The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1877-06-16

Il Am RlAu THIS IL Allred'B last night
he says, significantly, bending close Il
her.
at Is all the same as far as I am con.
cerned," she answered, "for am going Ia
sail for Europe in a few days-Paris-
where oil good Americans 20 when they
die, as somebody brilliantly says. / am
q good American, but l am not dead yet,
wish were."
"Don'tsAy that" he replied, uneasily.
daphne, l am your best friend, and"
"AS you informed me once before, / re.
member, on declining to introduce me to
Mr.. AlfredT
"And l want to advise YOU" he con.
tinued, without needing her interruption.
"For Code sake, don't gaze at tho stage
in that noticeable manner. wish you
could see the expression Of AskWith's
face at this moment. II Is absolutely
mnrderouS. He is good enough fellow,
! know, but this matter Of your affections
Is getting to be mania with him. Not
easily jealous, but being moved, perplex.
ed in the extreme, aud all that, you
know" The concluded, looking very much
ashamed Of having been betrayed into a
quotation.
~ can scarcely imagine Frank standing
over me with lowering brows, grasping a
pillow, and counEelling me to say my
prayers with expedition" she says,
laughing grimly.
Then they both relapse into \ silence,
which Is unbroken until the curtain
rises on the vault which encloSes the an.
cestsal bones Of the CapuleLs. Miss Cap.
ulet, "the solitary scion left Of time
honored race" Is gracefully reposing in
her death.like slumber.
ga pretty woman, and not q bad &C.
tresS," thinks Daphne, with a pang. And
she vaguely wishes that Romeo's part
were less sen timental) Paris is slain,
and Romeo kneels by bis sleeping love.
nComc, bitter conduct, come. unRvory guide
| Thou desperate pilot, now, al once, run on
The dAIhlng rocks, thy Sei-HlCk, weary bark
Here's 10 my love! ., true ApolheCIfy,
Thy drugs arc quick Thus, with kisS, de-"
But how is It that the poison white lips
do not seek 10 seal with righteous
kiss" those Of Juliet? He does not sink
at her side to let his head droop over her
breast, and his last breath escape with the
signing lutter which has hitherto been
SO effective in moving sensitive ladies to
tears. Instead, he raises himself, leaning
on one hand, and lifts his head towards
Daphnes box. Their eyes meet. He
stretches out his arms. His tragic face is
whittier now than the viole.s on her
bosom. And the short rings Of golden
hair that lie above it are damp. The
audience sees nothing very remarkable in
this slight change in the order OF things.
But one Of the actors conceiyes that
something is wrong, and signals for the
curtain TO fall. Daphne waits not for
this. She feels that the supreme hour has
come, and, breaking from the OBTAINING
hands Of Thorpe and her husband, she
pushes through the door Of the box, down
a flight Of narrow steps, and stumbles
blindly along dark passages, ill she
finds herself on the dimly.lighted stage,
where her lover lies dying. The kind
curtain has shut this scene from the dis
appointed audience. lie is quite still,
but she can see, dimly, that he breathes.
She falls on her knees at his side, quite
regardless Of the helpless, sympathizing
group, around. She bends her head 10
his, and whispers-"Arthur-my love,
l am here" She is 80 very near him,
and now, she cares nothing at all for the
whole world; and yet he cannot raise his
arms to draw her to him-cannot speak,
that her dear name may be the last he
syllables on earth. But hiseyes-always
very eloquent, she has thought-are open
wide, and, responding 10 the mute Ian.
guage Of their last appeal, her warm, red
lips meet his, and cling there but brief
moment. But, when they are parted,
she knows that his soul has passed "the
doors OF DEATH"
Thorpe and her husband are beside
her now. Askwith is no longer Jealous,
for be sees that the shapely head, whose
blond beauty has cost him many a pang,
lies now quite passive on Daphnes arm,
and the hand that once has been wont 10
clasp hers with such thrilling pressure
isnow cold TO her touch. Frank touches
her shoulder, and gently tries to raise her
up.
"Poor little girl" he says, with vague,
rough pity. "It's all over now, you
know; come away"
She does not heed at all, but bends low
er, trying to catch some last, Heeting
CLEAN Of life and love in the eyes already
glazed and expressionless.
"Mrs. Askwith," says Thorpe, hoping,
by reminding her Of the name she bears,
to recall her to her forgotten allegiance;
'our poor friend isis gone now, and
you must leave this place"
He ia right, for she, responding to this
appeal, gently puts away the head
that lies 80 heavily against her,
and staggering to her feet, takes her
friends arm, and resolutely walks away,
only turning once, to let her eyes rest for
the last time on the prone, stifTening fig
ure she is leaving forever.
And thus ends Daphne'S youth.
''They have buried her true lover,
With the grass above his head"
Why can not tell Of life, devoted,
thenceforth to good works? OF faith
made perfect through suiIering-a hand
given 10 help abandoned sinners to the
Gross, or holding that blessed Symbol be.
fore closing eyes? Alas l am not writ.
ing Of a woman clothed in the garb Of n
sanity misunderstanding messages Of
hope and peace to the dying, or yet more
wretChed living. Ny poor friends brows
will never be Swallowed by that black
veil which betokens an existence given to
the Lord. Neither will she be crowned
with the glory Of honorable gray hairs
1t will not DO long, we think, before we
can say Of her:
"Thank heaven, the crlAIs,
The danger, Is past.
And the lingering illness
ID over, at last =
And the fever, called Loving
Il conquered at last"
And when wo look and see how chang.
cd is the face, once so pretty, 80 thought.
less, so utterly happy, we feel that it will
be better with her, when 1t is hidden away
from us and we murmur-
',Noihlng
| Can touch hOr iurther.h