Iowa voter. [volume] (Knoxville, Iowa) 1867-1874, 1873-10-09

said, taking my hand in hers, "Emnie was
with me in the night" Darling, you
were dreaming" said, soothingly.
at 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 a
horrid mark Mother she said, you
have no portrait, not even photograph,
to remind you of poor Emmie. ! shall
send you one' And before l could speak,
or lay my hands on hers, she was gone"
From her rapid pulse l knew fever was
working in her veins, and, fearing this
was the raving of delirium, l soothed her
as best could. Just then servant en-
tered the room; she held in her hand that
which we had cause to dread-a telegram.
l tore it open; and, as my eye learned its
contents, groan burst from my lips.
"Emmie is dead" said my wife, quietly.
II knew it DEAR 1t was even so.
This blow rapidly extinguishcd the
Pickering life Of the mother, and she, too,
quickly followed Emmie. After this sad
event l arranged to go to Wolfstein' s
chateau. He had taken no notice of my
various letters; but concluded that,
stunned by grief the poor fellow was un-
able to attend to his ordinary duties of
life. In this fellowship of sorrow, togeth-
er we should mingle our tears.
On my way to the railway station | en-
countered 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 towards
me. "Mr. st. John, Mr.. st. Johnr' then
she fell down in swoon. / had her con-
veyed to my room, and after administer
ing restoratives she recovered, and in a
few terrible words she told me of my
child.
For two or three months after marriage
all was sunshine; then the tickle nature
of the Baron began to assert herself, and
he became a very devil of causeless jeal-
ousy and malice. Every letter Emmie
wrote was read before it left the chateau.
She was debarred from going into society
she was permitted to see no one save
in the presence of her husband, who
watched her as a tiger watches his 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 dem
on that possessed his heart But it was
| no use. And then she told me how one
night Emmie's husband returned from q
boar hunt, and she ran to meet him in the
ball, when he, in a fit of druken fury, be-
fore servants and stranger guests, raised
his riding-switch and cut her across the
face-the cowardly Homeland from that
hour she never raised her head, but under
the cruel indignity she slowly dropped.
On the night she died she moaned with
pain that she should not see father or
mother again, and they had no picture
even to remember her by. But they shall
have one-they shall have one, and, thus
saying, she died.
When the master of the chateau saw
her dead, remoIse burned into his soul
and drove him mad, and he was now a
| raving maniac. And at last Susan es-
capped 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 lost sight of my
friend, and some years after our reconire
at Berlin was panied to read an intima-
ton of his death in the Times. Shortly
after this melancholy announcement a
letter from the solicitors of the deceased
Mr. st. John informed me that he had be-
queathed me full-length portrait of his
only daughter
And this is the story of the picture of
the lady with the pale, sad face, that
hangs in my library. But sometimes l
think only dreamt the tragic tale
English Magazine.