Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1873-10-22

hIHiuio was Jul Ouiy CulIu, ANU GHe
fondest love Of our hearts trained
about her. During an autumn's wan
derlng on the continent we met Baron
Wolsteln-gay young, handsome, and
knowing well how best to vile away
woman's heart he won our Emmie's
love. And we who loved her better
than we loved ourselves, gave her up,
although we knew that in the very act,
we tore down our life's Joy with our
own hands. Well, her lover was of
good birth, rich, of excellent reputa-
ton, and as devoted to Emmie as sh
was to him. And for her sake, we
plucked our own, sweet English rose
from the parent stem, and Wolfstein
bore her off in triumph to his chateau
in the Black Forest The world called
hers a brilliant parti; but there
was no brilliancy left for the mother
and me. Without her, house and hearts
were dark and chill. The events of our
days were her letters-at first they
were all sunshine and full of her hus-
bands praises. After a while wefanc1ed
they dropped little in their CHEEKY
tone, her husbands name was more
rarely mentioned, and at last he was
quite ignored. Time after time it was
arranged that she should come to us,
and time after time the visit was de-
layed on some paltry excuse. We had
not seen the face of our darling for a
year. We could bear the separation no
longer. We should go to her. When
SO far as Berlin, my wife was seized
violently i'll. I wrote to Wolfstein and
Emmie of our distress-no response
came to my cry for succor.
On the morning of the Dist of Janu-
airy bent over my wife to moisten her
fevered lips with little wine. Ed
ward" she said, taking my hand in
hers, "Emmie was with me in the
night" Darling, you were dreaming"
I said soothingly. :" Tt was no dream,
husband she stood where you stand
now. Her dress was Of black velvet,
with lace about the throat and wrists.
She looked sad, and oh SO cold, and
down one cheek there was horrid
mark. Mother, she said, you have
no portrait, not even photograph, to
remind you of poor Emmie. l shall
send you one' And before [ could
speak, or lay my hands in hers, she
was gone"
From her rapid pulse [ knew fever
was working in her veins, and fearing
this was the raving of delirium, sooth
ed her as best / could. Just then a
servant entered the room she held
that in her hand we had cause to dread
"a telegram. tore it open, and as my
eye learned it's contents, groan burst
rom my lips. "Emmie is dead" said
my wife, quietly. CT knew it dear"
1t was even so.
This blow rapidly extinguished the
Pickering life Of the mother, and she,
too, quickly followed Emmie After
this sad event, [ arranged to go to
Wolfstein's chateau. He had taken no
notice of my various letters, but con-
cluded that, stunned by grief, the poor
fellow was unable to attend to his or
binary duties of life. In this fellowship
of sorrow, together we should mingle
our tears.
On my way to the railway station, I
encountered Susan, Emmie's faithful
maid, who had been with her young
mistress before and since her marriage.
The girl was weary and worn with
fatigue, and her once bright English
face was white and scared She
stretched her hands toward me. MIR.
st. John! Mr.. st. John - then she
fell down in a swoom. [ had her con-
veyed to my rooms, and after adm1nis-
terlng restoratives, she recovered and
in a few terrible words she told me Of
my child.
For two or three months after mar
r1age all was sunshine, then the tickle
nature of the baron began to assert it.
self, and he became very devil of
caHseless jealousy and malice. Every
letter Emmie wrote was read before it
left the chateau She was debarred
from going into society-she was peri
mitted to see no one save in the pres
ence of her husband, who watched her
as tiger watches It's prey. Then he
took to drinking and playing heavily;
but she, hoping to win him back to
her, still comprised him round with
sweet observances, and by her gentle
goodness strove hard to exercise the
demon that possessed his heart. But
it was no use. And then she told him
how one night Emmie's husband re-
turned from boar hunt, and she ran
to meet him in the hall, when he, in
LII VI luIy3 USlOIO SCI Willis duu
stranger guests, raised his RIDING
switch and cut her across the face-the
cowardly hound, and from that hour
she never raised her head, but, under
the cruel ind1gnity, she slowly dropped.
On the night she died she moaned
with pain that she should not see her
father Or mother again, and they had
no picture even to remember her by.
But they shall have one-they shall
nave one, and thus saying she died.
When the master of the chateau was
her deal, remorse burned into his
soul and drove him mad, and he was
now a raving maniac. And at last
Susan escaped from the chateau to tell
the secrets of his prison house. AS Mr..
st. John rapidly sketched these tragic
outlines, great drops Of anguish stood
on his forehead, and when [ babe him
farewell, his hand was as cold as death.
In the din and confusion of this great
shouting world I lost sight of my
friend, and same years after our rem
contre in Berlin was panied to read
an intimation of his death in The
Times. Shortly after this melancholy
announcement, letter from the solici-
tors of the deceased Mr.. st. John in