Year: 1876

NO. 80.
and the mingled tears and means that
had expressed her pain, there was
now one dull and stolid impulse pre-
vailing over all else, and working it.
self out by slow, laborious and cruel
methods.


The change was hardly that which
takes. place when an insance mania
seiEes the mind. Mary Wilson was
not mad, as science knows madness.
|; In her short season Of unconscious
ness a new and straight soul and a
fearful will seemed to have entered
the vacant brain and heart, leaving
the former occupants to wander
through in6inity with no power over
or claim upon the bodily tenement
that had been stolen from them. Even
more despotlc than the possession of
scriptural narrative, the demon that
had entered into the poor girl left no
sense Of q present deity to be wor-
shipped or to be sought in prayer.
All was dark and blank but the one
dreadful purpose to Which she was
moved with the persistency Of an i'm
placable savage impulse.
! What was the impulse that drove
her away from her lodging, away
from the sound Of the rattling mill,
and cway from the village streets
crowded thrice a day with hastily
passing throng? Could she have
told Could she have accounted for
those wanderings through the frozen



woods; these hours spent crouch,ng
under the bank of the ravine, where
| the rush Of the Black river over its
bpwlders drowned all the sounds of
civilization. and the signing spruces
shut out every sight? She knew only
that she hated the faces of her fellow.
beings. their voices, and their society.
They were nothing to her until she
had done what she must do, and then
what would they be? Thoughtreach-
ed no further, if she mig ght be said to
think.


The same power that had impelled
her as in a dream all day, brought
her, dragged, famishing, and burning
with a heat that had no wholesome
warmth for her pinched body, to the
rendezvous by the canal. There was
a pitchy darkness over all. The
swirl Of the water in the unfrozen
canal alone told what lay beneath
the. narrow path which could now be
traversed only by familiar feet after
passing the guideposts that were felt,
not seen, on the bank. Even the
| thin sn6w found no gleam which it
might reflect to clouds that lowered
above The lights that shon e dim
through the paper curtains Of the
boarding-houses where the operators
were at supper, seemed to stop short
IN the distance and lose themselves.
The mill lowered grim and silent on
he other side.


| Painting, and with strength that
was hardly her own, the girl wrench
ed the plank aside from its insecure
IA astening. Deliberately she balanced
it:upon the edge, testing its equilibri'
um with her foot. 1t wavered under
her weight.


+: With an inarticulate sound ex-
pressing satisfaction, she turned and
walked in the direction from which
one must come to cross to the mill.
She crouched iu the darkness beside
the path, silent as the Indian in am.
bush. One idea alone possessed her
sullen mind-it was that Of two foot
steps and the fate Of two persons.
This accomplished, there was nothing
in the future. Present revenge was
all.


The time was we'll chosen. Down
the path came the sound Of feet and
Of subdued voices. Not even dark.
er shade was visible upon the univer-
sal shadow to mark the advancing
figures. They existed to the senses
only as the noise of crunching snow
and the murmur of softly spoken
words. Thus they came nearer, and
Mary's heart grew harder as the rip
pie Of laughter and the low response
fell on her ears.


They were opposite to her, when
| she heard, as if continuing subject
already spoken Of; the mans voice
saying;


,"No; she's too fighty. I wouldn' I
bother myself about her any more, ii
I were you"


but she isn't tlighty to me, Joe. If
you knew her you'd say so, too. And
/ don't know what's been the matter
with her"


."What difference does it make,
Aggie, She's shiftless, crazy thing,
or she wouldn't have left the mill,
where she was earning good wages,
for nothing but her laziness."


20! Joe! you don't know, or you
wouldn't talk that way. o" and
sobs came through the darkness.