Buchanan County bulletin. [volume] (Independence, Iowa) 1869-1891, 1877-06-08

"You are crushing your dress!-
And if you lean back like that you
will spoil your flowers and veil!''
The bride-clect looked up at the
remonstrance, and gave little wlst-
full smile.
"You can put me to rights to-mor-
row, Maude; am so tired to-day"
and she wearily closed her eyes.
Maude Wymer gazed at her in dis
may and surprise. Then she went
and sat down little way off: A
thousand trltles, light as air at the
time, seemed to her now as confir-
nation strong of doubts regarding
this marriage that had occasionally
arisen in her mind. She was an in
telligent girl, and in few minutes
she had realized Herster's pitiable
position. Hester was going mad at
her fate was the thought that flashed
through her mind as she watched
her sitting or sleeping so strangely
then. Suddenly throng of girls
appeared at the door. They were
Maudc's sistcr-bridesmaids; and af-
ter exchanging a word with her,
they walked toward the window.
chester is asleep" whispered one
of them in astonishment, and the
others moved softly and spoke in
hushed tones as they gathered round
the chair.
"How dreadfully white she looks!"
''She will have more color when
she wakes, perhaps
Then a sort Of curious awe, almost
a dread, crept over them, and they
were silent. Hester was so still.
There was not the slightest flicker
of golden lash; white and rigid as
a marble image, with her pale hands
folded loosely and meekly together,
Hester Kyrle sat before them.
At this moment the maid ap-
preached the panic-struck group.
Surprised at the startled expression
of the different faces, she pressed
hurriedly forward, and, as if with an
instinct of what was to come, she
seized one hand; the touch Of it was
sufficient. The woman tell on her
knees before the motionless figure
that was clad in all the mockery of
bridal array, and she gave piercing
shrek that resounded through the
house, and fell on the ears of the
marriage guests-a shrek which in
the contagious panic of horror was
taken up by each of the assembled
bridesmaids.
The clock chimed eleven loud
strokes, but Mervyn Tyrrcll waited
in vain for his bride to come to him.
Then John Kyrle looked at his daugh-
ter, and he knew that the Heaven
she had invoked to save her from
Mervyn Tyrrell's arms had listened
to her prayers, for Hester Kyrle was
dead.
All the sunshine had gone from
the earth, and the sky was of sombre
gray, with gathering clouds, on the
day that Hester Kyrle was to be car
ried to her last resting-place. Mrs.
Kyrle's grief was SO violent that her
reason seemed likely to give way;
remorse, added to sorrow, was max
ing her burden too heavy to bear,
and the cold, worldly woman gave
way to bursts of passionate despair
that evoked surprise in its hearers.
''But it is no wonder that Mrs.
! Kyrle suffers remorse," Maude Wy
mcr said to her brother, as he took
her to the house for last look at
the friend of her childhood, before
the sweet face should be shut away
from mortal eyes. "NIrs. Kyrle is as
much a murderess as though she had
cut Hester's throat with a knife
Then she rccounted to him all her
ideas on the subject of the marriage,
the prospect of which had killed
Hester.
"Oh, Mark, if you had seen the
angels smile, so sad, SO wistful, and
so meek, that she gave a few minutes
before she died" She paused, her
| voice cnOkcu ny lcdTS.
"And she died of aneurism Of the
hcart?" questioned Mark Wymer.
He was medical student, and so
sudden death excited his interest.
"Of course it was; the doctor said
so. At first they tried restoratives,
fancying it was fit of some sort;
but | knew better. l knew the in
slant l looked at her that Hester was
dead; l knew that she. had reached
peace. She was just as cold and rig
id few moments before she died as
she Is now. l should like you to see
her, Mark; she was so beautiful in
life"
"And she is beautiful in DEATH
was Marks first thought, as his eyes
rested on the dead girl, who, to graf
ify the halfcrazy mothers wish had
hablted herself in her weddng-garb.
Mark had been studying medicine in
the London hospitals, and, like too
many in his profession, he had come
to regard the human body, practical
ly and simply, as curious piece of
mechanism animated by vital princi-
pie. But he could not, somehow,
look at the form before him in the
same cold, abstract manner. lie
could only gaze on it as vision of
beauty, such as he had never looked
on before. There was not the faint
est shade OF deaths livid hue on her
pure, white face; there was neither
sharpening or sinking of the classl-
cal features; there was none of that
peculiar expression around the pretty
lips, and in the fall of the eyelids,
which is the signet that the conquer
er Death sets upon his victims; and
yet it did not look life-like either. In
the face and hands there was mar
BILE rigidness, and the tints were trans
parent like parian.
Hester Kyrle was borne to her
grave, and Mark Wymer returned
home; but when the day had gone
by and dusk was gathering in, he
wended his way to a friends house,
and that friend was surgeon of
high standing in his profession.
"Barkcr, do you know sane man
when you see him?" he asked.
The surgeon opened his eyes in
curpricn