The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1870-03-11
COriginal.
oPESNEX
OR THE
FORTUNES OF JULIET CLAYBURN.

CHAPTER IX-MRs. THURLow LECTURES
Something-I know not what-does still up
hold
A spirit Of slight patence-not in vain,
Evon for its own sake, do Te purchase pain.
byron.
The soft shadows of q mild June day
stole silently over the landscape, hushing
she busy hum of the city, whore walked
the living and the sentient, and resting
darkly and drearily over that lovely spot,
which ''the City by the Sea" has conse.
Grated as q dwelling place for her cher
ished dead. In the dim, sad light, the
pale tomb-stones looked ghastly. and the
tall white monuments loomed up in the
mir, like grim spectral giants from the
past.
Mr. Clayburn arose from beside the
new-made grave of his wife, and, leaving
the burial enclosure where reposed so
many of his loved and lost-where bis fa-
ther and mother, his brothers and sisters,
his wife and his children, lay quietly sleep
ing the last unbroken sleep, slow in the
dust, slowly wended his way from Mag
nolia back toward the city. He ascended
the broad steps of his town house, so
desolate and melancholy in its deserted
majestic grandeur. His body-seryant
Stephen, was standing at the door, wait
ing for his master.
"What are You doing here, Stephen? =?
Why have you left Orkney?" There was
surprise and anxiety both in the tone.
"Miss Juliet, sir, said the man, in q
choking voice, "she's very i'll, sir. The
doctor says you must lose no time in
coming back to OIkney-if you wish to
see Ter alive"
"Great God in HeavenI' exclaimed
the stricken man. "Am I q rock upon
which is to be heaped the sorrows Of the
whole worldp cannot stand over the
phen, and bury NO."
II wonld rather do it, MASTER" said
the faithful negro. ethan to stand by and
see you lose Miss Juliet"
The sick girl was raving wildly and
calling for her father, when he entered
the room. After he came. she would let
no one else approach her-she would take
her medicine for no ono else-receive her
nourishment from no other hand. He
watched her day and night, scarcely ever
leaving her side, and whenever she missed
him she would cry and moan, like sick
child wailing for it's dead mother. Some
times, when the fever was highest. he
had to hold her down forcibly in bed,
for che was necessarily striving to get on
her knees to him, imploring his forgive
ness and begging him to believe she
never meant to kill her mother. Singu-
Lar to say, in her wild delirium she never
mentioned Karl's name bnt once, and
that was on one occasion when she mis-
took the doctor for him. With gesture
OF horror she motioned him away, crying
loudly:
''Leave mel Leave me, Karl. You
have made me murder my mother. See
the blood on my haud-my mothers
blood"
This idea seemed to have taken entire
possession of her mind. The burden of
her prayer, no matter to whom nd
dressed. whether her father or mother,
or Rudolph, or her aunt, was always the
same. She was Always supplicating them
In tones of anguish to forgive her and to
wash the blood stains from her hand.
After the fever left and life and death
seemed to cease their strong struggle for
impenetrable apathy, thick, rayless
gloom, more hopeless, more touching to
tho bshoider, than her former madness
and rawlings. All energy, mental and
physical, seemed to be paralyzed. She
appeared TO have lost all desire for life,
all interest and pleasure in its pursuits.
SometiInes, for days together, she would
do nothing bnt sit ct the window, looking
ont-noticing nothing, never opening
her lips, save when her father addressed
her. He was her constant companion,
her tender nurse-carrying her about in
his arms, almost rs he had done when
che was n little child; taking pleasure in
bringing her drink of cool water, in
gathering flowers for her. in performing
oil those kindly Offices which her feeble
condition required. So the time dragged
ON, with little perceptible improvement.
The beautiful summer had passed, with
its tender grace, it's soft sweet days, green
leaves and odor-laden air, and the mourn
fnl autumn winds were blowing fitful
dirges over the distant hills. DIR. Rigby
came TO pay his regular daily visit. He
$ook Mr. Clayburn aside, shook his head
ominously and said: