The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1867-10-25
a STRUGGLE FOR I.lFE.

lonnging along Inc MAIL. MS man lace
forced itself upon me, and n very singular face
il was His eyes We're faded, and his hair,
which he wore long, was Gecked with gray.
His hair and cycs, if | may say 50, were Sc
yenty years old, the rest of him not over
thirty The youthfulncss of his figure, the
elasticity of his gait and the Ncncrabl" APP
nearance of his head, were incUnsrulticS mat
drew more than enc pair of curious eyes to-
wards him.
Then. next morning l again encountered him
on The Mall.
would Won - replied 4 voice n my side.
| turned and faced Mr.. Il, a neghbor Of
mine. who laughed heartily IT finding me
talking TO myself. - We'll, he added re-
Occliuglv, Il can tell You this ma" : story:
and if Won can match the narrative with any
thing as curious | shall bc glad to hear it,
You know him, them
Eyes and no. | happened TO be in Paris
when he WAS buried.
Buried ~
"Wcl. strictly speaking, not buried: but
something quite like il. If you have spare
hour" continued my inl"rlocuior, - we II Stl
on this bench, and will tell You all | know of
IN affair that made some NOISE III 1 ''rlS coh-
pie of year. ago.
Three persons were sitting in 4 chamber
whose one window overlooked the Place en-
dome nj norine, with his back hall turned
on the other two occupants OF tue apartment,
was reading the MDUitcUr, pauSing from time
to time to wipe his glasses and taking scrurn-
lous pains not 10 s,lauc" towards III" lounge on
his right, on which were seated MadrmoIS"llc
DUrine and L young American %enilcinah'
whose handsome face frankly told his position
in the family. There vas not Il happier man
in Paris that afternoon than Philp Went
worth In certain natures I'D" ucepest JOY
has something of melancholy III ii, Il present.
mont 4 tiectiuE zalinesS, 4 feeling without 4
name Wentworth was conscious OF this
subtle shadow that night, when he rose from
the lounge. and thoughttully heid jules
hand to his lips for moment before parting
l.,ii his and
forward "If the house, he said, - is such
as NJ. Martin describes it TO be-, advise you 10
close with him NJ once. l would accompany
YOU, Philip, but the truth is, am too sad 1T
losing this little bird 10 assist you in selecting
a cage for her. BY MORO" night, he add
ed, laughingly, "little Julie here viii be IN
old lady-'lis such an age from now uhlll
then
The next morning tn" train bore Philip TO
one of the Iovelicat Spots within thirty miles
of Paris. An hours walk through green lanes
brought him TO NJ. Martins estate. lmakind
of II dream the young man wandered from
room 10 room, and after dining WIN NJ. MAR
tin, completed the purchase, ana turned his
steps towards the station Just III time TO catch
the express train
On reaching Paris he drove to. his hotel
where he found several letters lying on the
table. He did not trouble himself even 10
glance ut their superScriptiOns us he threw
aside his travelling surtout for i more appro-
pirate dress.
If. 1 his lmDatlpnCp 10 see ht3ttlnDlSpllt
Dorine, the cars had appeared 10 walk, the
tiacrc to creep, At last ii turned into the Place
Nendome and drew up before NJ. Dorine's
residence. The door opened as Philips foot
took his cloak and hat with special defer
cnce, he thought; but, was lie not now one of
the t:lmllyf
m. Dorine,' said the servant, slowly, lis
unable to see Monsieur II present. He wishes
Monsieur to be shown up to the S0lon.'
as Monsieur-'
"Yes, Monsieur"
"Alone?"
{" Alone, Monsieur" repeated the man,
looking seriously at Philip, who could scarce
ly rapress an exclamation of pleasure.
1t was the first time that such Il privilege
had been accorded MIN.
phiiip did not linger oil the staircase: his
heart sank in his BOSOM us ne lie" up 'hc
stems two ut Il time.
nh. room was darkened. Underneath the
chandelier stood q dim black caskct or trestle.
A lighted candle, cruciiiX, and som" white
flowers were on 4 table near by. Julie Dorine
was dead.
When NJ Dorine heard the understandable
crv that rang through the silent house, he
found Philip standing like ghost i'll the mid
die of the chamber
ON the previous night Mademoiscle Dorine
had retired 10 her room IN seemingly perfect
health. She dismissed her maid win re-
uucst to be awakened early the next morning.
At the appointed hour the girl entered the
in I'm arm chair, apparenely asleep. The can
die had burnt down 10 the socket; book lay
half open on the carpet 1T her feet. The girl
started when she saw that The bed had not
been occupied, and that her mistress still wore
an evening dress. She rushed To Mademoi-
selle Dorine's side. 1t was not slumber. 1t
was death.
| the sadness of her death. and the romance that
| had in some way attached itself 10 her love
| for the Young American, drew crowds TO Wit
| ness the funeral ceremonies which took place
| in the Rue dAguesseau The body was 10 be
| laid i'll NJ. DorlneS tomb, III the Cemetery
MOutmartre.
This tomb requires 4 few words of descrip-
ton First, there was grating OF Migrated
iron through this you look into Il small rcsti-
bulc or hall, ut the end Of which was Il mas.
siye door of oak, opening upon Il short Hight
of steps descending into the tomb. The vault
was fifteen or twenty feet square, lngcnIouslY
ted from the ceiling, but unliShtcd. 1t
contained two SarconhaSi; the 1fSt held the
remains of Madame Dorine, long since dead;
the other was new, ana bore on one side the
letters j D., in monogram, interviewer with
feuTS de lis.
The funeral train stopped NJ the gate of the
small garden that enclosed the place OF burial,
only the Immediate relatives following the
bearers TO the tomb. A slender WAX candle
such rs are used in Catholic churches, burnt
4, the foot of the uncovered sarcophigl, cast
ing dim glow over the centre OF the apart
mcnt, and deepening the shadows which
seemed TO huddle together i'll The corners. by
this tiickcring light the coffin was placed i'll
its granite shell, the heavy slab laid over ii
reverently, and the oalieu door rerolred on its
rusty hinges, shutting out the uncertain ray
of sunshine that n;tu Nehtuieu ~ peep Ill OIL
the darkness.
NJ Doriue muitlcd in his cloak, threw him.
self on the back seat OF the carriage, too alb
stracted in his grief to observe that he was
the only occupant of the vehicle.
a a "a 49, 4, -.
when Philip opened his eyes, bewildered like
a man abruptly reused from slumber. lie
raised one arm, and stared into the surround
ing blackness. Where was he? IN Il second
the truth flashed upon him. lie had been left
in the tomb. While knecing on the farther
side of the stone box, perhaps he had tainted,
and in the last solemn rites his absence had
been unnoticed.
His first emotion was one of natural terror.
But this passed rs quickly as 1t came Life
had ceased to be so very precious TO MN and
If II were his fate to die 1T jules side, was
not that the fulti!ment of the desire which he
had expressed TO himself a huhureu 'iines that
morning. Was il not coWaruly 70 Sleid up
guard for her sake Was it not his duty 10
the living and the dead to face the difficulties
ol ms position and overcome them III III were
"ithih human power? The vague lear OF Inc
supernatural that would affect most men III 4
SiiliilT situation found no room in his heart.
ne WAS simply shut into Il chamber from
Wiiich II was necessary that he obtain release
within a given period. That this chamber
contained tne body of the woman he loved, so
lar from adding To The terror of the case, was
4 circumstance from which he drew cousola
toil. She was i beautiful statue now. Her
soui was lar hence and if that pure spirit
couid return, would IL not be TO shield him |
with her lover 1t was impossible that the |
place should not engender some thoughts OF
the kind.