Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1904-12-06

x4Y WITH my nina as meaus
whereby to pull my recollections back
to my former cOgnizance Of matters
was broad shaft Of sunlight stream
ing in through the west window Of the
prison in Jamestown. And all this sun
beam was horribly barred like the
body Of a wasp by the iron grating at
the window, and had fierce sting OF
heat in it, for it was warm, though only
May, and l was in high fever by
reason of my wounds.
For some little time l did not think
Of Mary Cavendish. so hedged about
was l as to my freedom Of thought and
love by my physical ills, for verify after
man has been out Of consciousness
with wound it is his body which first
struggles back to existence, and his
heart and soul have to follow us they
may.
So I lay there knowing naught ex
cept the weary pain Of my wounds
and that sense Of stiffness which for
bade me to move, and the fretful heat
of that fierce west sunbeam ANA Il
buzzing swarm Of flies, for some little
time before the memory Of 1t all came
to me.
Then indeed, though with great pain
I raised myself upon my elbow and
peered about my cell and called aloud
for some one to come, thinking some
one must be within hearing, for the
sounds Of life were all about me-the
tramp Of horses on the roadside, the
even fall Of workman's hammer, the
sweet husky carol of slaves song
and the laughter Of children ut play.
So shouted and waited, and shouted
again, and no one came. There was II
my cell not much besides my pallet, ex
cept q little stand which looked like
one from Drake Hill, and Oh the stand
was a china dish like one which | haG
often seen ut Drake Hill, with some
mess therein-what | knew not-and q
bottle of wine and some medicine vials
and glasses. | was not ironed, and
indeed, there was no need OF that
since l could not have moved.
Between the wound in my leg ant
various sword cuts and general sore
ness and stiffness rs II 1 had beer
tumbled over precipice. | was wei
nigh as helpless as week old babe.
l called again, but no one came, and
presently quit and lay with the burn
ing eye Of the sun In my face and thai
pestilent buzz Of flies in my ears. and
my weakness and pain so increasing
upon my consciousness that ! Needed
them not so much. shut my eyes
and that torrid sunbeam burned rec
through my lids, and l wondered II
they had found out aught concerning
Mary Cavendish, and l wondered moi
so much what they would do with me
since l was so weak and spent Will
loss of blood that nothing that had t.
do with me seemed of much moment.
But as lay there presently heard
the key turned in the lock, and ont
Joseph Wedge, the jailer, entered. ant
| saw the lutter Of wOman's draper
les behind him, but he shut the doOl
upon her, and then, without my evel
knowing how he came there, was th'
surgeon, Martyr Jennings. and he wa:
over me looking to my wounds anf
letting q little more blood to decrease
INV fever, though I had already lost 81
much. and then, since was so nea
swooning, giving me glass OF tit
Burgundy on the stand. And whit
that was clouding my brain, since IN!
stomach was fasting and had lost 81
much blood, entered that woman whom
| had espied, and she was not Mary
but Catherine Cavendish, and ther'
was a gentleman with her who stoot
aloof. with his back toward me, gazin'
out of the window, and Of that l wa
glad. since he screened that flaming
sunbeam from me, and l concerne'
myself no more about him.
But at Catherine / gazed and mo
TONED to her to bend over me. ant
whispered. that the jailer might no
hear. what had become Of Mary. Thel
saw the jailer had gone out. thougl
I had not seen him 90, and she, max
Ing sign to me that the gentleman a
the window was not to be minded
went on to tell me what ! thirsted
know-that she and Mary and 81
Humphrey had escaped that night wit
ease. and she and Mary had returne
10 Drake Hill before midnight and ha
not been mOlested.
II Mary were suspected she kne'
not, but Sir Humphrey was then unde
arrest and was confined on board
shin I'm the harbor with Major Bevei
ly. and his mother was daily sendin
billets to him to return home an
blaming him, and not his jailers. 70
his disobedience. She told me, fu'
thermore, that 1t was Cicely Hyde wh
had led the militia to our assembly q
Laurel Creek that night and was no'
in a low fever through remorse. ant
though she told me not, afterwar
knew why that mad maid had don
such q thing-'twas because OF jea
ousy of me and Mary Cavendish, an