New Orleans daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1851-1866, 1857-07-18

punish George and that he will protect you for my
sake. And now, good bye. my own dear girl For |
give me-think kindly OF me when am gone, though
have been your ruin for the sake Of the love bore
you and for the sake Of our dead little one, whom
hope soon to meet in heaven J!
She knelt down once more and wound her arms
round her first last-only love. Their lips met in
one long, parting kiss a murmured "a God bless you
Roland. as Rachel doesn and the poor girl parted
from him forever in this world. H.S
Well-nigh overcome by emotion, weak with loss OF
blood Roland had still sacred duty, as he deemed it.
to perform. Mastering his feelings, he called his
father to his bedside, and taking his hand in bis own
after desiring that his dying blessing might be trans
mtted to his brother and sister, he passed on to that
which was nearest to his heart in his last moments
Father implore you, by the love you profess for
me- to grant me these avors-these requests Of your
dying son: firstly, that you will never in any way,
directly or indirectly seek to punish George Brooke
for the share he had in last nights tragedy secondly
that you will think kindly in christian charity
for nv sake, Of poor Rachel-U cannot tell you her
history now as regards me, cousin William here will,
when am dead) -and that you will settle, in my be-
half on her for life, such an annuity as will enable
her to live respectfully wherever she may WISH"
For a while the father combated his sons merciful
intensions towards the poacher, till, seeing delay
panied Roland, he yielded gave the required promises
on the sacred word Of a Maskelyne, and in few
minutes heard is son say solemnly: .-.s
Father, / thank you: die happy! Forgive me,
if have been hayward and have clouded our house
with lifelong sorrow. My presentiments are full
filled! l pray God that it will avert the Abbot's
curse from the next generation of our family but
dare not hope it," The voice grew gradually weaker
and we knew that death had come for him at last
Clasping my hand for Gods forgiveness of his SINS
he spoke these last, strange words:
"Scoff neyermore at the Abbot's curse !" And
the noble spirit of Roland Maskeyne SO passed away
Let me draw veil over the few days preceding
his funeral Such sorrow should be sacred, and any
delineations of mine of sorrow like then could
but be painful to yon now. .s
/ %hoC nf CHI
time vet loved so well, borne to the grave Of the
Maskelynes I; and l know that while the beautiful
ritual Of church was being read by the rector of
| Beauchamp in voice tremulous with hardly sup
pressed emotion, there was not dry eye among all
that rustic concourse of honest hearts from far and
near in the old churchyard And own shuddered
lin superstitious awe, as reader may think) when
1 my eyes fell upon two sapngs which Roland himself
had planted iu my presence some time BEFORE in his
own words to overshadow my grave when the curse
is fulfilled !"
By the old mans desire I remained with him o
week after his sons funeral. told him him the his
nothing and had, ere that week expired the salts
faction Of being the bearer of kindly note from Mr.
Maskelyne to her, and have since heard that very
shortly after my departure handsome annuity was
settled upon Rachel Brooke for her life. George es
caped, and has never been seen since. His gang is
broken up and the Abbey Woods, since that fata
night, seem to have few temptations for the Beau
champ villagers.
my cousins grave, did pay visit to BeauchamI
Abbey. Old recollectons made that so painful to
that have never repeated it. remember one night
stroling through the churchyard when all the village
seemed asleep. As Ipassed near the massive cross
which marked Rolands restingp place, heard SOUND
, Of sobs. l was startled but, quickly shaking of
that feeling, / strobe to the grave and there witt
her face bent down to the turf, knelt poor Rachel
answer to my questions, she told me that since hi
death she had never omitted a nightly visit to he
: lovers grave-and there doubt not, she will som
morning be found lying broken-hearted on the daise
} which fold the tomb of him she loved so well. AM
now, dear reader, shall I confess it?-whenever
hear men soothing at variations of this kind oil
) womens tales feel choking sensation in m
throat for my mind wanders back to the cross tina
tells at once the grave Of my lost cousin Maskeyne
and the " Abbot's curse"