Baton Rouge tri-weekly gazette & comet. [volume] (Baton Rouge, La.) 1865-18??, 1867-02-19
destiny felt to be full Of despair

destiny felt to be full Of despair
"You will not speak" her lover
whispered. How shall I interpret
this silence F?
With an effort, she reused herself
from her abstraction and placed her
hand in his. He pressed it passion
ately. s#..s.. r
"My life's devotion shall thank
you," he murmured looking tenderly
into the face, that was too white
and calm to have satisfied more
exacting and less unselfsh lover.
Detaching a superb ring from his
guard-chain, he sought to place it on
the betrothal finger. But there was
ring already there-a thin, black
Enthusiastically contrasting with
the moony opal shining in the centre
of the star wreath Of diamonds,
which was Col. Ashland6 seal of
betrothal.
He paused and looked at it.
~ cannot permit this" he said
playfully, pointing to the black ring.
"You have given this hand into my
possession. My first act of owner.
| ship will be to remove this barbarous
ornament from mine own especial fin.
ger, and supply its place by another
more appropriate. Constance, why
do you wear this ugly thing7
He made movement to withdraw
it, as he spoke, but she wrenohed her
hand away With sudden violence and
shraDk back-pale and agitated.
"Never, never" she repeated in
low, passionate accents.
She did not utter another word. She
did not seem to heed or even hear his
passionate disavowal of any intention
to wound her-his tender entreaties
for pardon. She stood in the moon.
light-cold and white-a statue of
despair, With her look fixed intently
upon vacancy.
What terrible vision, swept before
her gaze, thus to trans6x her eyes
with that awful look Of sorrow!
This was the vision, that Con-
stance Neville saw.
A besieged city-torn and black
ened with shot aud shell-half de.
serted by its inhabitants-its streets
filled with pale and famished sol.
diers. with dead and dying, uncof
fined corpses and wretches, who
called aloud for death to end their
agonies-a City crouching under the
double horror Of Famine, and of the
death-dealing Guns Of Foe, whose
name was Legion-Guns, yawing
forever upon it, like the red-hot
Threats of hungry Demons.
She seemed to hear the slow flap
ping of a stated Vulture. S b
looked where his shadow fell beneath
her on the slender figure and bowed
head of fair-haired youth, who
crouched behind the blood.sprinkled
breastworks of the front. His gun
lay across his knees, and, on this
soiled note book, in which he
wrote with rapid pencil. The
words that were written by those
emaciated fingers! Alas She had
halt forgotten them, but they came
to her now in a wild fash of recol-
lection, that seemed to burn upon
her brain.
Il am writing to you my darling
behind the breastworks in an inter-
val of calm that may end at any mo-
ment in charge. There is hardly
a chance that the words may meet
your eye, but it is comforting even
to write your name, and it is ex-
pressly sweet to forget, even for an
instant, this horrible Pandemonium
in dream of her, who is my earthly
type of immortal lovliness and pu-
rity. / have enjoyed this happiness
to day-even amid the roar Of can
non and the shout of blood-thirsting
fiends-enjoyed it in the brief inter.
walls of leisure, as I sat, carving a
rude little ring, (such as our old SOL
diers have learned me to fashion)
and shaping it to fit my darling's
slender finger. Constance, it is
made from gutta percha button,
cut by an enemy's bullet from the
gray jacket I wear. For this reason,
| know you will prize the triAing
souvenir. You will press it to your
dear lips, and for my sake, you will
wear it until"
This was all. The letter ended
how? A chorus of demoniac
yells seemed to shiver the air around |
her-faces doomed up black and |
grimy and glaring from the breast
works, hands brandishing the deadly
she'll with its cut fuse-a burst of