The Green Forest tribune., 1909-11-19

voice of my husband, muttering: If the horses can hold out, if nothing breaks, we may pull through; we may be saved. God, we must arrive in time!'
 With never a glance behind, he leaned forward and struck the horses blow after blow. Ten minutes crawled away-our pursuers seemed a trifie farther behind and flutter of hope stirred my frozen soul. I held the sleeping child firmly in my arms and counted the seconds aloud, 50 by 60
 Hope left me. My mind was a con- fused blur as one wolf after another bounded forward to within a few yards of us. Pictures of such scenes with their horrible ending, of which I had heard and read, crowded upon my memory. Should we cut one of the horses loose to delay the catastrophe? But before this could be done, we would all be lost If only Barry, our faithful dog, were with us in the sleigh!
 T remembered hearing in my child AAocA life by throwing to the wolves young calf he had bought at market that morning.
 If I myself were to spring out?
 "Then-oh, the horror of 1t all Doc tor, you perhaps, as physician, can | understand the monstrous inhuman thoughts that take shape in a fevered. di dictr ot ad oip ha of,i1d should T.? At the hideous fancy l burst into loud hysterical weeping, my | lips bled with the print of my teeth, l l struggled with myself as if with dev- 1 ilish foe. But, ah, he!"-the suffering creature here broke down in a flood of hysterical tears-"the hateful thought came again and again; whirled wildly in my poor, distracted brain; pos sessed me, tortured me, maddened ms with fierce persistence.
 T screamed aloud to rid myself of the thought-screamed till the horses took new fright and sprang even fast er-but the black thought held grim hold. The wolves were almost upon the sleigh-close, close behind me. The compulsion to commit the awful deed gripped and mastered me with un- | speakable misery.
 The road led into a wood. My hus- band gave never a glance behind-he only grimly held himself together and dashed, lashed, lashed at the strain the woods; the wolves howled inces- sanity now. One, breathless and pant 1 ing, vaulted in long, agile bounds close beside us.
 Then with trembling hands I drew my child, my sleeping baby, closer, pressing her to my breast till she awoke and began to cry. I stilled her wailing. which pierced me to the heart, with a torrent of kisses and wild, foolish baby chatter I shud- dered in every limb; a torturing un- rest overwhelmed me; longing to strike myself-anything to end this terrible, uncomfortable tension of mind A strange electric fluid seemed to surge through Ihy arm. Then shall never know the truth-did my grasp suddenly weaken? God is my witness. | I am innocent. I have no more rec | ollection of myself or my action. Then | suddenly the bowling of the wolves drowned all else-the child lay on the snow behind the sleigh" The young hands, her frail body shaken with the violence of her sobs.
 After short pause she continued in changed, dry, expressionless voice, speaking in sharp detached sen l tences:
 AS we emerged from the wood regained consciousness; the wolves were out of sight and hearing; red lights gleamed forth; bell sound ed. We had reached the station. My husband lifted me gently from the sleigh and laid me on bench. People busied themselves over me with re- storatives and much kindly oommis- ming with tears, but he uttered not one word, except sometimes to mur- mur my name. They lifted me into the train. For many weeks in Vienna I lowered between life and death. My husband never left my bedside. Very slowly I wore on to partial re. | covery.
 We travelled over sea and land, searching for the spot that would ben eft me, but it has all been in vain nothing helps me.
 "Of that horrible night we have never spoken one word. My husband is unspeakably good to me, more ten derly solicitous than ever before, but this awful specter is always between us. can never look in my dear ones eyes. dread always the question turk | ing in them-the unbearable, search ing, haunting question: Did you with | intention do that awful deed?'"