Daily Kennebec journal., 1875-11-06
fcnnclnded from first raee.l

could hardly sec how he and Marion were
10 live. unless he could make pracuce
somewhere among the English abroad
and Lis taking me also was not to be
thought of. ] was to live for the present
with my married sister. 1t was very sore
to part with Stephen, with whom | had
lived almost all my life; 1t was sorer sun
to part with Marion, who had been more
than sister to me ever since saw ner.
Stephen and / were nearly overcome WIN
emotion; but she was calm and siient'
with an intent. wistful look about her love-
lv face that has haunted me all my lie
since. I can see it now when smut my
eyes, though it is fifty years ago. Neeo
saw that never saw her again
Iwent to my sisters house, and began
the fashionable life used to wish Tor. II
was not all that pictured 1t, though 1t
was pleasant enough to occupy me IN the
dav lime; but at night longed sadly for
my darlings.
Stephen wrote letters full OF hope. and
talked of returning, after spending two
years in Italy. Marion, too, wrote favor
ably of herself, and my anxiety began to
lessen. There was another reason for this
at the same time-my late husband, the
v
was at that time beginning to pay his ad
dresses to me; and the tender troubles OF
my own case made Inc careless OF others.
Summer came round again; and one day.
as / was half wishing for my country
home again. letter arrived from Stephen.
Mariop's complaint was at crisis, and
great change would take place, one way
or the other, in few days. | was to go
81, ,,1.cn i'm, nrHpr and he ready
to receive them. | did not know till af-
terward that Marion had begged to be
allowed to die at home. if the change was
for the worse; if it had been ion the bet
ter, there would have been no reason for
her staying abroad.
Well, l went home. arranged every
thing, and waited for them. Three weeks
passed and no letter; month. and sup,
posed they were travelling slowly to avoid
fatigue. On the day five weeks after
had received the last letter; was sitting
alone, rather late in the evening, when
quick step sounded In the road outside,
and Stephen came to the gate, opened 1t.
entered the house aud sat down in silence.
He was dressed as usual, and looked tired
and travel-stained; but there was no sor'
row in his face, and felt sure that Marion
was safe. / asked him where she was.
He said she was not with him.
Have you left her in Italy ?" asked.
"She IS dead" he answered, without a
shadow of emotion.
How? Where ?'' l was beginning to
question him, but he stopped me-, :.
"Giye me something to eat and drink,
he said II have walked from London,
and want to sleep
brought him what he wanted. lie
bade me good night; and as / saw he
wished it, | left him and went to bed, full
of grief, but even more of wonder, that
he, who truly loved his wife if ever man
did, could speak of her not month after
her death, without his voice faltering or
his face changing in the least.
Tomorrow will solve the question, ="
said TO myself, as, weary with crying, l
felt sleep coming over me. But to-mor-
row did not solve the question. He told
me, as before, without emotion, what he
wished me to know, and from that mo-
ment we spoke no more on the subject.
In every respect but this he was my own
Stephen of old-as kind and thoughtful as
ever, only altered by rather absent and
distracted manner.
l thought at first that he was stunned
by his loss, and would realize it more
painfully afterward; but months passed
on without change. He used Marion's
chair, or things of her work. or sat oppo-
site to her drawings without seeming to
notice them; indeed, it was as if she had
dropped out of his life entirely, and left
him as he was before he knew her. The
only difference was that he, naturally a
man of sedentary habits, took great deal
of exercise, and knew that he kept laud-
anum in his bedroom.
At this time my lover was pressing me
10 marry him, and with much difficulty |
consented to tell Stephen about it, though
had no intention of leaving him. To my
surprise he seemed pleased. told him
that / would never leave him alone. not
for all the husbands in the world; but he
would not hear me.
II think it is your duty to marry him,
Margaret, he said; you love him and
have taught him to love you, and you
have no right to sacrifice him to me.
my first duty is to you, Stephen. |
will not leave you alone.'
IL see that must explain to yOu," he
said, after pause. "When you leave me.
| shall not be alone"
'.Who will be with you?" asked. won
deringly.
Marion"
Il started as if had been shot, for
thought he must surely be mad; but he
continued, quite calmly and as usual,
without emotion.
..She died at midday Till night did
not know what did. felt stunned and
broken and dying myself but at last,
worn out as was with watching and sit
ting mp, fell asleep; and by Gods mer-
cy she came TO me in my dreams, and
told me TO be comforted. The next night
she came again. and from that time to
this has never failed me. Then felt it
was my duty to live; that if my life was
yalueless to myself, it was not so to you.
SO l came home. dare say it is only
freak of my Imagination. Perhaps even
produce an illusion by an effort of my
will; but however that is, it has saved me
from growing mad or killing myself
How does she come? Always as she was
in that first summer that we spent here.
or in our early time in Italy; always
cheerful and beautiful, always dressed as
she used TO dress, talking as she used to
taik-not an angel, but herself. Some
times we 90 through whole day of pleas-