Elizabeth daily monitor. [volume] (Elizabeth, N.J.) 1868-1880, 1869-05-28
glisabsts Daily a q
PUBLISHED AT 155 BROAD STREET, BY
j. MADISON DRAKE.
NOT GUILTY.

tai, cold blooded murder it was called
of the young girl, Gabrielle Arnot by
name, ballet-dancer by profession,
and the perpetrator of which could me-
yer be discovered? Well, 1 am now
about to lift the veil from this mystic
ry. No living person besides can do it.
Perhaps /, who am about to die, should
let the secret die with me but it can
make no difference now to any one
living.
L loved Gabrielle Arnot from the first
hour [ saw her, when floating across
the stage like phantom of beauty, her
exquisite form vested in gossamer It's
sue, her long hair ripping and gleam-
ing like molten gold in the gaslight,
her fairy feet seeming by their own
motion to produce the harmony to
which they moved, she burst upon my
sight like vision of light-like some
thing perfect and ethereal, of which
poet may dream in hours of inspiration1
Nor did the charm wear away upon
! closer view and association. On the
contrary, it increased. For this young
girl, seen by broad daylight, was fresh
and fair as by gaslight-modest, too,
and gentle and artless, and winning, as
though she had never been compelled
by stern poverty to leave the sacred
shelter of the home in which she had
been brought up. From this, the
night of her first appearance in public,
to that last dread hour when she lay,
pale and pure as marble, upon her
couch, no word was ever whispered
against Gabrielle's good name.
Though she worked thus for money,
she was not mercenary. For I was
rich, and offered to make her my
wife. She refused, for she did not
love me. Others, too, were richer
than I, and their offers she rejected
with scorn. Yet I followed her I
could not have existed away from her
followed her from place to place,
from theatre to theatre, indulging in
half pain, half pleasure of seeing her
each morning, quietly reading or stitch
ing at her window, lovely in her simple
morning dress, and each evening, radi-
ant in jewels, and gold and silver It's
sues, enhancing crowds by her modest
grace as she foated across the stage, or
bent jim half lowly, half naughty ac-
acknowledgements, ankle deep in costly
boquets. did not seek to meet her
to converse with her-I could not have
borne that, but [ would watch her care
fully, myself hidden away in some OBJ
sure nook, and in this silent devotion
two years of my life had glided away,
proftless to others as myself.
1t was in the winter of 1858, that
La Belle Gabrille" had an engage
ment at the---theatre You may re-
member how rapturouslyg she was re-
ceived on the night of her debut. You
may even recollect what must have
been noticed by every one present, the
very handsome and distinque looking
young man, the honorable Philip de
Bar, eldest son of Earl of Compton,
who made himself conspicuous by his
rapt admiration OF the fair actress You
might have also observed another man.
4 also handsome and manly looking, but
| with none of the aristocratic elegance of
the Englishman, who stood at little
distance from the latter, and with dark
luminous eyes, jealousy watched every
glance of the latter, every look OF La
Grabielle. / saw all this; yes, and
understood it, too.
The dark eyed man was old friend of
Gabrielle-one who had known her
when child in her own home, and one
to whom, for more than a year past her
hand had been pledged. This it was,
in part, perhaps, that had preserved
her name unsullied.
But now, ali, there was formidable
rival for report whispered that the fu-
ture earl, hopeless of winning her upon
other terms, had actually offered his
hand and this prospective coronet to
the acceptance of the fair ballet dancer
Some doubted it did not for knew
what it was to love this girl
| had room in the same hotel with
Gabrielle, and adjoining hers. This
was an accident ] had never before been
SO near her. There was door between
the two rooms, and could hear her
singing, laughing OF even talking, some
times. Her laugh was light and ring
ing as child's and her songs gay. But
L noticed as days and weeks passed on,
that the laugh ceased and that her
songs became plaintive. Neither did
she look as radantly bright on the stage
as on her first arrival in New Orleans.
Something allied La Belle Gabrielle.
In the morning she would ride with
the Hon. Philip de Bar out of the CITY
along the lovely drives with tropical
trees and plants, whose atmosphere is
luxury. In the evening she would walk
quietly, arm-in-arm with Stephen Stan
bury her betrothed. Sometimes, of
late, they had not locke d very happy
when thus together. But one even
ing in January they returned looking
radiant-he, serenely, manfully happy;
she tender and joyous and [ knew that
there had been reconciliation. He
carried in his hand a boquet of pure