A pathway ran here at the edge of the river, and the girl stepped
upon it to find the swollen current suddenly up to her knees. Bewildered
she turned, slipped, turned again, and then, under the impression that she
faced toward the meadow-bank, put up her hands to grapple safety, set her
foot forward and, in a moment, was drowning. Distant not half a mile,
laboring like giants to save a thing far less precious than this life,
toiled Uncle Thomas and his men. Had silence prevailed among them the
single cry which echoed up the valley might well have reached their ears;
but all were laboring amain, and Joan was at that moment the last thought
in the minds of any among them.
So she died; for the gathering waters soon beat out her life and silenced
her feeble struggle to save it. A short agony ended the nine months of
experience through which Joan's life has been followed; her fires were
quenched, and that most roughly; her fears, hopes, sorrows, joys were all
swept away; and Nature stood defeated by herself, to see a young life
strangled on the threshold of motherhood, and an infant being drowned so
near to birth that its small heart had already begun to beat.
Two men, tramping through the desolation of the ruined valley at Uncle
Chirgwin's command, discovered Joan's body. The elder was Amos Bartlett,
and he fell back a step at the spectacle with a sorrowful oath on his lip;
the younger searcher turned white and showed fear.
Pages:
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405