked up his chair and crept toward the
clock. His slippered feet made no sound
on the carpet, and his every nerve was
alert with caution. He gently opened the
door of the clock case, mounted the chair,
slid his hand up to the bell on the top OF
the wooden works and removed is.
One swift, apprehensive look over his
shoulder and the old man seized the min
ute hand and whirled it suddenly around
till it passed the hour mark and stopped
at full five minutes beyond. Then he
stepped down off his chair as softly as he
had stepped upon it, closed the clock case,
slipped the bell into his coat pocket and
once more resumed his seat at the foot of
the bed.
The old clock licked on. The minutes
glided away. Still the gray haired woman
on the bed drew the breath of life, but her
face was growing more and more pinched
and ashen. Tt would not do to postpone
the crisis too long.
''Maria!'' The old mans voice was
sharp, strong, imperative, and a culver
swept across the eyelids of the half con-
scious woman.
maria! The hour has passedl''
Inc olu woman started up with con-
vulsive movement and looked wildly at
the clock. For go years the old heirloom
had stood to her for the very gospel of re-
liability, the regulator of the planets. She
would sooner have disbelieved the testi-
mony of the sun than that of her mothers
heirloom. And yet to her staring eyes the
venerable dial proclaimed 10 minutes past
4, and the omen had not been fulfilled.
The blood slowly stole back into the
blanched and withered cheeks. The numb
ness melted out of her limbs like April
frost. She thrust her feet out of bed and
sat bolt upright Then with deep, won