Martinsburg independent. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1875-1900, 1898-07-02

ut is chilly here, and late. / am
going home," she said.
He walked silently at her side out
Of the woods and across the wide
fields of Growers Tract. Never was
a more hopeless lover than Fennel
Gould. At the farmhouse door he
said, "Good night, Bertrode." She
bowed, and he went on over the hill
in the warm gray twilight, cursing
his cruel fate as lovers have cursed
their fate before.
Through succession of hot days
the month went out. Before it had
passed Bertrode was taken sick
miserably i'll of fever. She suffered
wearisomely, but little could be done
for her. 1t was slow fever, which
must burn out its course. She was
thirsty continually, and suddenly,
in the midst of her suffering, the
spring which had supplied her with
cool water grew dry, and oil other
water tasted warm and brackish to
her feyered lips.
"If I only had some ice, motherl"
she moaned.
II know, dear, but there is 60 ice
in less than twenty miles"
Too i'll to express her misery, the
poor. fevered girl fell asleep, to
dream Of the old yellow Grover
Tract stage traing its way over the
heavy sandy roads to Northboro',
the only place where there was an
icehouse-there to procure for her
a great green block of the refreshing
ice she coveted.
at will be 80 nice," she murmured
in her sleep. "My throat is parched,
and it will cool my drink 50 delic-
iouslyl'
A cricket sang In the heated wall
and woke her. She heard the stage
trundling over the hill.
"Has it come, mother" she asked.
"What, dear? You are dreaming.
Wake up, and drink some of this
nice iced lemonade"
"Ice, mother! Where did you get
it5"
Fennel has been to Northboro' for
it. He's very kind to you, BERTHE,
DEAR
'It's refreshing. How long have
| been asleep, mother?"
"All the afternoon, and I really
think you look better, BERTHE"
Bertrode turned on her pillow and
fell asleep again. In the morning
she was better, but not well. The
pale lips were still parched-the
mouth, so long fevered, tasteless.
She relished only the drinks, iced
and cold, which her mother prepared
"How is it that that ice lasts sop
"Why, Fennel goes to Northboro'
for fresh piece every other day.
The weather is so warm that it melts
very fast"
"But it's haying time. How can
he be spared!'
"He goes at night after eight
O'Clock. don't see how he can do
it when he works in the field until be
is ready to drop"
"Then why do you ask him,
mother?'
Goodness, child! / never asked
him; / guess / didn't It's his own
service. / never dreamed of asking
him."
Bertrode, bolstered up in bed, sat
silent awhile.
"Fenncps very kind she said at
last; "but / don't like to be sick and
tax people SO. Mother, if I am bet.
ter tomorrow, can't ride out?n
Perhaps So"
Tomorrow Bertrode was feverish
again. Nothing passed her parched
lips but yellow peach, rarcrlpe
that was wonder to the neighbor.
hood.
4Wheee did it come from
mother?'
"Fennel br ought it,
The next morning, when she
awoke, a gust OF spicy coolns $:
Whitfield into her face.
"What is that?" she cried, start
ing up.
just pitcher OF sprays from the
scrub-oaks Of the lowlands, theil
tender pendant acorns swinging
among the glossy leaves-branchel
OF bayberry, sweet-fern, and hand
full of cheekcrberry, mixed will
sweet swamp heliotrepe and wilt
asters, all dripping with morning
dew.
"Oh, mother, bring it closer
Where did pou get liz" placing be
thin, white hands among the cool
sweet foliage.
"Fennel left it at the door thi
morning. He thought it woul'
please you.'
ut does please me-
Fo one but Fennel krew how sh