The weekly herald. [volume] (Cleveland, Tenn.) 1876-1888, 1878-03-14

NO dHshSI SAiliihb Va NhNSN hP~
no lifting of those heavy lids with
death for cOin-weights!
A tear fell upon the marble brow of
the dead; the DOCTORS hand fell caress-
inglv upon the damp locks.
"Poor boy !" he murmured.
But there came time when the sad
beauty of that face was hid away 10
await the awful change already COM
menced; when the smile seemed like a
sneer wherewith the dead mock their
own decay, and Edgar Percy was for
gotten by all save one.
He had no clue as yet. Percy had
been for two years resident Of the
place, had been successful as an artist,
but had no relations that any one knew.
1t was known that he came from the
country, that was ALL Who were his
friends no one could tell. 1t seemed
he had none save those he had made in
town. He was not in debt. He left
behind him enough topay the expenses
of his funeral. Among his effects, or
derby and commonplace, there was not
a sign Of mystery, nor scrap of writ
ing, not even an unfinished sketch to
point clue. One thing the Doctor felt
sure of. Edgar Percy, mentally or
physically, was the personation of his
own mystery. His death destroyed its
power, put an end to its threatenings,
swallowed it up in internal oblivion. 1t
might be guilt-it might be misfortune
lit might be fate. Whatever it was,
it concerned the dead man alone. 1t
lay between him and the world. God
might pardon and overlook it if it were
sin; but the world, he knew never
would.
But was it sin The world, we know,
forgives that easily enough when it is
sanctifed by success, and beyond the
reach of the law. If it was something
that the world could not forgive, what
could it have been?
1t must not, however be supposed
that DR.. Winter thought of nothing
else than Edgar Percy's suicide. Very
seldom is man faithful to memory
and having his hands upon the good
things of this life, Winter believed in
enjoying them, and after puzzling his
brain on hundred possible solution to
the riddle, he gave it up; so that when
Edgar Percy had been dead for year,
the thing was precisely where it was
when first he read the suicides letter.
Another year dimmed the memory of
the tragedy; the third effaced it tentirely
from his mind, to return only by fits
and starts.
1t was during the close of the third
year that DR.. Winter made the aquain-
tance of young surgeon belonging to
one of the principal hospitals. Young
William Dunning took great fancy
for the middle-aged, jolly practitioner,
penchant reciprocated by the Doctor
and when off duty the two were always
together.
One day DR.. Winter accompanied
Dunning to the hospital, and went the
rounds with him. There were many
sad sights there, means of pain, and
thin, pallid faces on which Deaths sig
net was plainly stamped.
Dunning stopped at one of the pal
lets, on which was stretched the slender
form Of man yet in his early youth,
whose pale, regular features and dusky
eyes sent thrill of remembrance
through DR.. Winters soul. Where
had he seen that face?
"Who is he?" was the question that
rose to his lips.
"It is hard to tell who he is, !" replied
Dunning. "He was found wandering
in the street, wild with delirium. He
had been robbed, it seemed, and turned
out of a sick bed by some treacherOus
flend, doubtless hoping that he would
perish in the street. Poor creature !
His hour is near at hand!"
"Is he consciousg"
"IIe has not been hitherto; but /
think he will recover his reason before
he dies. All there is sanity in his eyes
even now. Speak to him, Doctor"
"My good man." said Winter, "do
you see meG"
"Dr. Winter!" uttered the feeble
voice,
"You know me !" he cried, with as
constituent. "Who are your"
A feeble smile curled his thin lips.
"If you will sit beside me, have a
long story to tell you. Yet, no, it shall
not be long"
The sick man stretched his hand for
a cordial. 1t was given him, and again
the dusky eyes were turned upon Win
ter's face, and the low voice began;
give years ago, met you first. For
two yoars you were my friend. i died,
bequeathing you strange task. For
three years | was dead to you and all
the world"
"You then, are Edgar PercyP"
"What is left of him"
"You were not dead thenp In what
manner were you rescued from the
gravcH"
''No, | was not dead" he said. "Dy-
ing has been my profession. | have
lived upon the proceeds of my deaths
at various times; but am not dead
yet !"
10 say that DR.. Winter was aston
ished would but feebly express the state
of the good mans mind, while Dunning
watched the two with distended eyes.
"But what" demanded the doctor,