rdt Ingebertsen, and his wife and
children. Only a quarter of a mile of the still ocean separates her
from safety and comfort. She sees the children playing about the door;
she calls and calls. Will no one ever hear her? Her torn feet torment
her, she is sore with blows and perishing with cold. At last her voice
reaches the ears of the children, who run and tell their father that
some one is crying and calling; looking across, he sees the poor
little figure waving her arms, takes his dory and paddles over, and
with amazement recognizes Maren in her night-dress, with bare feet and
streaming hair, with a cruel bruise upon her face, with wild eyes,
distracted, half senseless with cold and terror. He cries, "Maren,
Maren, who has done this? what is it? who is it?" and her only answer
is "Louis, Louis, Louis!" as he takes her on board his boat and rows
home with her as fast as he can. From her incoherent statement he
learns what has happened. Leaving her in the care of his family, he
comes over across the hill to the great house on Appledore. As I sit
at my desk I see him pass the window, and wonder why the old man comes
so fast and anxiously through the heavy snow.

Presently I see him going back again, accompanied by several of his
own countrymen and others of our workmen, carrying guns. They are
going to Smutty-Nose, and take arms, thinking it possible Wagner may
yet be there. I call down-stairs, "What has happened?" and am
answered, "Some trouble at Smutty-Nose; we hardly understand."
"Probably a drunken brawl of the reckless fishermen who may have
landed there," I say to myself, and go on with my work. In another
half-hour I see the men returning, reinforced by others, coming fast,
confusedly; and suddenly a wail of anguish comes up from the women
below. I cannot believe it when I hear them crying, "Karen is dead!
Anethe is dead! Louis Wagner has murdered them both!" I run out
into the servants' quarters; there are all the men assembled, an
awe-stricken crowd. Old Ingebertsen comes forward and tells me the
bare facts, and how Maren lies at his house, half-crazy, suffering
with her torn and frozen feet. Then the men are dispatched to search
Appledore, to find if by any chance the murderer might be concealed
about the place, and I go over to Maren to see if I can do anything
for her. I find the women and children with frightened faces at the
little cottage; as I go into the room where Maren lies, she catches my
hands, cr