She endeavoured to divert her mind to other subjects, and to this end determined to pay another visit to the old fort. She was prompted to it by a thought of having too long forgotten the Indian maiden who slept within the ruins.
It was a glorious morning as she set forth for a walk to the place.
The way was through a belt of timbered land leading to a creek, spanned by a rude wooden bridge. On the other side lay the ruin.
The wood was passed in safety, and she reached the water’s edge. To her amazement she found the creek greatly swollen; this often happened after heavy rains, though she had never before seen it in that condition.
She proceeded along the causeway leading to the bridge, that seemed to offer a safe means of crossing.
She paused to contemplate the current, bearing upon its bosom the torn trunks of trees caught in its rapid course.
In another moment she was upon the bridge, and had got midway over it, when a tremulous motion of the planks caused her to hesitate. As she stood still the motion ceased, and smiling at her fears she again proceeded.
Not far, however. Ere she had made three steps forward, to her horror the motion re-commenced with greater violence.
She saw it was too late to retreat, and sped onward, the planks swaying fearfully towards the water.
Believing it best to proceed, she took courage for a fresh effort, and kept on towards the other side. It was a fatal resolution.