The Canton advocate. [volume] (Canton, D.T. [S.D.]) 1877-1897, 1881-01-20
II hope it will never become plain

clOuQ. SQe trleu 10 occupy ueiSeli
with thousand trihes; the very roses
in the garden appeared to hang their
heads and drop THEN petals pensively;
the mocking-birds sang out Of tune;
the atmosphere was oppressive as be-
fore thunderstorm. Rose wandered
about the house and grounds aimlessly,
not knowing how to pass the time
without Theodore She reminded her
self of the ghost of Mrs. Tristram
Throckmorton hunting the corridors
with her lighted taper to look at her
husbands portrait; she turned over
the rare prints in the library; she
opened the old-fashioned novels writ
ten for dead and gone generation; she
drew melancholy strain or two from
Theodore's violin, like the wailing ofa
banshee. One afternoon she bethought
herself Of Theodore's diary Of the war,
which she had promised she would
read whenever she wanted to condo
scend to plain prose. 1T is hidden in
a drawer of my private desk" he had
said. Read it, Rosamundi; when you
wish to be bored within an inch of your
life. She opened the desk and began
her search; but the diary was not so
easily found. \ friend had borrowed
it, not long before, in order to fix the
dates Of some political events in his
mind But while she turned over the
papers and opened the drawers, her
fingers must have touched accident
ally the spring ola secret com partme nt,
which, flying open, disclosed the pic
ture Of a woman embedded in a case OF
pearls and emeralds-a woman with
great velvcty eyes, like a panther's, a
rich color On the swarthy cheek, and
tense expression about the scarlet
curve Of the lips; face to haunt and
perplex one. Rose shuddered before
this apparition. Death is in her
beautiful eyes" she cried How she
must have hated to die, and
and theodore! How did he
ever forget her and love me?" And
then her eyes fell upon a shabby little
diary pushed out Of sight beneath the
picture. This must be Theodore's, !"
She thought; and she seated herself in
a sleepy-hollOw chair to enjoy it, yet
feeling as though that face would al
ways come between herself and Theo-
dore, unless she could lose herself in
those pages and forget it. In fact, so
penetrated was she with thoughts Of
this beautiful dead woman, whom
Theodore had once loved, that she
had been reading the diary for an
hour or so, had turned the leaves, and
had tried mechanically to follow the
thread, before she had awoke to the
conviction that it was not a novel she
held, nor a record Of the war. that il
was not written in Theodore's hand
but that it was record Of intense
feeling and agony-the diary Of Julia
Throckmorton.
''Twentieth-And this is revenge in
deed. You starve body and soul
Theodore Throckmorton-you who
promised to love and cherish. Was
| to blame because I could not love you?
Was it my fault that you could not
prove yourself as Irresistible as
Raphael? Why did I marry you then
When you swore that Raphael was
dead, shot through the heart, what did
anything signify? As we'll you as an.
other. If l deceived you, it was be
cause you were easily deluded; you
| thought nobody could resist Throck
morton And how | hated you when
Raphael came back, strong and beau
tiful, with that hungry look in his eyes
which I understood. What hours We
spent floating On the still river, which
was like a picture Of a dream, while
you forgot us among your books, fol-
lowing the flight Of comets, weighing
the stars and the earth! I was a lost
PIeiad, the course Of which you omit,
ted to reckon What dusks were those
made eloquent with love and melody
What sunsets doomed for us two
What stars trembled in our heaven
And that black, gusty night-ah,
should have been happy, happy, but
for you Theodore Throckmorton. Al
your wealth and love could not pur
chase happiness for me. I should have
been happy with Raphael in Italy-yes
in Hades. Why did you not let us go:
Why did you come down from the
clouds and the starry spaces, wake from
your nebulous trance, just to hinder
two lovers? Why did you stand
like the angel with the flaming
sword between Us and our par;adise'
And here, in this lonely prison-house
You make good your revenge J might
shrek for help or morsel Of bread
and none would hear me, shut in by
miles If plantation. Alas, I am SC
faint and worn, dragged myself to
the mirror to-day, and was scared at
the ghost which met me. Ishall never
see it again, for broke the glass into
atoms. Through the chinks of my
blind / see the ripe fruits dropping,
only to rot upon the ground below, and
am 80 hunry-dying, dying of star
walton in the lap ofluxury; al my beau
ty vanishing like a mist, crunbling into
dust! Who could have dreamed that
Theodore Throckmorton would be re-
venged on q woman for a. sin she failed
| in? If I die Tonight I Will haunt you
al the years of your life I will haunt
you: all the eternity after death
| will"
| Had the bitter heart ceased beating
with this inarticuIate cry? Julia
Throclkraorton died December 20, I8-'
had been written below by Theodore
| ItIHlS2lI.
While Rose had read, spell-bound, a
thunderstorm had risen in fury, but
she had not heeded-one of those sud
| den flashes of the elements; the light
nings had rent the sky, and had torn
| up at one stroke a, great tree on the
avenue. Theodore, returning unex-
pectedly, FASTENED through the grounds
and house to the library in search Of
her; she had used to fear the passion o.
these southern storms, unless folded II
his arms; but she stood up now and
confronted HIM, holding Julia Throck-
norton's diary in her hand, d speech
less horror frozen in her eyes. shrink
ing away from him, convulsed and cold
| You-you," she gasped, 4'you
starved her to death, here in this lone
Iy place; and-and II loved you
The Throckmortons are hard race;
and she fell fainting into his arms
That night the Throckmorton's heil
came home; but his mother made Nc
rejoicing She was going over ant
over again that cruel diary; its word
had burned into her memory; she wa!