New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1915-05-09
PSALM XXXVW.

perately at the place where he judged the body
might be- Then began a fight, life and death
struggle against a relentless, overwhelming
force. Yet somehow he conquered, and found
himself with limp body In his arms wadlng
knee deep in a tract Of mud and slime.
Though slightly built and frail looking, and,
owing to the worry and confinement of his re-
cent life rather of condition, once he regained
his breath he made light of carrying his wife to
the cottage.
He could not tell why he brought her there
rather than to the hotel. He remembered after
ward giving the matter some thought; but he was
either deferred by the sight Of go many people
in the Place-brought thither by the afrightng
news of the murderer by the notion that
further scandal might be ayerted II the unhappy
woman were tended by those whom he and she
could trust None of Mere Pitou's guests knew
that Mrs Carmac had been rescued from the
estuary They thought she had mistaken some
byway and fallen into the Aven quite possible
accident to a stranger on a dark night
So second time Yvonne stripped her mothers
slender form of its water-soaked garments, while
Mere Pitou loudly invoked the aid and commiser-
alton of various saints-but did not forget to fill
hot water bottles and wrap them in flannel before
applying them to the unconscious woman's be-
shook his head mutterng of "shock" and de
ranpement of the nervous system" and In the
midst of all this turmoil and furtive fear Of the
worst consequences arrived Celeste, searching for
her mistress and almost incoherent with her
story of Rupert Fosdyke's fate He had arrived
in the village by the half-past four train that
afternoon, and after long talk with madame had
dned alone She was told that he went out short
ly before midnight and met Peridot and was
straightway beaten to death.
After some hours of horrible uncertainty Mrs.
Carmac recovered sufficiently to speak.
"Where am |? she muttered, staring about
wildly.
AT home, dear, with me-" whispered Yvonne.
The dazed eyes slowly gathered consciousness
of Yvonnes presence. "Who took me out of the
river? she went on
"The man who has loved you all his lfe dear"
said the girl softly She had the fixed belief now
that her mother would surely die and was re-
solved that her last hours should be made happy
by knowledge Of her husbands devotion.
what! John saved me! Was it he who followed
me-"
Eyes, dear. He rsked his life for your sake
and carried you here unaided."
"A good man." came the low murmur 81 was
not worthy of him"
Mother, you are TO try and sleep now. The
doctors orders must be obeyed. Otherwise you
will be very, very ill.,
81 am sick unto death already, dear one But
shall do you bid-to please you-and John
One word! Tell him-tell him-that I am poorer
than when left him. Rupert is here He gloated
over my downfall. He knows everything and
would hear of no terms. No, it is not Raymonds
doing. | asked that. He met some man who knew
us in the old days and who had read the account
OF the wreck. am pauper of sorts, Yvonne
Please ask your father not to turn me out"
Mother" walled the girl in a voice strangled
with grief you must not talk like that You'll
break my heart"
"Ah, tout passe Yvonne, even broken hearts!
You will be far happier in your cottage than ever