“No, ’tain’t,” said the girl, sadly. “I ain’t the same, I reckon; I reckon I’m right near gone, Mr. Jack. Well, I saved her, anyhow. The most part fell on me; she kicked herself loose. Please, father, ef Mr. Jack don’ come in time—please, father, tell him ez how I saved Bonnibel. Oh, father, I mus’ tell somebody ’fore I go. I kyarn’ bear to think there won’t be anybody in all th’ world ez knows it when I’m gone. I loved him, father dear—I loved him so! An’ I’ve been mighty wicked; an’ God’s been mighty good ter me; an’ I’m goin’ to heaven, mammy says. But I won’t have him even there—I won’t have him—even there.”
The soft voice broke suddenly—stopped. The bright head dropped forward on her breast.
Roden had buried his face in her two pale hands. When he looked up, old Herrick was closing gently with his toil-roughened hand the sweet wide eyes which never more would look on anything this side the stars.
It was at this moment that Bonnibel, repenting, perhaps, of her former coldness, thrust in her little deer-head at the open window, and drew a long sighing breath as of contentment.
The blades of grass dropped from the thin hand now so still upon the stirless bosom were blown along the window-sill by the mare’s warm breath.
THE END.
A BROTHER TO DRAGONS,
AND OTHER OLD-TIME TALES.
By Amélie Rives. Post 8vo, Cloth, Extra, $1 00.