The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1876-08-02

(coNcLUDED.)
During the day, fearful report reached
us, Erie Brannon had committed suicide
1t was supposed he intended to leap into the
river, but missing it, his remains were found
on sharp point of rock, near the edge of the
water. Soon, gossip linked the cause with
Evelyn Claire, and tho tongues that had so
long ached with jealousy, seized upon this OPP
portunity to vent their spleen, and all agreed
in pronouncing her perfectly heartless."
That evening as went into the Library,
observed Evelyn sitting by a distant window,
for the first time apparently lost in thought.
Had she heard of Erle's death ?
Reoollecting that Mrs. C1eve and Torrance
were absent in the city, and thinking, per-
haps she at least was lonely, approached her.
She lifted her face-a face over which the
shadow of death seemed already to have set
tied, so wan and white it had beconie in the
last few hours. Her lips attempted to frame
q question, but the sound died upon them.
Erie is dead, . said, guessing the mute
inquiry.
"And you blame me, | see you do Sit
down here, l have something to tell you," she
answered.
took the proffered seat The moon shone
without SO like the night when first saw that
sweet face to know it and / 6ould almost
hear she "Alpine Farewell . floating through
the room. How changed the scene. Her low
musical voice, she went ON as though think
ing aloud sThree years ago l was happy
careless girl, dwelling with my mother on the
banks of the Susquehanna. Oh | how loved
the breezy hills and clear winding river, where
in childhood had played with Paul Leicest-
Or and it was his companionship that trans
formed them into almost fairy-and. How
vividly can recall the village, nestled in a
carve of the winding shore, sheltered by the
hills, and lulled to repose by the murmuring,
rushing river its clustering cottages, most of
them white, peeping from among green foli-
age, and the tapering spire of the church, with
its evening bells calling to prayer. Paul was
the leading spirit in that church. He played
the organ, and led the choir with his rich me-
lodious voice, he superintendent the Sabbath
School, his prayers were the most heartfelt
in the weekly meetings. and --. 1t was
happiness enough for me to sit in some OBJ
scure corner and lister, and watch him as he
moved among them, honored and beloved by
them all and when we sat together in the
moonlight by the river, and he told me that
he had loved me ever since we first played to-
getner there, thought the world was a para
disc, and that heaven could afford no greater
joy.
Fer g year lived in the enclouded light of
his love we were to he MARIE in the Spring
Paul said it was a more fitting time to start in
life than in Autumn, the time so many chose
for their bridal. In the meantime, there NOV
ed into the village family by the name Of
st. Joyce. They were very wealthy. They
built beautiful villa overlooking the river,
and surrounded it with grounds, bewildering
IN loveliness. There We're terraces and fount-
aims, and walks winding off into fairy hooks,
aid two paviiions paved with marble and a.
dorned with crimson curtains. They attend
ed the services of the church, and it was not
long before l observed the dark eyes of Mari
on st. Joyce, following Paul with undisguised
admiration, and after time | began to be
dimly conscious that those glances were re-
turned, and dreary feeling crept into my
heart. Still he was the same to me, never did
he intimate that was less to him than form
erly and | trusted him never doubling that
one SO good could be aught but true
So the time went on until one evening
about month before We were to be married,
l was so happy that evening as sat Watching
for him. Twilight faded, and the moon came
up in solemn beauty. I waited, absorbed in
happy thought, Unconscious of how the hours
had drifted by, until the clock struck twelve.
It sounded like knell, and as the last stroke
died away on the still air, chill crept over
my heart, and something seemed to 60 out of
my life. had read somewhere that I" hearts
oft die bitter deaths before the breath is
breathed away" think mine died that night
oh if / had died too"
She sat for time in silence. did not in
terrupt it. The pale sweet face was SO full of
anguish The white lips seemed trying to
form prayer for strength.
" The next morning when entered the
church heard the low melodious peal of the
organ. It sounded in the stiffness like sweet
benediction. / knew it was PauPs fingers
that awoke the strain, for no one ever played
like him. BY and by when the church was
filed, and the service commenced, there
seemed something triumphant in the tones,
as they echoed through the low arches Of the
ceiling, but all the while that chill was around
my heart, and to me it sounded more like a
requiem than an anthem. AS passed out
after the service, glanced up at the choir,