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Catherwood, Mary Hartwell, 1847-1902

"Old Kaskaskia"


It was a sin to say she was longing for the mystery hereafter, when all
the beautiful mysteries here were unknown to her. Then Colonel Menard
was holding her up, and she was dragged to sight and breathing once
more, and to a solid support under her melting life. She lay on the
floor, seeing the open sky above her, conscious that streams of water
poured from her clothes and her hair, ran down her face, and dripped
from her ears. A slow terror which had underlain all these physical
perceptions now burst from her thoughts like flame. Her
great-grand-aunt, the infant of the house, was all this time lying at
the bottom of the old college. It was really not a minute, but minutes
are long to the drowning. Angelique caught her breath, saying,
"Tante-gra'mere!" She heard a plunge, and knew that Colonel Menard had
stood on the platform only long enough to cast aside his coat and shoes
before he dived.
The slaves, supporting themselves on their palms, stretched forward,
open-mouthed. There was the rippling surface, carrying the shadow of the
walls.


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