Camas Prairie chronicle. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1901-1917, 1905-04-07

/ 6NNSA Hpu4 LuC udEkg Sluggish WALeESs
began to picture in my mind the
hnding Of my body the next morning
how It would be dragged out Of the
water by hooks; how they would search
It for papers, or other means OF identifi-
cation. The tears were streaming down
my face, and, unconsciously, was sob
bling aloud. Suddenly was startled by
light touch upon my shoulder, and
soft, wonlan's voice sounding in my ears.
What is the matter-are you ill?" 1t
said.
turned round and half rose from my
PROSTATE position. The sun had set, and
gray shadows were yelling the daylight.
the thick, heavy trees darkening 1t yet
more where lay. My eyes were blur
red with tears, and / could not see dis
tinctly; but / was sensible that a wom-
an dressed in black was kneeling behind
me. She started back, hak fearfully,
as moved; but something in my face
seemed to reassure her, for the next mo-
ment she again advanced. brushed
away my tears, rose to my feet and look
ed at her.
She seemed about twenty; her figure
very slight; a sweet, pale, melancholy
face; and light, golden hair, that fell in
natural ringlets down upon her shout
ders. While l looked, a thrill ran
through me. Was dreaming ?-had my
troubles affected my brain? No, it was
she! My eager looks again frightened
her.
II heard you sobbing, and l thought
YOU were ILL.," she said, timidly. "Is
there anything cen do for you? II
not, pray pardon my intrusion
She drew further away from me as
she spoke No; could doubt no more.
That soft, musical voice, that had haunt
ed me in my sleep-whose tones had new
er ceased reverberating in my soul, from
the hour in which had first heard them
was still the same, although the face
and form had grown older.
do you not remember me?'' l cried,
in trembling, eager voice.
She thought / was mad, and look of
fear crept over her, but ITO sign OF rec
ognition.
do Won not remember Bury st. Ed
mund's-the night / met you under the
old gateway-fye years next month ~
At the mention Of Bury St. Edmunds
could see her face culver. She paused
for moment after / had finished speak
ing; then she came close to me and look
ed steadfastly into my face.
Yes; it is the same" she said, in a
low voice. How strange that we should
meet again! have often thought of
you"
II have never ceased thinking Of your'
answered. And / could not help my
tone being a passionate one.
She did not appear to remark my
manner, but seemed half lost in reverie.
We were now walking away from that
dismal spot; the keepers were clearing
the park.
do you know" she said, speaking
suddenly, that / thought you were go
ing to throw yourself into the canal, and
that was why / spoke to you? Your
eyes were fixed with such a strange look
upon the water, and you were moaning
SO sadly"
| shuddered. Already, the thought of
my meditated crime terrified me. The
despair was lifted off my heart in the
last few moments, and life seemed worth
preserving, after all.
She seemed to read my guilt in my
"But for you. should now be lying
at the bottom of that canalp' / answer
ed, in low tone, and my tears fell fast
They relieved my sudden revulsion of
feeling.
"And / have saved you from such
wicked deed! 1t makes me so happy to
think sol" she murmured. But why did
you wish to drown yourself?" she asked.
Because my life was so wretched SO
observation-disclosures l have no friends,
no employment, no HOPPER / answered,
mournfully.
i have no friends" she answered, in
a sad voice; "but l have never wished
to destroy myself; it would be so wick |
ed"
"Oh, l win never think of it againp'
said, eagerly.
"But if you have no friends and no
employment, you must want money. / |
can spare it; indeed can. give away
a good deal. 1t win please me so much |
il you take it."
This was said in such a simple plead |
ing tone, SO unconscious of offense, that |
it could not have mortified the most SEN
sitive delicacy. But l could not accept.
please not to ask me; cannot take |
il" said.
We walked on until we came to a
street Of small, pretty houses.
Il live there she said, pointing to |
one which appeared to have been re-
Gently built. II am late tonight; Mrs.
Wilson viii wonder where am"
is she your sister2" asked, haz-
arding a guess.
"Oh, no-my landlady. As I told you,
l have no friends"
How very remarkable the coincidence
has beenw / said, after an awkward |
pause. DO you remember when first |
we metT'
you must not talk Of that, please"
she interrupted, hastily, with a shud-
der; NOR set me thinking Of that time, |
OF I shall see them all night in my sleep.
But / must wish you good night
And shall not see you again2'' 1 |
said, mournfully.
-. N