The mountain Democrat., 1865-06-17

much as they wished 1t too, 1t was out Of
the question. Stephen bad saved but 1T
tie money, and could hardly see how he
and Marion were to live, unless he could
make himself a practice somewhere abroad
and, Consequently, his taking me also, as
not to be thought Of. Was to live for
the present with my married sister. 1t
was very hard to part with Stephen, with
whom | had lived all my life; il was
harder still to part with Marion, who had
been more than q sister to me ever since
| had known her. Stephen and l were
nearly overcome with emotion; but she
was calm and silent, with an intent, wist-
ful expression about her lovely face that
has haunted me ever since. can see it
now when l shut my eyes, though it was
fifty years ago. Need say that never
saw her again?
went to my sisters and began the
fashionable life l used to wish for. 1t was
not all that l pictured it, though it was
pleasant enough to occupy me in the day
/ time; but al night longed sadly for my
darlings.
Stephen wrote letters full Of hope, and
talked of returning after spending two
years in Italy. Marion, too. wrote favor.
ably ofherself, and my anxiety began to
lessen. There was another reason for
this at the same time-my late husband,
the friend and partner Of my sisters hus.
band, was at that time beginning to pay
his addresses to me and the tender cares
of my own case made me forgetful of the
troubles of others. Summer came round
again and one day as was half wishing
for my country home again, a letter ar
rived from Stephen. MaTion'S complaint
was at crisis, and great change ould
take place, one way or the other, in few
days. ] was to go home, put the place in
order, and be ready to receive them.
did not know till afterward that Marion
had begged to be allowed to die at home,
if the change were for the worse; if it
had been for the better, there would have
been no reason for her staying abroad.
Well, l went home, arranged every
thing, and waited for them. Three weeks
passed (the usual interval), and no letter
came a month, anu supposed they were
travelling slowly to avoid fatigue. Just
Eve weeks after had received the last
letter, was sitting alone, rather late in
the evening, when quick step sounded
in the road outside, and Stephen came to
the gate, opened it, entered the house,
and sat down 10 silence. He was dressed
as usual and looked tired and travel STAIN
ed !; but there was no sorrow in his face,
and felt sure that Marion must be safe.
! asked him where she was. He said she
was not with him.
Have you left her in Italy ?" l asked.
"She is dead" he answered, without a
shadow of emotion!
"How? 'Where!" was beginning 10
question him, but he stopped me.
Give tie something to eat and drink, >
he said. ~ have walked from the city,
and want to sleep"
| brought him what he wanted. He
bade me good. night and as saw he de-
sired it, left and went TO bed, full Of
grief, but even more of wonder that he,
who truly loved his wife if ever man did,
could speak of her not month after her
death Without his voice faltering or his
face changing in the least. Tomorrow
will solve the question:" said to myself
as, weary with crying, ! felt sleep coming
over me. But to morrow did not solve
the question. lie told NE as before, with
out emotion, what he wished me toknow,
and from that moment We spoke no more
on the subject. In every respect but this
he was my own Stephen of old-as kind
and thoughtful as ever, only altered by a
rather absent and abstracted manner. ]
thought at first that he was stunned by
his loss, and%ould ealize it most painful
ly afterward but months passed on with
out change. lie used Marion's chair,
or things of her work, or sat opposite her
drawings without seeming to 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, e,naturally man Of sedentary
habits, took great deal Of exercise, and
! knew that he kept laudanum in his bed,
room.
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,
for all the husbands in the world. lie
would not hear me.
al think it is your duty to marry him,
Margaret" be said. "You love him, and
have taught him to love you, and you
have no right to sacrifice him to me-"
my first duty is to you, Stephen. !
will not leave you alone"
~ see that must explain to you" he
said, after pause. When you leave
me shall not be alone"
"Who will be with you?" asked,
wondering
"Marion," he answ cred.
81 I started as If had been shot, for l
thought he must surely be mad but he
continued quite calmly and, as Usual,
without emotion;
g Sue died at M idday. Till night do
not know what did. | felt stunned and
broken and dying myself; but at last,
worn out as was with watching and sit
ting up, fell asleep and by Gods mercy
she came to me in my dreams, and told
me to be 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 If my life was
valueless to myself 1t was not SO to you
so came home. / dare say it is only
freak Of my imagination. Perhaps even
produce 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 Gomez Always as she was
in the first summer that we spent here, or
in our early time in Italy; always cheer
full and beautiful, always alone, always
dressed as she used to dress, talking as
she used to talk-not an angel, but her
SELF Sometimes we 60 through whole
day Of pleasure, sometimes she only comes
and goes but no night has passed with