Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1873-10-25

VlSageu man, STANDING Dy tue car, mu
tering to himself in an underton
Better she would die than marry IL
count. He has bewitched her as
does all women. A little slit would
What are you muttering to you
self?' / asked him suddenly; IAN
what do you mean by these mysterio,
words ?' a'''.ai-
He faced me. as if struck by an III
expected blow.
Il was only examining the machir
cry to see that everything was. all rigf
he answered, sullenly, and turne
away.
| carefully examined the cords b
which the car was raised. Everythin
appeared to be secure and in good OF
der; and | went back to my place try
ing to laugh myself out of apprehen
sions. But though it was easy to argu
that all was right and that my fear
arose merely from some inexplicabl
disease of the brain l could not fee
secure. | was positive that som
frightful misadventure would occu
before the play was over; and eyer
nerve was strained in the effort t
maintain calm exterior.
The play progressed. The curtain
rose upon the magnificent transforma
tion scene; and the plaudits of tn,
audience grew tumultuous as the splen
dors rolled before them. At length
the car began to rise slowly and majes
tically to low, sweet strains of music
| watched, with scarcely beating hear
and bated breath, the first appearance,
of the beautiful yision-for like Wis
ion it looked, rising and still rising
the car resplendant with all the tinse
which shone like gold, and silver, anG
diamonds. A sound as of many tink.
ling fountains mingled with the strain.
of delicious music fairy-land seemed
opening upon the sight, with archine
bowers and reaching vistas, and
myriads of elfin forms disporting on
the ground and in the air. For mo.
ment | was fascinated, when Ada and
Dora, in all their beauty, rose above
the lake their stately car seemingly
lifted by invisible hands. / forgot my
apprehensions and once more breathed
freely.
Suddenly there wasa dreadful crash,
and a wild cry filled the house. The
car had fallen. For an instant / felt
rooted to the spot where / was stand
ing, and then recovering my senses,
rushed forward to learn the worst. As
l made my way through the narrow
passage under the stage, | heard some
one say in a plying tone: Poor
thing, she will never dance again?'
Which was it? Ada? Dora? /
fought my way through the crowd of
actors and attendants, and saw my lit
tie Ada lying senseless in Dora's arms
Throwing myself on my knees, l took
her cold hands in both of mine. My
dear friend, " said Dora, who was weep
ing silently, "she is not dead, although
hurt. The surgeon will be
here presently. Compose yourself,
she is reviving.
My little darling opened her eyes
with deep sigh, and looked about her
with a bewildered gaze.
Hush, little one, said Dora, softly,
as she saw Ada was about to speak.
Lie still and be patient till the sur
geon comes"
The gentle sufferer closed her eyes,
and her little hands pressed mine with
a tender grasp. The surgeon was soon
on the spot. He assured me that Ada
had sustained no fatal injury, but it
was doubtful whether she would be
able to walk again. With a piteous
cry, she fell back into Dora's arms,
and tainted away.
| had noticed no one but Ada and
Dora, but at this moment was con-
scious that the count was kneeling be-
side me, and had clasped Dora's hand.
Better she than you, my loye! he
Dora gave him quick look of re-
proof. This is no time for love max
ng," she answered, Withdrawing her
hand. Have you no feeling for the
poor girl lying here, whose whole life
must be one of misery and sorrow?"
What is the ballet girl to me?" an
'wered the count, stung to the quick,
md for a moment thrown off his
guard. "Of course | am sorry for
her." he added the next moment,
but" .-.
At this moment Ada opened her
,yes again, and faint blush struggled
With the paleness in her cheeks, as her
yaze fell upon the count A beautiful
mile played on her trembling lips, and
he reached her hand toward him.
oh, my love, she said, in a low
whisper which sent the
blood mantling into Dora's face, and
hen left it paler than snow-''you are
lear and /" r.. ID
Something in the counts face stop
,ed her words.
1.-The girl is wandering" he said
oddly. ''She does not know what she
S saying"
She had tainted again. go count"
aid Dora, hastily. Your present is
lot wanted here" Her manner was
lecided and even imperious, and the |
ount did not venture to disobey but |
s he left he cast Ada look which |
aught the others eye, and from the
that came into her face L
.new-knew even then, that he would
ever hold place in her heart.
We carried Ada home, and through |
he long illness which followed, Dora
vas her constant nurse and companion.
% this dear friend was confided with |
ears the secret of her heart. The
cunt had won her love, and had in a
moment of deep perfdity promised to
SIX my consent to their union. Un-
and confiding she knew
othing of his attentions to Dora, and
t was by his wish that she had never
mentioned his name to me. heard
fterward that he and Dora met after
he accident, and that he endeavored
0 defend his perfidy on the plea that
le was only amusing Ada, and never
lad serious thoughts of making her
lis wife. 80 much the worse for you
cunt, said the true hearted woman.
| shall never be your wife and would
ather not see you again.
We are married now, Dora and /.
from loving Ada she in time learned
o love me, and the sweet and gentle |
Invalid, who never again will walk |
Intil she steps upon the heavenly shore,
5 happy in our love. No murmur
ver escapes her lips. Her sweet face
) never clouded. Since Dora learned
Ter sad story, the counts name has
Iever passed my sisters lips, nor has
he ever in any way alluded to him.
But Dora found her one day weeping |
ilently over picture which she put
way without its being seen.
| have not told how the accident oc-
urred. The master machinist, him
elf in love with Dora, had cut several
f the cords by which the car was Sc
ured. He openly avoyed his crime,
nd only reoratted that Dora had not 1