Middletown transcript., 1903-05-09

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scended a second time to the
street. From the shadow of an
opposite dwelling a figure step
ped forth, and followed in her
footsteps as she hastened away;
but she did not see it.
The harvest moon was rising
in the sky, and the light fell in
ghastly streaks along the pave
ment at her feet. She turned
into Cambridge street, and ap-
preached the long bridge stretch
ing across the river. She had
once lived in this vicinity with
her luckless father, before he left
her, to mend his ruined fortunes
in the gold country of the far
west.
Back on her heart rushed the
memory of that time; her incon-
solable grief at parting; the utter
anguish which overwhelmed her
at news of his murder. With a
shiver, Agnes March drew her
shawl closer about her, and hast
ened on.
The long bridge stretched far
into the distance before her. She
stepped upon it without pallor or
shrinking-without single back
ward look. The river rolled
black as ink below. Near by
some schooners lay at the tran
quill wharves; their masts glim-
mered family in the wan, ghostly
moonlight.
She walked straight on to the
draw, and there stopped. Cling
ing with one hand to the railing,
she gazed down into the turbid
current creeping sluggishly be-
low. Her face was rigid and
white with deadly determination.
She let her heavy shawl slip like
a black cloud from her shoulders
down to the planks of the bridge.
Good-by. she said to the pleas
ant home lights twinkling every
where along the river.
At the same moment a step
sounded on the draw, and a hand
seized her arm in a strong, i'm
perative grasp. She was drawn
away from the railing.
Miss March! said a voice.
She turned and looked up into
the pale face of the most famous
surgeon in the city-Doctor Eric
Brandt.
Come away from this place! he
said, sternly. What! I thought
I saw in your face the soul of a
hero. Come instantly! tits only
the coward who fears to live.
A red-hot shame leaped into
her face, and bowed it forward on
her breast. She stood dumb and
motionless before him.
Take my arm, and let me con-
duct you home, said Doctor
Brandt.
His cold, authoritative tone
seemed to sting her into lifeagain.
Why do you interfere with me?
she cried, regarding in angry
amaze the tall figure, and the
pale, fiery-eyed face. am tired
of living-let me die!
| interfere with you by the
right which any physician has
over a patient, he answered. In
the sober daylight of tomorrow
you will thank me. Now, come
with me. We shall be noticed if
we stand here longer; some guar
dian of the night will be turning !
this way directly,
Let me die! she cried again.
He took her shawl from the
draw, and wrapped it carefully |
about her. His stong, magnetic |
touch thrilled through her, !
You do not know what you say. |
You are ill. Your hands are like i
fire, he answered, something al
most like tenderness softening
his voice.
And still she moaned:
My life is not worth saving. l !
tell you I am tired of it. What
brought you here tonight to
thwart me?
My good angel, l think. Come!
For once Miss March felt over
matched. Silently, irresistibly,
he drew her away, past the black
shadow of the jail, pasttheswarm-
ing tenement houses, straight
homeward toward the street
whose name she had given him a
few hours before. She yielded
to his dominion readily enough.
Her head was in o whirl. The !
dwellings, on either side danced
in the moonlight before her eyes. !
Tho Sound of his firm stem min !