Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About The west shore. (Portland, Or.) 1875-1891 | View Entire Issue (June 1, 1889)
THE WEST SHORE. .125 day for one day; bat what a day it bad been! I picked Borne white flowers and placed them in her dead hands, and the sad procession started. It was Georgia's mother who met us at the door of the little inn, where we had been so happy, and where we now laid the body gently down. She seemed to have a right to fold those beautiful hands to their rest the hands which had saved her boy. I moved as in a dream, bat my one overmastering feel ing was that the lady's work mast be done. I asked directions for the road, took up the box, and, refusing all offers of company, set off on my way. It was getting late in the evening now, bat my sole longing was for night and loneliness. I seemed to feel no fatigue, and was so engrossed with my er rand that the shock of what had happened seomed hardly to find place in my brain. I tried not to think of how we had gone up the hill together; I tried to forget where we had tamed to look at the view and she had said: "This mast be the last, the very last, the night will overtake as." And the night had over taken her nay, rather, the eternal day had found her. There was a strange calm upon me. The shadows were deepening, but I hardly noticed them, for my road was at present straight and direct, till a wild rash of wind whistling around the crags told me that a storm was near and thunder shook the hills a mo ment later. Then flash after flash of lightning lit op the mountains, and the rain fell heavily. I was so afraid that the box and its contents might snfTor, that for a few minutes I remained in the shelter of a rock. It was where two roads met, and I was in doubt which to take, when a brilliant flash of lightning sud donly showed me the figure of a wayfarer taking the road to the right It was a woman. "What an even ing for her to be out," I said to myself; and then I called out loudly to her, but she took no notice. " I will follow her," I said, "if she can face the storm I can." I had taken off a light waterproof ooat I wore and fastened op the box In it, so that it could not be in j'ared by the rain, and then I followed the solitary woman. Quickly as I walked, I was unable to over take her, but I persevered in the road she had taken, till I came to the river which the lady had told me I must cross. To my dismay, as I reached it, I saw the ruins of a small foot bridge being washed helplewly away down the stream. The river was much swollen by recent storms and seemed far too deep and rapid for fording at this place. It was all strange to me. How was I to cross it? The evening ligbrwas ut fading, What was I to do? To my great utoobb. ment, the soliUry woman, I had seen paused the edge of the stream,' then swiftly turning to Us left, walked along a narrow path among the reeds and rushes by the side of the river. I followed, feeling sure she must have some knowledge of the locality and that she was perhaps acquainted with some other crossing place. The woman sped on over the narrow path beside the swollen stream. At last she paused and I was able to come up to her. " Can you toll me?" I began, and then an Inde finable awe swept over me and I began to tremble. When I attempted to speak again my tongue refused to move, for the shadowy figure turned its face toward me, and it was the face of the lady who was dead. She pointed across the stream, and I noticed that there were large stepping stones which she seemed to bid me croos, but she then paasod on swiftly amongit the reeds by the river side into the twilight gtoom. I watched her form till it fadtvl away, then croaied the stream and wont op the road on the other side as directed. About two miles farther on 1 came in sight of the turrets of Tredegar Hall. It stood on a hill, and there was a broad stone terrace In front on which the windows opened, and a lawn planted with trees and shrubs sloped down to the road on which I was walking. I saw a pleasant path loading across the lawn and at once turned into it To my consternation, however, I found that In stead of leading either to the front or back of the bouse it came out on the terrace exactly under the large windows, which were open. The lights were burning inside. Two gentlemen were sitting by one of the windows smoking. As I drew near I was con cealod by the shadow, and their voices, raised In dia pute, came clearly to me through the still, evening air M You see, the promised proofs of your innocence have not come to hand; I must stick to my word and rrfaae consent till they do," said the rider man. I can not understand It," rejoined the younger. " Your elder daughter promised they should be hers by this time. She loved her sister Margaret and knew her happiness was bound np In mine." M Hat yoa will see I can not permit an engage, ment with my daughter while a shad of suiplclon rests on your character." M I quite see, and were it not for the certainty of tbe proofs I should despair. Hark I Did yoa not hear a step?" M I can't say that I did; but she will Dot come bow. No, Hector, my boy, Uks my advle. forget this cWld of mine, go out to India and live It down." Hector shook Lis bead sadly as ha tamed his face to the window. Bodily his face light! op with glow of bop " Sir, there Is your elder daughter crowing the terrace. I can see her. dlatlnctly. Look, she Las