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My Pretty Maid; or, Liane Lester
My Pretty Maid / or, Liane Lester
CHAPTER I.
A DESPERATE CHANCE
"How fast the river flows! How it roars in my ears and drowns the sound of your voice, my dearest! It is bearing me away! Oh, save me! save me!"
The river was the stream of Death, and the lone voyager floating out on its rushing tide was a loved and loving young wife.
The frail white hands clung fondly to her husband's as she rested with her head upon his breast, and the faint voice murmured deliriously on:
"How it rushes on—the wild river! How it rocks me on its broad breast! It is not so noisy now; it is deeper and swifter, and its voice has a lulling tone that soothes me to sleep. Hold me tight—keep me awake, dear, lest it sweep me away to the sea!"
Ah, he would have given the world to hold her back, his darling, the dearest of his heart, but the rushing torrent was too strong. It was sweeping her away.
Several days ago a beautiful daughter—her first-born after five years' wifehood—had been laid in her yearning arms.
But, alas! the first night of its birth, during a temporary absence of the old nurse from the room, the little treasure had been stolen from its mother.
Panic seized the whole household, and rigorous search was at once begun and kept up for days, but all to no avail.
The father was frantic, but, though he would have given his fortune for the return of the child, he was powerless; and now, as a sequel to this tragedy of loss and pain, his dear young wife lay dying in his arms—dying of heartbreak for the lost babe—poor bereaved young mother!
Tears rained from his eyes down on her pallid face as he strained her to his breast, his precious one, going away from him so fast to death, while outside, heedless of his despair, the golden sun was shining on the green grass, and the fragrant flowers, and the little birds singing in the trees as if there were nothing but joy in the world.