The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1867-03-27

UGD1CUcO Oh his IiCc.
s'Let us co. said Madame de Foe,
in low tones.
L turned to look at her-she was
deadly pale.
did you hear that awful shriek?"
[ asked, when we found ourselves in
the street.
She said, in agitated tones, ''Yes.
How dreadful!'
"What could it have been?'' I said,
Monderingly.
She sighed deeply, and putting her
arm within mine, hastened ner steps.
Once after i allude&; to it. She
said. solcmnly, ''Aever speak of it,
Catherine; it is too dreadful," and
she shuddered.
HBut what can it be?' 1 perSis ted;
''it is not human-it is unearthlv.
Did l believe that the spirit of the
dead could visit earth, I might think,
madame, that you and I had heard
the voice of some poor, gricving
spirit.
AT these words, her face assumed a
deadly paleness, and her lips trem-
bled. Seeing that I noticed her agi
tation, she Immediately threw it off,
saying, "Come, Catherine, let me
dispel your gloomy thoug ghts with
music. And seating herself at the
piano, she ran her fingers over the
keys, eliciting a gush of melody that
sounded like the ripping of silvery
streams.
Before we parted, ] promised to
visit her in her home. Several
months elapsed before L could fulfill
my promise, and her letters were fre-
quent and urgent.
One night, [ dreamed that she
stood beside me, looking wretchedly
wan. She said, 81 have come to bid
you good-bye." I answered, 'sBut
You viii return again?'' ''No," she
said, emphatically, ''never;" and van
ishcd Immediately through the open
door. l was going to say that I was
no believer in dreams; but how can |
declare that, when [ remember how
slgnally, in my own case, many of my
night visions have been realized?
God has taught, and may he not
teach again, by dreams? Job says,
'ln dream, in q vision Of the night,
when deep sleep falleth upon men; in
slumbcrings upon the bed, then God
openeth the ears of men and sealeth
their instruction.
So deeply was I impressed by this
dream, that the next day [ made pre-
parations for my departure, and soon
found myself in the luxurious but
somewhat gloomy chateau of Madame
de Foe. [ met her i'll; she had Just
ruptured blood vessel, and she ex-
claimed, as [ entered
81 knew that you would come. I
dreamed, a few nights since, that You
stood beside my bed, and YOU said,
i have come to stay with you until
you leave me foerver.' 1t was on
Thursday night I saw you, in the
very dress you now wear, only, in
stead of that linen collar, YOU had on
one Of point lace
L threw Off my sacque. She smiled:
''Ies, there's the very collar
How strange! It was on Thursday
/ had my vision.
Madame grew gradually worse;
some days she was strong enough to
be lifted out of bed and placed in a
chair beside the window. Then she
would lie long, weary days, as if there
was no life in her. She scarcely
moved, scarcely breathed. For three
months, l kept my weary vigils be-
side her, until death terminated the
scene.
She had bequeathed me her desk,
i with tnc contents; and on the night
she died, as I sat beside her lifeless
remains, the old nurse having fallen
asleep in her chair, [ drew madame's
last gift to me, and taking the KEY.
which she had given me before her
death, [ opened the desk. One by
one, [ examined the jewelry of rare
and exquisite workmanship, then
returned them to their places. There
was aspackage of letters, tied with a
faded blue ribbon. I opened them,
and was soon cngrossed in their con
tents.
One of these letters was wrapped
around gold medallion, which con
tanned the likeness of young man.
1t was quiet face, but replete with
expressions; the large, dark eyes
looked serious, but serene; the lips
were firmly compressed, and but for
q smiling look, would have given the
face a stern expression; the straight
nose was Grecian in its regularity,
and the brow, broad and ample, told
! Of t