The Feliciana Democrat., 1858-12-25

them was one richly dressed, and bearing the
marks Of rank and wealth, for those were the
DAYS when travellers wore more of the insignia
than now. He was young and strong, and 1t
was manifest that he was not dead. But u
strange stupor, whether of cold or otherwise
had taken possession Of him, and he lay mo
tonless on the floor before the fire, until a
sharp cry from the inner room reached his be-
numbcd senses.
The lady had at length opened her eyes.
and n sense of her position slowly forced itsclf
upon her intellect A few questions in French,
which Bessie understood and answered, sulli
ced to explain ALL and then she walled aloud
| in the perfect abandonment OF woe.
Philippe, mon Philippe, oh mon Den Il
est mort mon ami, ma vie, mort, mort! and
she sank back faintng on the pillow.
He heard that cry and rose to his feet AT
first. for an instant, he seemed to be confused,
but the next moment the whole truth crossed
his mind aud with conr'y bow to those who
surrounded him, he said i understand all.
1t is that am wanted And without further
parley, stalkrd into the room where the two
girls lay side by side.
oh, God, it is he tit is he = shriekcd the
unknown in voice ofcxtremcst joy, and reach
ng out hcr two hands TO him with u smile, re-
apsea into uncouSciousucss
S'prinm TWO persons on the bed where he had
thought 10 see hni one he hcsitatcd.
4 i beg pr on
+ At the sound Of his voice, Bette Lnton
lcaneh forward suddenly and looked into his
couiltrnnn,c No one may hope to describe
the rleam that flashed across her face as she
Spnke one word:
philip
Bessie, Bcssicn said he, staggering, rather
than rushing forward, and then fell on the
floor hy the bedside his hands sczng and his
lips kissing the folds of her garment that swept
across the feet Of the dead girl who lay beside
her
Philip, is it yon at last, my husband, my
beloved. Have You ut last come to see me
dr?'
Die! who talks of death? Marie, Marie!
Bessie, wax" her. speak to her, rouse hor--she
is cold Did yon say dcadY
What mean yon Philip? Who is ths?'
This! She is Marie. Marie!
And what to youy
TO me! Sh" is my-my-'
Philip" speak not the word, wife or what,
I care not see all now Silence, say
They have called me by the name you have
given that child! Oh, wretched man! Know
You not that having left me to bear the agony
Of that curse falsely was enough, but yon must
give the false name to her too? Philip, have
/ it IN my heart to curse you. know not whe-
thcr should pray to God to night to damn
You for yorlr sin or no. | love you, | love You,
Philip, aud hate you too.
She glared at him with her fierce black eyes
and he was silent, but looked mt her.
Aye, look at me, your wreck, your ruin
See you this cheek? Yon kissed it, loved TO
kiss it over. 1t will be food for worms next
spring. God knows if it be not next week !!
See these arms. How you loved their clasp.
And yet you wandered off from them and
sought embraces elsewhere and forgot them.
What delights those were, O Philip! Have
you had such with this fra child? Did you
love her, Philip? love her too for this that
she loved you and was beloved by you Did
she know that you had wife, or did she think
her check the first that ever lay on your
! breast? Did you ever her tell her of mcg
fcrccly, and he was silent still Only a hoarSe
murmur, as if he would speak, escaped his lips,
but he had not spoken
Anu yeI io'e you, lhllIlp, love YOU
that am dying say it again. Dying--O God,
is this life! prayed just now for death, and
now pray to live, for have found him! found
: him in the arms of another but what of that !!
: would tear him out Of the arms of an angel
} -and clasp him to my own heart to bc-as he
J is--mine, my own. Philip, this body Of mine
is dying See these breasts, and she tore
open her vest to show him her white bosom
J these breasts that piIlowed your cheek are to
be hillocks Of dust in the graveyard under the
J windmill. So end all the delights of love So
ends hope. Sc ends grief So ends the brief,
and sad life Of Bessie Laton. You have kill
ed her. -but--but-- -but--lay yonr head here
once more, once more, my husbandp
She reached her arms out him, and he threw
himself across the dead form of the French girl,
into the embrace that waited him. Their lips
met, and they were silent while life grew to i'm
mortality Of joy in that ong kiss, and then
there was cold shudder in her frame---a re-
Iaxng Of the clasp--a strange fierce smile on
her face-and they carried him away
She did not die until two or three weeks la
ter, bnt she never knew father, mother or hls-
band again
! Who he was no one knew for his linS were