The Burlington weekly hawk-eye. [volume] (Burlington [Iowa]) 1860-1876, 1864-12-03

would have been no reason for her stayina
abroad.
Well. went home, arranged everything
and waited for them. Three weeks passed
tthe usual interval) and no letter: q month
and l supposed they were travelling SLOWLY
70 avoid fatigue. On the day five weeks
after had received to last letter was sit
ting alone, rather late in the evening. when
quick step sounded in the road outside.
and Stephen came to the gate. opened il en-.
tered the house, and sat down in silence
de was dressed ~ usual, and looked tired
and travelstained; bat there was NO sor-
row in his face. and I felt sure that Marion
must % ne safe. asked him where she was.
de said she was not with him.
Have you left her in Italy? asked.
She il Dead he answered. without a
shadow of emotion.
How9 Where?' / was beginning ia
question him, but he stopped me.
Give me something to eat and dl ink. be
said. have walked from London. and
want to Sleep
brought him what he wanted. Hebade
me good night and saw he wished il.
left him and went to bed, full of grief. but
oven more Of wonder that he, who truly
loved his wife If ever man did, could SNEAK
of her not u month after her death without
his voice faltering or his face changing in
the least. Tomorrow will solve the cues.
ton, said to myself as, weary with cry.
ing, / felt sleep coming over me. But to-
morrow did not solve the question. He
told me as before without emotion, what he
wished me to know. and from that moment
we spoke no more on the subject. In eyery
respect but this he was my own Stephen oj
old, LAS kind and thoughtful as ever. only
altered by rather absent and abstractetl
manner. thought at first that ho was
stunned by his loss, and would realize il
most painfully afterward; but months
passed on without change. He used Ma
ri0n's chair, or things OF her work, or sat
opposite to her drawings without seeming
20 notice them; indeed. it was as if she had
dropped out OF his life entirely, and left
him as he was before he knew her. The
only difference was, that he, naturally q
man Of sedentary habits, took a great deal
Of exercise. and I knew that he kept lauda-
mum in his bed .oom.
At this time my lover was pressing me
to marry him and with much difficulty ]
consented to tell Stephen about it. though
had no intention Of leaving him. To my
surprise he seemed pleased. told him
that would never leave him alone. not for
all the husbands in the world; but he would
not hear me.
Il think it is your duty to marry him.
Margaret he said: You love him and
have taught him to love you, snd you have
no right to sacrifice him to me-
NY frst duty is to you, Stephen. will
not leave you alone
Il see that must explain to you,' he said,
after pause: when you leave me shall
who viii be with your asked, won
dering.
Marion
started as if had been shot, for tho't
he must surely be mad; but he continued,
quite calmly as usual, without emotion
She died at midday. Till night do not
know what I did. felt stunned and bro
out "a was with watching and sitting up,
I fell asleep; and by Gods mercy she came
to me in my dreams, and told me to he
comforted. The next night she came again
and from that time TO this has never failed
me. Then / felt that it was my duty to
live; that II my life was valueless to myself,
i was not 30 TO you. So I came home. l
daresay it is only q freak of my imagina-
ton. Perhaps I even produce an illusion
by an effort Of my will; but however that
is, it has saved me from going mad or kill
ing myself. How does she come? Always
as she was in that first summer that We
spent here, or in our early time in Italy;
always cheerful and beautiful, always
alone, always dressed as she used to dress,
talking rs she used to talk,-not an angel,
but herself. Sometimes we go through q
" hole day of pleasure, sometimes she only
CONES and goes; but no night has ever yet
been without her; and indeed think that
her visits are longer and dearer as draw
nearer to her side again. sometimes ask
myself which of my two lives is the real
one. ask myself now, and cannot answer.
should think that the other was, If 1t were
not that while am in this recollect the
other, and while am in the other know
nothing beyond. And this is why my sor-
row is not like that of others in my posi-
ton. know that no night will pass With
out my seeing her; for my health IL good
enough, and l never tail to sleep. Sleep
lessness is the only earthly evil I dread
me hard to you in not having told you OF
this before. 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.'
I did 30, and the preparations for my
marriage began. Stephen was very kind;
but his thoughts wandered further and
friend Of his, about him, but 1t seemed thu,
nothing really allied him. longed, almost
to pain, to ask him more about Marion
but he never gave me an opportunity. II
approached the subject he turned the talk
in another direction, aud my old habits Of
submission to him prevented me from 60
ing on. Then came my wedding day
NSs0IASSAs SOvG AAAO !" WY 0oN S0s ~ ~ SANe
at the breakfast. He seemed to hang over
me more tenderly than ever, as he put me
into the carriage and took leave If me.
The last thing did as I leaned out of the
carriage window was to tell him TO be sure
to be my first visitor in my own home.
NO, Margaret he said, with sad smile
say good bye to me now; my work il
Scarcely understanding what he said,
babe him good. bye; and It was not till my
husband asked me what he meant that
remembered his strange look aud accent.
/ then felt half frightened sbout him; bu,
the novelty Of my first visit abroad made
me forget my fears.
The rest is soon told. The first letter
received from Englond said that on the
very morning after my marriage he had
been found dead and cold in his bed. He
had died without pain, the doctor said,
with his right hand clasping his left arm
above the wrist, and holding firmly, even
ia death, a circlet Of Marion's hair.-Len-
don Once q Week.
How SHERMAN's MOVEMENT WAS
PT.ANNED.-NOw that Sherman campaign
~ oyor y fact which / neglected