The Vermont transcript. [volume] (St. Albans, Vt.) 1864-1870, 1864-11-25

al. without emotion,
oShe died at midday. Till night /
do not know what did. ! felt stunned
and broken and dying myself but at
last, worn out MS was with watching
and sitting up, / fell asleep and by
Gods mercy she came to me in my
dreams and told me to be coinforted.
The next night she came again, and
from that time to this has never failed
me. Then 1 felt that it was my duty
to live; that if my life was valueless to
myself, it was not to you. So | came
homo. 1 dare say it is only freak Of
my imagination. Perhaps | even pro-
duce an illusion by an effort of my will
But however that is, it has saved me
from going mad or killing myself
How does she come? Always as she
was in that first summer that we spent
here, or in our early time in Italy al
ways cheerful and beautiful always
alone, always dressed as she used to
dress, talking as she used to talk--not
an angel, but herself Sometimes we
go through whole day of pleasure,
sometimes she only comes and goes
but no night has ever been without
! her; and indeed l think that her visits
are longer and dearer as l draw near
to her side again, | sometimes ask
myself which of my two lives is the
real one. l ask myself now, and can
not answer. should think that the
other was, if it were not that while |
am in this l recollect the other, and
while | am in the other / know moth
ing beyond. And this is why my sor-
row is not like that of others in my
position. know that no night will
pass without my seeing her; for my
health is good enough, and l never
fail to sleep. Sleeplessness is the only
earthly evil dread, now you are pro-
vided for Do not think me hard to
You in not having told you of this be-
fore. 1t is too sacred thing to be
spoken of without necessity. Now
write to your husband that is to be,
and tell him to come here.
did SO, and the preparations for
my marriage began. Stephen was
very kind; but his thoughts wandered
further and further day by day. ]
l spoke to doctor, "a friend Of his
about him, but it seemed that nothing
really allied him. / longed, almost to
pain, to ask him more about MaiSon
but he never gave me an opportunity
[ If | approached the subject he turned
the talk in another direction, and my
/ old habits Of submission to him pre-
vented me from going on. Then came
my wedding -day. stephen gave me
| away. and sat by my side at the break
fast. He seemed to hang over me
| more tenderly than ever, as he put me
into the carriage and took leave of me
The last thing did as l leaned out
E of the carriage window was to tel
. him to be sure to be my first visitor il
my own home.
r "No, Margaret" he said, with sac
f smile Say goodbye to me now; m.
r work is done +"
t Scarcely understanding what he said
: I babe him goodbye; and it was no
I till my husband asked me what h,
!, meant that remembered his strang,
? look and accent. I then felt hal
e frightened about him; but the novelt,
!, of my first visit abroad made me for
e get my fears.
c The rest is soon told. The first let
: ter received from England said tina
n on the very morning after my mar
: riage he had been found dead an,
r cold in his bed. He had died withou
/ pain, the doctor said, with his RICH
d hand clasping his left above the wrist
1t and holding firmly, even in death,
d circlet of Marion's hair.-Loadon One
i a Ueek.