The Calhoun chronicle. [volume] (Grantsville, W. Va.) 1883-1984, 1898-04-05
HONE YNfOON.


rubs me up the wrong way. somehow.
She says: Il presume you are having
perfect time; now tell me what is
the crumpled roseleaf in all this hap
piness?-for there must he oner And
L thought for moment, if ever one
should come, if it could go on like
this always without changing. 1t seems
too good to be true" she added in a
low tone; ''but there is absolutely not
even crumpled roseleaf so far. -
NO, dear" he said quietly, bend
ing down and kissing her hands;
there is no serpent in our Edenr
1t was only afterwards he remem-
bered the bitter irony of Fate that
prompted those words, and they were
soon absorbed again in their letters
and themselves. The men we're down
stairs in the cabin, and no one noticed
the tiny black adder which had crept
from the basket of flowers, and now
lay summing himself on the deck just
behind Molly's chair. The warmth
of the sun made him quite lively, and
he began creeping about, and grad
ually disappeared under tho chair.
Suddenly she sat up with sharp
cry OH Harry, something has hurt
my foot, she said and, looking down,
there lay across her instep the little
snake, its head firmly fixed into the
silk stocking. With a muffled excla-
nation of horror Harry tore it off, and
flung it into the sea- the pretty white
foot lay bare, and seen through the
rent in the stocking were three tiny
red punctures. Mr.. Ashley rushed
down the cabin steps in mad hurry:
Williams, Williams" he called: ''you
must go on shore at once, Mt once
do your hear? Mrs Ashley has been
stung by snake, go and bring doc
tor rs quickly as ever you can" Com
ing back he took up the huge basket
of flowers, and pitched them over
board; then, taking poor Molly in his
arms, he carried her to her cabin,
where her maid bathed her poor little
foot. 1t was swelling already, but
there was no pain.
"I'll sit on the deck until the doe
tor comes, Harry" she laughed.
PLEASE don't worry, don't believe it
was anything but common adder"
But when the boat brought the doc
tor, in about an hour, he looked very
grave.
Il cannot say anything for some
time yet he said, after examining
the sting. II don't like the entire
absence of pain. Can you not de-
scribe to me what the snake or adder
looked like?"
But poor Harry had flung it away
without looking. and was in such a
state that he could absolutely relnem
Der nothing. Gradually poor Molly
got worse, the swelling increased, and
terrible numbness, which crept
slowly right over the body, set in.
The doctor stayed on, but more for
the sake of Mr.. Ashley, who was be
side himself with grief than for Molly.
who lay quite still and quiet in kind
of stupor from which nothing could
rouse her. About six in the evening
she awoke, and family asked for her
husband.
Dear love, she said, putting her
arms around his neck, 'try not to take
it too hardly if = but Harry left
her aud rushed on deck.
Good God, Wilson," he cried, to
the doctor, cant you do anything?
Let's have someone else. let's-z'
his eye fell on the native who had
brought over the flowers in the morn
ing, standing talking to Williams, and
III his frenzy, no turned on him.
You sconndrel," he said, going up
to him, Edo you know your careless
ness has killed my wife? IF she dies.
III have you thrown into the seat
Al
Williams, who had been his master
since he was n boy, "don't hurt the
man; he's r native, and these natives
arc sometimes very clever with medi-
cines, perhaps he can do something
for my mistressl"
God bless you for thinking Of it.
Williams, he said in q broken voice:
you tell him, you can understand his
largon, and he went down again TO
Molly.
Williams explained as we'll rs he
could what had happened, aud the
man with q glimmer of understanding,
thought he could sec what kind of
snake it was from the wound il had
inflicted. lilo was accordingly shown
INTO Mrs. Ashley o cabin, aud after
'"'hi"B az tue puucJUfcS, at once hUr-
red away, saying he would bring some
thing, but he was afraid, no confdcd
TO williams, that it was too late.
Most Of ne can call TO memory some
time IN our lives, some special hour
when every moment seems n year. md
though q suppressed excitement fills
us, yet we seem unnaturallv quiet.
waiting waiting we know not
whether for life or death. for hnppi
ness or misery 30 fall TO orr lot
If Harry Ashley had been asked
which was the supreme hour OF his
life he would without hesitation have
said this one-when he sat beside his
wife's bed in dumb agony awaiting
the return Of the man, wondering If
he WOULD be in time, for poor Molly
seemed to be losing strength with