Litchfield enquirer., 1874-07-30

not turn toward him. He took her hand. It lay in his fingers limp and motionless. 1t reminded me of man trying to fan a long extinguished fire into life.. Would 1t burn again? or had 1t ever been more than dull spark there?
 William Meade cleared his throat and spoke. He had a peculiarly thin, clear voice. "From what my brother tells me, I infer that you are the person whom have heard of as Spiridion. What is it you wish Miss Nuttall to do? To marry you? To go about from town to town where you act as your wife? To become the companion of your companions?' Now this appeared to me a very clear, common-sense question. But at tho mo- ment the idea of Miss Nuttall as Signora SpiridiOn struck even me as supremely ridiculous. I saw smile pass over Charles Meade's shrewd little face. The Italian turned puzzled, astonished face from one to the other.
 'How can I say what wish? I only thought l loved her-shc has loved me. Love is eternal. Should we not marry?" | confess, something tragic in the absurd unlikeness of these two people, who had certainly once loved each other.
 Spiridion held his hand to his head as though he had caught an idea "Ah! er- member that you will, no doubt, consider my profession wicked. So! Let it gop' with a wave of his hand, as polite dismissal of the conscientious side of the question. ''You arc right, quite right. Bessy, will you not speak to me?" He stepped for ward md took her hand as if to raise it to his lips, when William Meade interposed :.
 ''Stopr' he cried. ''No liberty in that quarterj I respect and esteem that lady,"
 ''Sir," said tho Italian softly, 'I love her."
 She drew away from him. sI don't know whether you did right or wrong," she cried, holding her head like hurt child, and then suddenly smoothing her roughened hair. ''I know that I loved you. And suffered-oh, sufferedr'
 I had been very mnch in love with Bes- sy, but always observed that 1t was on- ly her own sufferings and joys of which she kept account.
 Splridion's face glowed. She loved him still! He paused for one instant, and then he turned his back on her. "f should but make her suffer more"-in an- swer to some unspoken longing. With out another word he was gone It seem- cd to me that the man, for miserable monntcbank, had Q self-control which might have been in other circumstances manly.
 My story ends, as few love stories in real life do, with a duo regard to the eter- nal fitness and proprieties- es-dramatically, too, though I fear am not an expert at writing down 0 drama.
 Two days afterward I went on board the train for the west, and almost the first person met was Charles Meade.
 William is here, /" he remarked. 'And Miss Nuttall, going home"
 They are betrothed, presume?''
 Well, no; though they will be-they will be, undoubtedly. William is leisure ily; he moves more slowly in such matters than did, that's fact.''
 paid my respects to Miss NuttalI pres entity Ill the drawing-room car. She was calm, and thin, and neatly dressed as ever. and seemed to be pleasantly occu- pied with scraping lint. 'It is of great use ln the hospitals, she said; land light
 
 In another car | found Spiridion and his suite. Among them was an old and very heavy man, who slept and snored in- cessantly. '"That," said the interpreter. ''is Spiridion's father; a beastly old fel- low. Yet his son watches him as a wo- man might her baby" Spiridion was smoking tolerably strong cigar; now and then, too, brandy and liquor bottles were passed around. What would love do next? I wondered.
 It was 2 night train, and very soon the sieeplng-cars were placed upon the track. had been asleep for an hour, when I was awakened by jar and crush, and whiz- zlng noise, which l afterward found was caused by the steam rushing through the cars. Of all the horrors of that night. that white, fatal fog, binding us for the moment, was tho worst. The accident was that which occurred near Harrisburg ln November, '67. I have kept no count of the dead and wounded. had a dull impression at the time that the whole world was full of death, and blood. and misery.
 l found the Meades and Miss NuttalI. Like myself, they were stunned, and bruised, and drenched with water. but otherwise uninjured. Further up the road l discovered Spiridion with his fa- ther. He was wiping the mud and soot off the old mans face tenderly, as though he had not been bloated and degraded.
 'All right?" l shouted before came up.
 'Ail right" said the old man; but his voice sounded strangely feeble.
 My father has escaped quite unhurt," said Lou1s, who had been trying his legs and arms to find if they were broken.
 "Yes; only breathed that steam for short time, and It appears to have choked me. have great difficulty in speaking, Louis."
 I drew Louis aside, and told him his father had but two or three minutes to live. l happened shortly before to have had reason to know all about steam and it's effects.
 Poor fellow! I don't want to dwell on that hour that followed. I saw then how he had loved the old man. When came up presently, found ono or two doctors busy with him, while Spiridion, on his knees. was praying in their own language, quite unconscious of the crowd around them. But the old man was even then cold and dead.
 Late the next day was with Spiridion Au 00O A4"l11SOuIS uOI0l, WueEo u0 udu taken the body (for had begun by this time to have a sort of friendship for the poor foreigner), when the door opened and Bessy Nuttall entered. She would have drawn back, but he went up and took her by the hand. He was pale as the corpse before him with grief and pas- sion.
 ''He is dead now," leading her up to the still. stiff thing beneath the sheet. ''He IS dead. There is nothing to part us now. I have given up my life to him. He would be glad to think the recom- pense came-late as 1t is. Come to me. Bessy: I will leave the stage-I will con- form in all things to your wishes"
 One would think a woman would trem. ble and shrink from either a corpse or a lover: But Bessy was as cool and com posed in the presence of both as though she were cutting out garments in the sew ing circle.
 II am very sorry for your loss, Louis. Nothing moro frenunnfIv tbo,, ra;Iroo1 oo