a shrill
scream from above made their blood curdle. Shriek upon shriek followed,
as Katie came bounding down the stairs, almost knocking backward the
two who ran past her to Jessie's room. White and lifeless they found
her, prostrate, her arm still bound with the handkerchief. She had risen
nobly to the awful emergency, but succumbed when relief came.

In vain Katie continued a shriek that a murtherer was in the room. The
anxious watchers bent over their stricken darling, who was now lying on
her own bed and beginning to show signs of life.

Before they could ascertain what had happened, for Katie was crazed and
incoherent from fright, a furious ringing of the bell sounded long and
loud. Michael opened the door to a party of men who were in pursuit of
a strange-looking person whose face had been seen at the tower window;
whether an escaped lunatic from the state asylum, or an escaped murderer
for whom a large reward was offered, remained to be proved.

The search was instituted with George Randolph at the head. The victim
was soon unearthed, but in a moment, laughing wildly in the frenzy of
madness, he darted out upon the roof and, rather than be captured,
dashed himself to the pavement below.

All night they sat beside the brave girl, and bit by bit heard her
story. For days she was ill from the shock of her fearful experience.
The wedding was very quiet, but George refused to have it deferred.

It was months before the bride could summon courage to live at
Crestdale, and she was a much older woman before she could refer with
composure to Katie's murtherin' ghost.

Her Christmas Gift

A WHITE RIBBON STORY

She was born on Christmas Day, and so came, with her little white
face and solemn eyes, into her pale mother's life. She was worse than
fatherless. The beast of a man she might have come to call by that
sacred name, would now be beside the snowy cot, weeping in maudlin
rejoicing over his new treasure, if the mother had not resolutely put
him away some six months before.

The world knew him as Judge Barrett, a man of fine family, superb
talents, and a magnetic orator. He might be, perhaps, too convivial on
occasions, but was not this a common frailty among Kentucky's great
men? The wife knew him as besotted and disgusting. What mattered his
learning, his eloquence, his aristocratic blood, or ample income? To her
alone he brought his degraded mass of humanity day after day; and though
never personal