The New Orleans daily Democrat. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1877-1880, 1878-12-01
THE NEW ORLEANS DEMOCRAT, SUNDAY, DECEMBER 1873

"And you are sacrificing yourself for him i
for fancy! Hear the truth, Jessie. You
care not for Mr.. StOnor, except as cousin or
a brother. Examine your own heart and it
will tell you that you do not. You care for
me. You love me. Many a half word, half
look, has betrayed it to me. Yes, my darling,
it Is Robert Edbury you have learned to love,
not Robert Stonor Your bushes, my love,
are betraying it now. You -
"What was that" shrieked Jessie.
| A low, smothered sound, half groan, half
cry, had come in from the open window. 1t
was so full OF pain that man would not care
to hear 1t twice in a lifetime. Before either
| could rush out Robert StOnor stood in the
opening.
1t was figure never to be forgotten. His
handsome fair face was distorted with either
pain or anger; his pale lips trembled; his left
| hand was pressed, with the old familiar
gesture, upon his heart.
False, false that you are!' broke at lengt b
| from his blOodless lips, as he seized Jessie
with his right hand. "You told me you did
not care for Robert Edbury! You told me -
shiver, he fell on the carpet. Robert Edbury
broke the fall partially, but was not quite
quick enough to save him from it. Jessie flew
| from the room for assistance.
| Robert Stonor herer' asked the bewldered
Mrs. Chassdane. II thought he was confined
| to his chamber at homer
He had been confined to his room; but alas,
he had crept out OF it that evening and come
up to the house to see Jessie. With the fond
| hope OF surprising her in the usual evening
room, he had gone round the shrubbery, in
tending to enter by the window, and had
| heard all.
On the floor, there as he lay, his head raised
| on q cushion by the hands of Robert Edbury,
| he died. The medical men said, he could not,
in any case have lived many months If weeks,
| but that the agitation had killed him.
| It was many long days after that, when she
had risen from the sick-bed to which this
81 nf Gr6 6nnh Loot h haI h hnr hot
Robert Edbury came to say farewell to Miss
ChaSsdane.
The interview was brief, studiedly brief, for,
with the shadow of that dead man lying be-
tween them, speech was difficult to both.
Goodbye" she cried, reaching out to him
an attenuated hand. Il hope you may find
happiness and peacep'
'But we shall meet again." cried Robert,
eagerly. "Surely- surely-some time i'm the
future may come to YOU
Hush" she cried, the tears rolling pite
ously down her cheeks. "You must not speak
Of that Roberts shadow would always come
between u.s. as he fell there on the floor. We
killed him. We killed him." And she wrung
her hands together in strong excitement.
stop" said Robert Edbury, quite sternly
You are taking an altogether mistaken view
Of the truth. Ask your mother; ask any one.
But you are weak and i'll yet, Jessie, and the
time has not come for me to insist on this.
Let US think Of him, poor fellow, as one who
must had he lived, have suffered much, and
who has mercifulIy found peace in the rest of
death"
He stood for moment looking with q fond
longing into the small, sweet face from which
the summer roses had fled with grudging
haste. Then taking from his pocket fragile
gold and crystal circlet he held it ont to her
1t was the bracelet she lost the first night of
their meeting.
81 found it under your window that night
with the violets," he said at fell from your
arm. Will you take it back now?'
A faint lovely tinge Of red tickered into her
cheeks once more.
Nor she answered, looking into his dark
face with tender, gentle usefulness IL
don't want to recall that night, or anything
connected with it. You may keep it if you
like"
So he kissed her and said farewell. But he
left whisper behind him.
when the roses bloom again remember
me-"
A year went by, and no message came The
second year he said to himself Surely she
will send for me nowr' But May and June
crept by, and July came; but not one word
came from Jessie Chasdane. He was growing
sick with a wild and helpless despair for he
felt how worse thar useless it would be to go
uncalled when one day letter came futter-
ing like white bird to his heart:
"The roses are In bloom and there Is one for
YOU