The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1877-01-26

flashed upon me in one brief minute;
but in that minute I lived an age. 1t
made my hair gray with the anguish it
condensed into itself. had forced the
soul of the woman l loved to leave its
home, in obedience to my more power
full will, and it could never re-enter the
shape that had held it; and henceforth it
must wander, like an outcast, through
the length and breadth Of the land; an
outcast and yet my slave, for at the
lightest effort of my will l can summon
the wandering soul of my Leonore to me,
even from the uttermost parts of the
earth. But ! do net allow myself to do
that, for you can easily understand what
awful torture, what agony of remorse,
and unavailing repentance, when 1t is
here with me.
81 fell powerless upon the floor when
l realized what a terrible thing ! had
done, and for hours l knew nothing
But when / woke to consciousness, the
soul of Leonore was near me. / could
feel it, and I could talk with it in the
wordless language by which soul holds
conversation with soul.
"Days, and weeks, and months and
years went by. 1 told people what had
done. Told them that in trying to work
out my revenge, l had brought a terrible
curse upon myself, for the pang ofknow-
ing that I had doomed my Leonore's
soul to lifetime of wandering was a
curse heavier than any man ever bore
before. But they would not believe me,
and brought me here. Often Leonore's
soul went back to the form which had
held 1t, and tried to enter its old home.
1t was probably at such times, when it
lowered about the form you knew as
Leonore, that the transient CLEANS of
intelligence you speak of lighted up her
face. You thought il was an Indication
of a shadowed mind which CROPPED
blindly toward the light at times. It was
the soul trying to get back into its shell
instead. Finding how useless the at
tempt was, though repeated a thousand
times. it would come back to me, and
then the Leonore you saw was like a
dead thing, endowed with breath and
motion.
"You do not know what.I suffer. You
can not imagine it in the faintest degree
If I could bear it all myself, it would
not seem SO hard; but to know what she
has to endure, through my sin, and that
only at my death can she be set free
from her slavery to my accursed will
the thought is hell itselfl They tell
of the tortures of the damnedl ] know
what that means, but no other living
person does, unless there are others with
sins like mine. / would willingly give
its freedom to Leonore's soul, but ]
can't die. I am never ill. l shall live
for years and years yet. And every day
shall hear her soul crying out to
mine, 'Oh Allyn!sI am so weary! How
long will it be before my wandering is
done" Every time hear it, pray te
die, but my prayer is never heard
Hark! it is coming now! knew it would
come soon. 1t is here!-close to me
Don't you. hear it?"
A strange, awful silence that was like
no other silence / ever knew, filled the
room. The old man listened, with the
haunted look in his eyes. / hardly
dared breathe. I seemed to feel an in
visible presence near eme. Ny sou
listened for the voice of poor Leonore'
soul.
"There! do you hear it crying out t
me and asking if the rest so long denie,
is euer coming? Oh my Leonorel m
poor, poor darling! If I could only di
for you and thus expiate my sins!' an
the old mans face fell upon his hands
and I knew that he was suffering a
: agony whose intensity never dreame
: of.
D. l could have sworn that ! heard
. low, mournful voice wall through tn
. room, like the faintest, saddest mine
notes of a wind-harp, and it said, 80
{ Allyn! I am SO weary! go weary"
e might have been the wind, but / tb in
u not. I believe that Leonore's soul W,
2! there with us.