The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1881-08-19

l
OF the Church of Rome. Even as late
as the twelfth century there were still
priests who set the prohibition of mar.
riage at defiance"
listened as one of the many ignorant
persons alluded to by Lord Lorino
1t was with difficulty that fixed nv
attention ON what he was saying. My
thoughts wandered to Stella and 10 the
dying man. l looked at the clock.
Lady Loring evidently shared the
feeling ofsuspense that had got posses
sion OF me. She rose and walked TO
the window.
"Here is the message!" she said, re.
cognzed her traveliDg-servan as he ell
tered the hotel door.
The man appeared with line writ
ten on card. was requested to pre-
sent the card at tho embassy without
delay.
4th May.-I am only now able to
continue my record of the events of
yesterday. A silent servant received
me at the embassy, looked at the card,
ana led the way to an upper floor of
the house. Arrived at the end of O
long passage he opened the door and
retired.
AS crossed the threshold Stella met
me. She took both my hands i'm hers
and looked at me in silence. All that
was true and good and noble expressed
itself in that look.
The interval passed; and she spoke
very sadly, very quietly.
Onc more work of mercy, Bernard.
Help him to die with heart at rest"
She drew back, and l approached
him.
lie ieclined, fropped up with pillows,
In large easy chair; it was the one
position in which he could still breathe
with freedom. The ashy shades of
death were on his wasted face. In the
eyes alone, as they slowly turned on
me, there still glimmered the waning
light OF life. One of his arms huno
down over the chair; the other was
clasped round his child, sitting on his
fathers knee. The boy looked at me
wonderingly, as stood by his father
Romayne si9.ed 60 mo tv stuup SO tnat
l might hear him.
"Penrose Z" he asked, family whisper
ing. 'Dear Arthur! Not dying like
me?"
quieted that anxiety. For the mo-
ment there was even the shadow of
smile on his face as told him of the
effort that Penrose bad vainly made
to be the companion of my Journey.
He asked me by another gesture, to
bend my ear to him once more.
"My last grateful blessing to PEN
rose. And to you. May not say it?
You have saved Arthur" his eyes
turned towards Stella--"vou have been
her best fr.end." lie a.s,d to recover
his feeble breath, looking around the
large room, without creature i'm il
but ourselves. Once more the melan-
choly shadow of a smile passed over
his face and vanished. l listened near.
er to him still.
"Christ took child on his knee.
The priests call themselves ministers of
Christ. They have left me because of
this child, here on my knee. wrong,
wrong, wrong. Winterfeld, Death is
a great teacher. know how l have
errcd-what | have lost. Wife and
child. How poor and barren all the
rest of it looks now."
lie was silent for while. Was he
thinking? No; he seemed to be listen
ing, and yet there was no sound in the
room. Stella anxiously watching him,
saw the listening expression as | did. |
Her face showed anxiety, but no sur
prise.
"Does it torture you still?" she ask
ed.
"No," he said; 81 haxc never heard |
it plainly since l left Rome. 1t has |
grown fainter and fainter from that |
time. 1t is not voice now. Il is |
scarcely whisper. My repentance is
accepted, my release is coming. Where
is Winterfeldr
She pointed to me.
81 spoke of Rome just now. What
did Rome remind me of?' He slowly
recovered tho lost recollection. "Tell
Winterfcld," he whispered to Stella.
"what the Nuncio said when he knew
that 1 was going to die. The great
man rcckoned up the dignities that
might heve been mine If l hak lived.
From my place here in the en-
bassy-"
"Let me say it," she gently interpos-
ed, "and spare your strength for better
things. From your place in the en-
bassy yon wonld have mounted step
higher to the Office of Vice-Legate.
Those duties wisely performed, another
rise to the Authorship of the Apostolic
Chamber. That Office filed, a last step
upward TO the highest rank left, the
rank of Prince of the Church."
"All vanity!" aaid the dying Ro-
mayne. lie looked at his wife and his
child. "Thc irne happiness was wait
ing for mo here. And L only know it
now. Too late. Too late"
He laid his head back on the pillow
and closed his weary eyes. We
thought he was composing himself to
sleep. Stella tried to relieve him of |
the boy. "No," he whispered; al am
only resting my eyes to look at him
again" We waited. The child stared |
at me in an infantine curiosity. His
mother knelt at his side and whispered
in his ear. A bright smile irradiated |
his face; his clear brown eyes spark led
he repeated the forgotten lesson of the
bvgone time, and called me once more
"Uncle Ber."
Romayne heard 1t. His heavy eye
lids opened again, "No," he said. |
"Not uncle. Something better and |
dearer. Stella, give me Your hand"
Still kneelilg she obeyed him. lie |
slowly raised himself in the chair, |
"Take her hand" he said to me. too
knelt. Her hand lay cold in mine.
After a long interval he spoke to me.
"Bernard Winterfleld," he said, "love
them and help them when l am gone"
He laid his weak hand on our hands
clasped together. "May God protect
you may God bless youw p he murmur-
ed. "Kiss me, Stella"
remember no more. AS man, l
ought to haye set better example. II
ought to hsve preserved my self-con-
troll. II was not to be done. turned
away from them and burst out cry
Ing.
The minutes passed. Many minutes