Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1868-02-13

| ne was senSeleSS. a minutes eXamtna-
tion told me the case was hopeless; alas, 1t
| told me also that the attenuated, misera-
bic being before me was my old friend,
George Belfont. Fortunately, however,
service in the field teaches one to act first
and feel afterward; so on the instant 1
had the poor fellow taken to my own
house, and placed in the bed from which
myself and wife turned out, while he re-
mained with us:
Afraid of the shock that the sight Of an
old friend might cause him L asked q
medical acquaintance to attend him. He
did so for q week, when, although his
case still remained hopeless it was
thought 1 might with safety see him. 1
shall never forget that interview. When
entered the room he was doZing--it was
the first sleep he had had-and 1 sat
down by his side. He awoke. Seeing
me, he passed his hand across his eyes,
as If to be certain 1t was not vision. L
placed my finger upon my lips to enforce
silence.
"The Lord in heaven bless you, my
dear friendl' were his first words, as he
! placed his thin white fingers in my
| hand.
Hush George-yourlifed depends upon
your not becoming agitated," 1 said.
"Agitated!-agitated No, my agita-
ton Is now nearly passed. L am calm.
! | can become but one degree calmer--
deathW Then he started suddenly, rose
up in the bed, looked at me sternly,
Crawford, are the bounds near? Tell
me--tell me, like "a man-where am L?
Are they saving my life to hang me af-
terward?" ..0....s l...
Hush, George. Upon the word of
man, your existence is not known. You
are in my own house."
"Thank God, my friend!" and the
borrowed strength falling he fell back
ward.
AT length we succeeded In so far miti-
| eating his plan, that when alone he told
me his career from the time of the duel
with Little Billy" L will repeat this
narrative as pithly as possible.
! Passing through France to England,
Beliont made his way to the village of
| V, where, as so noDle and gallant
a fellow deserved, he was rapturously re-
ceiVed by his betrothed, and for time
! all seemed coutcir de rose. But the re-
membrance OF the duel with Billy, al asl
cast a shadow over his future. 1t had
been against his conscience, 1t hung upon
his spirits like cloud prophetic OF
coming storm of retrbutiOn. He felt he
was acting lie to the woman he was
about to marry the approaching spring.
The spring came: Beliont being in
town was induced to driveto the Derby.
The day was spent as all Derby days are
spent; he was returning home; u vehicle
shot ahead OF him, and in spirit of RI
valry not uncommon upon race days he
whipped his horse; wheel and wheel
caught; the vehicle of his opponent, if
may use the term, was upset, and its
owner thrown heavily to the ground
With the rapidity of thought Belfont
alighted and went to the assistance OF the
fallen man, who had received severe
confusion upon his head, and enraged
With the pain, and more than half fintoXi-
Gated, commenced a volley of abuse
10 put an end To the scene, Beltont gave
him his card with his address, telling
him that in the morning he would satisfy
him by making an ample APOLOGY to
any friend he might send, and so thought
no more ofthe matter till next day, while
at breakfast, gentleman waited upon
him.
"If, sir, you are the friend Of the gem
tleInan whom | so unfortunately threw
from his gig last evening, L viii at once
anticipate your message, 10y frankly Of
feling any apology that one gentleman
may make another through u third per-
SON"
"Stay, sir, / lam commanded to demand
" written apology"
For what purpose is n written apol-
OsH ItuulItos Ssiih lDCilOht
"That he may post you pardon me for
using my prompted languaSe) rs u cow
ard when and where he pleases."
This is sheer madness. Does your
friend know that il is To u soldier he au-
dresses this request?' said Belfont
" lie believes that it is Lieutenant Bel
font, late of the British Auxiliary Lee
gon. Is he righL"'
"He is"
"Then you can no longer wonder at
Mr.. Gray refusing 10 accept anything but
m ablect apology, ora meeting. In fact,
Mr. Belfont, he Will not rest satisfied
until you and he have stood before each
other in II struggle of life or death."
"G0od Heaven, how strange! the
brother of poor Gray" said Beliont, ad-
ding, however, when he had recovered
from his astonishment, but why should
Mr.. Gray seek my liie?"
He believes you to be the murderer
of his brother"
Maddened by the unexpected revival
of the old shame, he became mad
"Fool, fool" exclaimed Belfont, "was |
not the imposibility Of his having fallen |
by my hand proved?"
mo; but simply that he died by a |
bayonet, which was easily hidden by the
murdererS."
~ will not meet him. BY Heaven l |
will not-dare not" Beliont replied, not |
thinking that those very words lent |
strength to the suspicion against him.
"Then Mr.. Gray will proclaim you, sir,
what he believes you, an assassin and |
foul duelist, even To the Very woman of |
whose affections you have robbed my |
friend" said he.
what mean you?'' he exclaimed,
grasping his arm.
"That but for you, Mr.. Gray would |
have been married 10 Miss -, whom
he hears you are about 10 lead to the |
altar.
Great Heaven! another complication |
Then Jealousy, anger--eyery bad passion I
took possession of Beliont's mind. He |
felt in the hands of an invisible destiny !
that was dragging him downward /
downward TO destruction, and could |
make but one answer--to meet him.
They met the following day; but, thank
Heaven, Belfont had time TO cool. They
exchanged fire; his ball passed through =.
the rim of Belfont's hat, Bellont's lire |
was in the air. He insisted upon another |
fire, Belfont refused; he tauuted him /
with cowardice, and again the murder of |
his brother. My friend could hear no |
more. His opponent had his wish. They
fired; he fell dead, and from that mo- |
ment Beifont wandered about from town |
to town, endeavoring to secrete himself.
He had no friends in England; but, at |
last remembering me, he made his way |