The democrat. [volume] (Weston, W. Va.) 1868-1874, 1871-09-04


bottom of Diapers Drop, horribly battered
and disiigurcd. When the remains were
brought home, the sight of the corpse ol
her darling son was too much for poOr
Lady Geraldine. On bchOljing il she gave
u heartrending shrek, and swOOncd her
reason never returned, and she died calmly
and quietly two months after, having been
raving mad in the interval. Poor Mr..
Soame shortly after left England, and died
somewhere in the south Of Italy.
! returned to London alter poor Char
ley's funeral, an entirely altered man. |
felt that should never be happy again in
this world; nor shall |. Although | was
Il perfectly innocent actor in the terrible
little drama / have described to you, felt
that had been guilty of folly in not being
more frank and candid with Charley con
cerning Miss Peyton. 1t seemed to me
then, and 1t seems now, that the fact of his
lacking candor with me was no excuse for
my own behavior; but Charley has long
since known how innocent was Of any
attempt to supplant him in Miss Peyton's
affections. But you will ask me, what has
become of the lady2 As told you, |
returned to town after the sad events
have narrated, came here, and applied
myself to my profession, striving by en-
ployment to forget, il possible, the shocking
occurrences, the remembrance Of which,
even now, hangs like pail over me. !
had seen Miss Peyton after poor Churley's
funeral, but had not entered into particu.
lars concerning his death; nor, Of course,
had l said anything about myself to her.
She was deeply shocked at her lovers fate,
on learning which event she acknowledged
their attachment.
A year after this saw in the papers an
announcement of Col. PeytOn's dcccasc,
and wrote to Gertrude to condole with
her ON her loss. The sentiment of love
had felt for her never again found express
sion from me. ! could not have married
her; and she, apprehend, felt also that,
out Of respect to poor Charlcy's memory,
we could never be, at most, more than
friends.
was sitting at work one dreary after
noon in November in the year following
my friends death; the lamps had just
been lighted, and was thinking of running
oil to get my dinncr-for ! dined ont then
when Wright, young man at that
time, came in and announceda n lady. Con-
trary to my usual practice, | directed her
to be shown in, whcreupOn tall figure,
arrayed in deep mourning, entered my
room; and on thick vail being raised,
there | beheld the beautiful features Of
Gertrude Peyton, more lovely than ever.
To make the matter short, she had called,
she said, on her way to Paris, to wish me
good-by Tor good; she was going to ulti-
mately take the black yailat the Car1ne-
lite convent there, as Sour Marie My
heart wns full, but offered no remOn.
STRANGE to this step; | said nothing, beyond
expressing hope that she might find hap
piness. "Thcrc is one thing | should like
to communicate to you before you 60,
Miss Peyton,n said | and told her the
truth about poor Charley. "And now you
will tell me something ~ said /. "Tcll
me why you and Charles Soame made
such secret of your engagement ~
hclli bhc laVt Nusi SHV saw "uu
am above such triies now, thank GOd!-
you know my father was poor man ;
consequently had little to give me, and |
had no great expectations, 1t was the
express wish Of Mr.. Soame nay, the dream
of his life, for his son to marry rich
woman Of the highest family, in order that
some day he might rise 10 something
beyond plain Mr.. SOame. This being the
case, ! was clearly not the woman he would
have chosen for his son. | acted very
improperly, Mr.. Molly was anxious
for wealth and position, so accepted poor
Charles Soamc's attention while my heart
was anothcr's." "But," she continued,
"all is past and gone, and it only rcmains
for us to made amends Tor past folly by
present and future good behavior, Fare
well, Mr.. Molyneux; you will sometimes
think of SGur Marie, at the Carmelite
convent in Paris"