Daily evening star. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1852-1854, 1853-01-06
DAILY EVENING STAR,
A GAMBLERS END.

it is not for us mortals to explain their ma
ture, as how can we explain the commonest
incidents Of our every day life? Yet as
there is an unearthly stiffness Immediately
preceding the furious rush Of the hurricane,
as momentary palsy, frightful from it's
lndistinctness, appears to pervade nature
on the eve Of an earthquake, SO may the
shadow Of His uplifted arm be seen athwart
the sky ere the Avenger has dealt the blow
which is to .prostrate us in the dust
An icy chill crept over me, dull fore
boding of evil came upon me, as I walked
up the steps of Hillingdon's well known
residence, long before I discovered that the
shutters were closed, and that the house
bore that solemn, mysterious air, which,
we cannot tell why, is inseparable from the
abode Of death.
A glance at the pale face of the servant
who answered the door, a hasty inquiry for
Captain Hillingdon's own man, and stag
gered into chair in the hall, with the
whole truth indellibly and unerringly i'm.
pressed on my brain. 1t was needless to
explain-I required no hesitating sympa-
thizer to break to me, forsooth, the CHASTITY
reality-I knew it before I was told-Hil-
lingdon had shot himself that very morning!
Strange as it may appear, it was more diff
cult to realize the truth of the awful tidings,
when the old and faithful servant, himself
bowed down and prostrated with horror and
CONSERVATION, stammered out the particu-
lars into my ear, than in that first moment
of consciousness, when, without the aid of
any outward voice, I knew the frightful
truth.
There, in his own sitting room, his hat
and gloves on the table, the very cigar case
had given him, lying ready for use-it
seemed impossible-impossible! Every
thing betokened life, and life's enjoyments;
the colors were scarcely dry upon his easel;
and those very flowers which he had him
self disposed in their vase, with his woman
ly appreciation of everything that was lovely,
those flowers were blooming fragrant as ever,
and could he, the master, be lying up stairs
with cloth over his head, q mutilated
corpse? And such an ending! To die by
his own hand. dared not pursue the train
of my thoughts any further, and it was al
most relief to sit and listen to the poor
old domestic's broken narrative of the events
which had led to the fatal conclusion we
could even now scarcely bring ourselves to
believe. One thing I remarked, and one
thing only which might lead me to suppose
that change had come over the habits of
my friend. Occupying prominent situa-
tion in his sitting room, portrait hung,
which ever since l had known him, was
carefully yelled by a black curtain. Not
one of his friends had ever seen the paint
ing, and the supposition that it was like
ness of the unfortunate Austrian lady to
whom in early life he had been attached,
was sufficient to check all curious remarks
or ill-timed illusions, as regarded a subject
on which he himself preserved unbroken ST.
lence
The curtain was now removed, and as
sat opposite the picture, listening to the
dreadful details Of her lovers death, I
could not keep my eyes from dwelling on
the gentle features of her who had exercised
such a baneful influence on my poor friend.
She was portrayed as fair, high-born
looking girl of some nineteen summers, but
: what was most striking in the countenance
was that eager, high-souled, and yet suffer-
ing expression, which gave such interest to
poor Hillingdon's own features-that un-
earthly look which those who are doomed
to an early death seem to bear on their
foreheads, as the premonitory seal of the
destroyer spirit beauty which the spirit
claims to wear here in consideration of its
premature release; and this was as manifest
on the lovely portrait of his youthful bride,
as knew it to be on that glorious counte-
nance which was lying up stairs fixed and
cold in death