The Daily empire. (Dayton, Ohio) 1865-1867, 1867-03-02


kneeling do'yn and supporting the orusbcd
semblanca OF humanity on hfs knee nc bs
felt In his breast pocket for the nask n,
brandy he usually carried.
The stranger uttered a singular iarriuo
sound, half o groan and half laugh.
5 much hurt that the play Is about
over-curtaiu going to fall. Ell ? No. there's
no use" he added, rs Gervase wiped Inc
crimson clouds away with his own pocket
handkerchieL ri tell you I'm done for
Give me a little of that brandy-tbere.
thank you. SO ! am really dyingP'
"Iou cannot live half An hour longer -
said Gervase. struck with the de~adlvchanee
that was passing over the handsome, wick
ed features.
where's the odds9" demanded the
stranger, with the same reckless laugh.
stay though-you wouldn't object TO
taking q little trouble for a dying man Y'
u VIII DO anything can for YOU" said
"Thanks," said the man. ~ always
thought Il would end In some sudden way I.
and my wife-she won't miss me much. mi
be bound and yet | should have liked TO
ask her pardon for one or two things before
| 'shuilled off this mortal coil as old VIII
says. Will you fluid her out and Give her
a letter for me I've carried Il in my waist
coat pocket for mOnths-somehow |
thought ] should need It ali of a sudden at
last"
II will try said Gervase, whose whole
soul seemed to recoil from the unwelcome
task.
II can't find it," muttered the stranger.
feeling with weak, uncertain fingers about
his breast. 'Oh, here it Is. Give her the
letter the address Is there; aud tell her
that when was dying | was sorry to think
| had treated her so. May be she'll be hap
pier when am dead-it'il be the first time
Philip Vail ever did make her happy, poor
thing!"
Phillip Vail ~ repeated the Major.
But the glazing eyes looking helplessly
towards Gervase Wentworth, returned no
recognizing glance-the ears were clos
ing fast 10 all earthly sound, aud
the stranger never knew with what "A shud-
dering repulsion Wentworth laid his head
down among the spllntered wood and shat
tered seats.
One lamp yet hung flaring and smoking
from It's support, casting lurid brilliance
over the scene, and in the midst of that aw-
full confusion Gervase Wentworth read the
address of the letter, Gillian Vail, Venice,
Italy"
Read it-and knew that the cloud that had
hung over his existence was finally lifted
up-that Lillian was free at last. Not in
vain had his life been preserved by almost
~interpositiOn for so many years.
Vail had died with his head on Ger
vase Wentworth's arm, and Lillian was free.
The sun shone brightly on the sea; the
towers and cupolas of Venice CLEANED with
moulten gold, as once more Gervase Went
worth found himself ascending the broad
stone steps of the well-known hotel where
he had dreamed his brightest dream aud
walked his bitterest waking. No more
dreams-it should be reality now.
La Signora Vail ?' he asked.
The hostess turned pale and shrunk away
as she repeated, in q mechanical voice, Ma
jor WentwOrth's eager words.
Yes. Is she in ?" he questioned.
The hostess turned to a fair English mat
ron, who recognizing Gervase's voice, came
with outstretched hands.
"Major Wentworth |" she said. as it pos
sible that you are back amongst us once
more 2"
Once more Mrs. Treherne," he replied,
''and Lillian ?"
The sweet English face blanched.
Major Wentworth, you surely have
heard ?"
Heard what ?" he asked, 81 have heard
nothing"
Lillian Vail died last week. she replied.
Gervasc Wentworth staggered backward
sank upon a seat, with his hands to his
head, repeating incoherently to himself
Died last week. died last week.
While he was hurrying to her side with
,he blest tidings of her release, Il swifter .
had come and borne her away.
It seemed like a sick, dreadful dream, and
yet he knew it was the truth-the awful
II
"Died!' he repeated, turning almost
to poor Mrs. Treherne. "Why did y
let her die? She should never have !
lied had l been here" )
The room seemed to swim around him. Y
one cried out that the gentleman was q
and Gervase Wentworth remem- :
,ered no more. Il
Weeks afterwards, when the April violets 7
we're all in bloom, Geryase, just recovered y
"A long and weary fever, drove out to y
ny a cross of flowers on I.ilian's tomb, in y
Protestant cemetery near Venice. .
"Home ~ he said, in reply to Il question ?
ddressed him by Mrs. Treherne-'I shall W
ways remain in Venice. Lillian died o
ere, and here she is buried. Venice will !!
e,my home hereafter" =
Everyday there is a fresh cross of flow ?
RS upon the grave where poor Lillian :
all unconscious of the cup of happl- y
ess hat had been SO near her lips. !