Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1900-04-05

among which she sank held her fair body
in their cold, clammy embrace, so that
she never rose again. 1t was long be-
fore they found her.
And, oh, who shall ever describe that
dreadful scene by the margin Of Shade
make Bath, while the terrified crowd that
had gathered there quickly waited for
her whom all knew to be hopelessly gone
from them forever!
The sobbing, frightened women; the
white, stricken faces of the men; the ag-
ony of those who had loved her; the dis
tress and dismay of those who had only
admired her; and there was one trem-
bling, shuddering wretch, in her satin
and her Jewels, standing white and bag
gard apart, with knees that shook to-
gether, and teeth that chartered, and tear
less sobs that shook her from head to
foot, staring with half-maddened stare
upon the fatal waters.
Then, when all was at an end and the
worst was known, when the poor drip
ping body had been reverently covered
over and borne away by loving arms amid
a torrent Of sobs and wailing tears to-
ward the house, then someone came near
her and spoke to 1her-someone of whom
the water came pouring in streams, and
whose face was white and wild as her
own.
Get you away out of my sight" said
the man whom she had loved so fruit
lessly to her.
Have pity! have PITY was the cry of
despair that burst from her qulverlng
lips. WAS it not all an accidenty'
"Yet, let it be so to the world, because
you bear my name, and | will not have
it dragged through the mire-to all 9TH
ers it is an accident-but never to me,
for I saw you let her go! There is tht
stain of murder upon your hands. l will
never call you wife, nor look upon your
face again; get yourself away out of my
sightv
With low, sobbing cry she turned and
fed away from him, and away from the
place, out among the shadows of the FIR
trees. Once again someone stopped her.
in her terror-stricken fight.
1t was Denis Wilde, who came strid-
ing toward her under the trees, and
caught her roughly by the wrist.
ut is you who have killed herr he
said, savagely.
what do you mean?'' she murmured.
family.
Il saw it in your face last night when
you were wandering about the house dur
ing the thunderstorm; you meant her
death then; / saw it in your eyes. Why
did not watch over her better, and save
her from such devil as you?"
''No, no, it is not true; it was an acct
dent. Oh, spare me, spare me-" with
piteousness Of terror, was all she could
say.
Yes; I will spare you, poor wretch,
for your husbands sake-because she low
ed him-and his burden, heaven help
him! is heavy enough as it is. Cop
finging her arm rudely from him. 60,
while you have got time, lest the thirst
for your blood be too strong for me-"
And this time no one saw her go. Like
hunted animal, she fed away among
the trees, her cleaning many-hued dress
trailing all wet and drabbled on the sod
den earth behind her, and the darkness
of the gathering night closed in around
her, and covered her in mercy with its
pitiful mantle.
In South Kensington there lives gay,
world-loving woman who keeps open
house, and entertains perpetually. She
has horses and carriages, and box at
Tic OpCId, dAu 10 dlU ~ NC oCC1 AooAb-
lessly dressed and the gayest Of the gay
at every race meeting, and at every scene
of pleasure.
But there are things Mrs. Kynaston
can never do; to read of some dreadful
murder such as occasionally fills all the
papers for days with it's sickening details
makes her shut herself in her own room
till the horrible tragedy is over and for
oh <Is Of
in society causes her to faint away with
terror. To walk by pond, or even to
speak of being rowed upon a lake or
river, fills her heart with such horror of
soul that none Of her friends ever care
to suggest water party Of any kind to
her.
"She saw that poor Miss Neyill drown
ed say her compassionate acquaint-
ances; sit has upset her nerves, poor
dear; she cannot bear the sight of wat
err" And there are a few who think
and who are ashamed to whisper their
thoughts with bated breath, that she saw
Miss Neyills sad death too near and too
we'll to be utterly spotless in the matter.
As to Denis Wilde, he was young, and
in time he got over it and married an ami
able young lady, and he forgot his first
love.
Shadonake Bath has been drained. Mr..
Miller has at last been allowed to have
his own way about it. 1t is an ill wind
that blows nobody any good, and there
could be found no voice to plead for it's
preservation after that terrible tragedy of
which it was the scene.
So the old steps have all been cleared
away, and brick walls line the straight
deep sides, whereon grow the finest
peaches and nectarines in the county,
while a parterre of British queens and
hautboys cover the spot where Vera died
with their rich red fruit and their luxu-
RANT foliage.
And at Sutton things go on much the
same as of old. Old Mrs. Daintree is
dead. The vicar has grown gray and
old; his back is more bent and his face
more careworn than it used to be- He
has never been quite the same since
Vera's death.
There is a white marble monument in
the middle of the chancel raised by the