The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1880-08-15

part with hct>-shc's the only oc'bR Vu eatn
that can do anything with my husband-the
only thing left rue 70 care for, or that cares
for me. And now, Mr.. Carew, must run
in--thcre's O'CLOCK striking, ana Mag
gle viii be wondering why don't come TO
help her in getting breakfast ready" :,
81 wonder what the glrt THINKS OF me,
was Cacew's se!f-repfoachful ejaculation,
uttered within hearing al no creature out
the rocks. as, after breakfast, the speaker
walked down toward the Abbey. nat
should p girl like this Margaret wonc,
dividing her strange itfe between dreams OF
the past and the miseries OF the present,
Know OF the meaningless talk men ndu'gc
in toward girls whose society they ma
yi,easant for the hour, but don't care 10
retain for lifes I'll talk no more nonsense
to this Diana OF eighteen. After all,
Carew halted, and looked back through the
,trees al the cottage he had left. p" NO, not
a wife, the painter muttered, walking on
again. al don't care to take wife away
with me from the Furness. A pictures
all want
Enter The chapel when he might. Carew
failed 10 find IFS shsdowy desoialion bright
ened lby the presence OF Margaret Wolfe;
and ne had received from London the can
vas and other materials that he wrote Tor,
and had spent day or two IN meditation
over his projected picture before he again
saw her in the Abbey ruins.
Mr.. Wolf bad lived for years past the lie
Of the hibitUal drunkard; aud he was now
DYING tue death OF one.
Wolfe died In the night; Margaret and
the decor only being with him. When
Carew rose next morning he met the
widow at the door of the death-chamber.
ar no al
gle has the fever. My husbands dead, and
she will die too"
The July days crept slowly past, sue
cession of blazing Moons and sultry eve
nings that parched and cracked the Furness
fields into ghaslly simiitude 10 those
cheeks and lips on which rested SIN
tercer breath than that OF the sun-the
burning kiss OF fever. Day By day The
furnace.like atmosphere aided doubtful re-
ports from The sck.room TO Cypress Carew
with more cruel fears concerning Margaret.
Now that he no longer saw her. and could
not in delcacy venture further than to the
threshold OF the chamber where she hover
ed between life and death, the full extent
of the impression this singular girl had
made upOn hlm was gradually revealed.
He wrought feverlshly and assiduousy at
his picture, that by painting her pure, Sc
rious face as it appeared in health, he
might distract his mind from the thought
of il when flushed with the dellrum Of
fever.
The pear-:ree that, when the artist open
ed bis window, nodded before him branches
laden with ripening fruit, stretched other
branches toward the cbamber-windOw of
q eli All IL
open for the heavy summer air to enter
words spoken in the one room struck on
the ears OF a listener in the other. Leaning
out toward the pear-tree, Carew had already
caught on several occasions the voice of
Margaret Wolfe, weak from illness. and too
iudistinct for his ear TO separate its faint ac-
cents into words.
He was leaning thus in the early morning
of the first OF August, drinking III deep
draughts OF a fresber air than had famed
his cheek for weeks past, and rejoicing in
the cool breeze that sang softly among the
leaves of the patch OF woodland opposite.
Rain had fallen in the nigbt-the first
shower for nearly a month-and all nature
Law green, dewy, and heaithful in the smil-
ing August dawn. Carew, his artists
IMAGINATION Quckened by the beauty Of the
scene before him, half believed that the
goddess OF morning, sweet Aurora, was
herself in presence.
''She is come TO cool your parched lips
with her kisses, my poor Margaret"
A laugh, dissonant and mirthless, Jared
on the ears OF the young painter as he MUIR
INJURED this fancy to himself. 1t was diff
cult TO realize that il came from the lips he
apOstrophiZed.
See. mother, see, the Abbot is trying to
take the casket from me Oh, mother, what
hundreds of pearls and rubies there are In
III Wen sell them in London and buy the
old house again, and have as much land as
we had before father began TO drink. Lady
Dorothy doesn't like the plan, she SAYS.
There's her ghost behind the others. Oh,
how pretty she i>-what lovely blue eyes,
and what an innocent face for wO-
man That was so wicked! Hers is just
the hair TO twist strings OF pearls in.
Take the casket-take it-fOr fear the
ghosts should be too strong for me. There's
more of them rising-bundreds Of them
the rooms full OF their faces. Oh. what
horrible creatures Keep them off, mother;
don't let them come near the bed. Where's
Mfr. Carew? He would drive them away.
Oh. mother, their cold hands are touching
me Oh, help, help!"
With the girls scream ringing in his ears,
Carew hurried out Of the room and house.
He painted nothing that day. The exquisite
mental pain occasioned by Margaret's de-
lirium had untitled him to handle the brush.
A weary time spent among the Abbey ruins
gave place TO sleepless night; and when,
on the following morning, he attempted, by
way Of breaking the painful monotony of
bis thoughts, TO resume his picture, the re-
suit was so unsatisfactory that he cast the
brush from him in despair. The three sue
ceedng days were among the most painful
that Carew had ever spent.
On the 4h, an hour or two after he had
risen, there came a light tap at his room
fronted by Mrs. Wolfe's frightened face and
desparing eyes
"Oh, Mr.. Carew," she walled; "my
ehild's dying! The doctor says she may
pass away witlfQaat waking from the stup0r
she's in. Come and see her once again be-
i0re she dies"
Carew had neTer more than confused
and misty recollection OF the minutes that
followed. He remembered di0aiy seme-
whef large room. airy and fresh and cool,
as belts the chawser in which science and
affection contend with the demoA OF fever.
The exhausted nurse had retired to her
own Poom to rest; but from the pillows Of
the be6 there lsokednOrth wasted strange
ly-solems. face, moPebeauiful ia cts strange
stiffness than il haG been in l,5e serene
seriousness of health. The epeS were
closed: ii SCENE the face OF one dead.
The great grief lha't already wrapped her
with its shadow b. I'D impaired TO the mother
a sei.restraint and dignity that in ordinary
seasons Wore fOrei gu 80 her nature. She
burst into no loud paro&ysm of weeping,