The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1879-04-30
A STRANGE STORY.


A STRANGE STORY.
| was stationed at Agra during the
Cabul disasterin lS4l, one ola mere hand
full of British troops, left in charge OF the
wives, sisters and'daughters of the actors
in that unhappy expedition. And Il
weary, heart breaking time it was. The
acknowledgement who had prayed
and besought the Calcutta authorities
not to risk the adventure, had the worst
forebodings for its fate; and although he
did all an able, kindly and Well-manncrcd
mar could do to maintain the spirits OF
the circle, those who knew him could
read too well what his fears were. Words
could not describe-indeed it is painful
for me even now to recall-the dreary
w~retchedness Of that fatal month, during
which no tidings came of the devoted
army. Evening after evening saw the
roads crowded by anxious women, Sit
ting there for hours, that they might near
the first news of those who were dear to
them, and evening after evening saw
them return in despair. And then, at
last, the news came that the sole sur
vivor had staggered, half alive, back to
his countrymen with the tidings OF the
great disaster, the wall that ascendel
from those heart-broken creatures l shall
never, while l live, forget.
There had been a captain in one of the
native regiments, an old acquaintance OF
mine, of the name of Donnelly-Jerry
Donnelly, as he was called by every one.
He was careful to explain to all his
friends that his name was jerome, and
not jeremiah, although why he so un-
duly preferred the saint to the prophet. |
never understood. Jerry Donnelly, how
ever, he was, and as strange and eccen-
tr1c a creature as ever breathed.
He was q very g~ood-looking fellow
and a first-rate officer, but Il careless, roll
licking, half-insane mac up OF a man,
with an amazing flow of spirits, little
education or culture, q great-tlmost
miraculous-talent for languages, with 4
soft heart and easy temper. 1t was i'm
possible to make him angry; and in all
circumstances, however unpleasant, he
maintained a placid serenity, which
seemed to imply that he was on init
mate terms with fortune and knew the
very worst that she could do.
Among the other tricks which the
tickle goddess had played him was that
she had married him. Why he ever
married as he did no one could imagine.
The lady was heither handsome, clever
nor rich. She was simply passable us
to looks, with the liveliress of good
health and youth-a quality not inapt
to develop itself in ~vivacity of temper
when those other attributes disappear.
But, on some impulse, Jerry Donnelly
had asked her the momentous question,
and been favorably answered.
A most uncomfortable couple were
they. Jerry, from the very first, neglect
ed her-not Intentionally, l believe, but
simply because for the moment he for
rot her existence. 1t never seemed to
him necessary to alter his former bache-
lor round in any respect; and, rs the
lady had no notion of being neglected,
she resented the indifference, and chalked
out Il line for herself. They never quar-
relied outwardly, but were hardly ever
together.
So stood the domestic circle, if such
ii could he called, of Captain Donnelly,
when he was ordered on General Elphin-
stones expedition. His wife would fain
have remained at Calcutta, but, as all
the wives were going to Agra, she for
very shame was obliged to go there also.
On the first rumors Of the disaster she
was very indiferent-said she was sure
Jerry would turn up at the most incon-
yenient time; and if he was happy, she
was. When, however, the tidings were
confirmed, and it was certain that Jerry
had persisted with his comrades, u great
change came over her. She shut her.
self up for months, saw no n and went
nowhere. And when, ut the end of 4
year, she began once more to look ut the
world, she was n grave, thoughtful, soft
ened She went up to Calcutta
after that, and | neve saw her again
until I came home on q furlough in
l947. She was then living in q pretty
place in Somersetshire, and was known
as Mrs. C~ourtnay, of Branley Hall.
1 met her accidentally, but she was
very glad to see me, and explained to
me what I had not heard, that when
she arrived ut Calcutta she found that
Door Jerry had, four months before he
left Agra, succeeded to this place ofBran-
lev Hall by the death of Il distant rela-
tive. He had previously made a will,
leaving her all his worldly goods, then
slender enough, so that in the end this
fine estate had come to her, and a new
nam with it. She asked me come
down and see her, which I did, and
learned more Of the history.
Sorrow and prosperity greatly changed
her for the better. Even her looks had
improved, and she was a pleasant,
thoughtful. agreeable woman. She had
remained four years in Calcutta before
she returned, and had at ono assumed
the name of Courtnay, which was one
of the conditions on which the bequest
was made. =,
"You know, Colonel Hastings, Icould
not have lost the estate, for what would
poor Jerry have said when he came
back?"
thought the woman's head must have
been affected by her troubles, and said
nothing.
Il see you think me deranged, but |
knew he was alive all the time"
why, what could have induced you
to think So"
Il knew him, Colonel Hastings. 1t
was in your bungalow. at Calcutta,
about two years after l had gone back.
Late in the evening 1 heard a footstep
outside which strangely affected me. l
was lying half asleep. and, starting up
in a drowsy state, l heard Il voice at
the veranda, and, rs / thought, inquir-
ing of my stupid old servant whether |
lived there. The steps then turned
away. | darted to the easement, and al
though the figure was clad in the most
extraordinary compound of European
and Asiatic garments, l am sure it was
Jerry. I darted down stairs and rushed
out, but he had disappeared. The ser
want said he was Il bad fakir and wished
to get in the bungalow, but he could or