The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1878-03-13

brow and cheeks of the sweet face resting so
trustfully on his breast.
And now the storm has died away, and
the sexton is coming in TO light the candles
So the pastor went TO his pulpit and Mirah
to her place in the choir. / am afraid that
Arthur Grey and Mirah Hqeston thought
more about each other than they did of
either their written or musical notes that
evening.
wish that l could leave them there, in
| that little country church, both so happy
and satisfied. If this sketch were not in the
main true one l would stop here. My pen
| is an odd affair. II does not love to trace
| any thing sad. So it will be apt to hurry
| over the rest of this.
Arthur Grey was called to the city. Took
charge of large church there. Left his
| betrothed teaching in Bear Creek district,
expecting to claim her as soon as his pecu-
MARY affairs would let him. Yet within a
year he was promised in marriage to a very
plain daughter of very wealthy church
member.
1 don't know whether you will think him
greater or less villain if l state that Arthur
Grey still loved Mirah, and that il was no
little sacrifice on his part to give her up.
| But this brilliant chance to rise by this mar
| riage had presented itself, and the tempta-
| ton proved a greater one than he could
| Withstand. Mirah would forgive him, he
knew, and forget him, he hoped. AT any
Il
over with. He would then comfort her by
/ telling her that, though his little violet
| could not be transplanted to his city home,
yet she should blossom in his heart forever.
So the wedding day came. They were to
be married at the brides home in the even.
| ing. On entering the room where the rite
was to be performed Arthur Grey recognized,
among the guests; Mirah HuestOn. She was
| tle brides cousin and had arrived that day
/ to be present at the ceremony. She had
| learned on her arrival who the groom was to
| be. Poor Mirah took in the situation; she
did not rave, or storm, or faint. Pride
! helped her to keep her senses; but she deter
mined to stay till it was over, and then
God alone knew what she should do, for
| Mirah did not.
At sight of her dear face with its helpless
| look of agony Arthur Grey's heart went out
to her. He hoped she would make a scene.
| stop the ceremony, anything to save him
| from the fate be had chosen for himself.
MIrah acted the marble statue, and so Ar
| thur Grey promised to love the woman at
his side till death did them part
| He looked at her again when it was all
| over, noted the fierce, white face and the
| teeth biting through the under lip, then
/ turned away.
| All Mirah's warm young blood seemed
| turning to ice as she crept to her room few
| minutes later. She sent word to her hostess
| that she was not well-to excuse her. please.
| The guests were gone at last and the house
was quiet. Half way between midnight and
morning, just when the night is coolest,
| most dismal, most silent, Arthur Grey heard
| footsteps approaching the door of his room.
| He knew they were Mirah's, and his whole
! soul went out to the little figure that he
knew stood outside. Toward morning he
| fell in troubled sleep and was awakened
soon after by shrek from a servant in the
hall. He opened the door and saw the cause
of it.
Locked in deaths last sleep, white as the
snow drifts outside the blue eyes closed, the
sweet lips sllenced, the aching heart at rest,
| lay Mirah just outside the bridal chamber.
She had taken her draught and gone there,
| as close as she could get to her darling-to
| die.
There was a letter on her dressing table
addressed to Arthur Gray" and this is
what she had written to him:
ARTHUR-I am writing TO say "good BY"
can not go until do this. Oh, my darling
my darling! how have loved you.
Oh, God! is this thing true? Will | never,
never be clasped in your arms again? Never
you whisper again, "Mirah, little wife,
| love you?" Has all that passed forever? Yes,
yes, yes; forever and ever and everi
Arthur, If you had only come to me once
| lieve could have borne it. AS it is can get
rid of this heartache only in suicides future.
And now once more a last '.good by" too,
~
Kiss me once more when j am gone. Arthur,
you will not refuse me this, for shall be dead
| for your dear sake. Good by, good by, forever.
MIRAH.
Arthur Grey had been fortunate enough
| to find this letter himself. So no one else
knew why the poor girl had destroyed her
| SELF and the pastor had no unpleasant
| explanations to meke to his wife and flock.
| He went down alone a few hours afterward,
| where all that remained of Mirah lay.
In her coffin, arrayed for burial, Mirah
| looked even more beautiful than in life.
Her repentant lover was agonized at the
| sight. He had not even the privilege of
mourning over the wreck he had made.
Stealthily he kissed the cold lips that tor
the first time would not give back the pres
| sure of his. Again and again he called her
| by the dear. pet names of Olden times, and
| left the room and house at last, SO thor
oughly wretched that, culpable as he was,
one could not but pity him. They buried
her In the grave yard of the little country
| church where Arthur Gray had asked her
| to be his wife. He read the burial service
with face as pallid as the one lying at his
feet; saw the grave filed up, and walked
away overt fields more miserable than he
had ever been in his life. He returned to
his wife and his pulpit.
IL he can derive any pleasure from the
| position he holds, let him retain it; for the
| torments of remorseless conscience will
/ prove punishment enough for "a Minister
| WOoing" where he could not wed.
At school I'm Russia.
Every city In the Russian empire has its