Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1881-07-03

know the Austrian nobility is the most
exclusive in Europe. Only those &C
quainted with society in Vienna can un-
derstand the wall parvenu finds extend
ed against him. Having heard some
what of this, Mr.. Grey justly thought his
daughter could be no match for the count,
and he forbade him the house. 1t was
too late Mary and her lover fled to Eng
land and were married. Whether mar
riage in England, with every Austrian
formality unfulflled, constituted mar
rage In Austria, l know not. l only
know that Mary wrote to me from Naples,
telling me that although her marriage
was still secret from her husbands
friends, she would be happy if only her
father would write to her and forgive
her. 1t seemed all her letters remained
unanswered.
GA year passed away, and then heard
from Mary again She wrote in fearful
anguish. Her husband had gone to
Vienna to attend the death-bed of his
mother, and in his absence she had
opened letter from his sister. This,
like some rude shock, awoke Mary from
her dream.
81 cannot wonder" said the writer,
"that you hesitate to acknowledge your
mad marriage. If you do so you are
ruined. No one will speak to the daugh-
ter of bankrupt and a suicide. You
must lead this woman about in her lone
illness, feeling ashamed OF her and of the
folly that has shut you out from the
society of your equals. If her father had
not made away with himself, she might
bear it. AS it is, the whole thing is hor-
ror. When our poor mother is gone,
from whom have scrupulOusly kept the
secret, | counsel you to make up your
mind to part with this poor drag on your
existence. Ascertain if your marriage is
valid or not in Austria, and.act according
ly. II you have not firmness to do this
| warn you that your career in your own
country-a noble one, if you would-is
over, and you are henceforth wanderer
and an outcast.'
''When Mary Grey laid down this letter
her heart was broken-the news 1t told
her was so bitter Her father, then, had
died by his own hand, and she, scarcely a
wife, was drag and a curse to the man
she loved. In her way she was as proud,
nay, prouder than he was, and she now
resolved to leave him forever Even
IL
that he whom she loved so dearly, was
ashamed of her, and felt her curse and
a drag. She fastened to Paris. There
she learned that her father-ever weak
man-had destroyed himself in a fit of
frenzied grief the day after her desertion
of him. This fact her husband had pitt
fully kept from her, but Mary knew that
he had brooded over it in disgust and
horror, and it added terribly to his bur-
den of shame in his marriage. If she had
resolved to quit him before, this dire
truth confirmed her resolve. Henceforth
her loneliness should be a penance self
imposed. She wrote me this from Paris,
adding that her love for her husband was
too great to let her ruin him. He was
free; she restored him to his home, his
friends, career If she had son, she
could scarce feel justified in doing this,
but her child was daughter, and it
would be happier for her to be brought
up in obscurity and love and marry some
poor man
81 never heard from Mary Grey again
1 never knew, till you told me, how she
lived or how she died.
"And how did the loss of his wife and
child affect him?" asked.
every differently, l believe, from the
expectations of his sister. He did not
return to Vienna; he sought out no hon
orable career. A lost and lonely man, he
wandered about Europe purpOsely, until
five years ago he electrified the fashiona-
BILE world by burying his wife, with all
sorts of CHASTITY honors, in the family
vault in some old chateau in the TyrOl.
At the same time he introduced and
acknowledged his daughter, who is very
beautiful, very accomplished and very
unhappy"
Chow do you know THAR" 1 asked,
eagerly
"Her face tells me- | hear she hates
the world, refuses all offers of marriage
and only lmplores leave to enter con-
vent. Her father, who adOres her, is in
despair She is very restless, and he
wanders about with her from city to city.
But people say it is all useless; the same
strange event follows them everywhere
but then, of course, that is impossible
"What eventp' cried, and l felt my
heart beat painfully as l bent forward to
listen.
"Why, people say the poor young coun-
tess is haunted by a madman-a wild,
Sduut CIC0tulC, WIN IOlIOWo uC1 Will q
most piteous and heart breaking love.
Who he IS none know. The count has
offered a reward many times to find hun,
but in valn.''
held my peace. l did not say this
poor, lost creature was Stephenie's fos-
ter broth9r, once the happy child of the
Ardennes.
With much pity in my heart l sought
him anxiously many days in Paris, but
when heard the count and his daughter
were gone ceased my search, feeling by
asure instinct that this city no longer held
Gustave lie Fou
There is no need to relate what bust
ness or what pleasure took me two years
after this to St. Elmo l went by the
same road, and it was with strangely sad
feelings that I now looked up to the great
roof of green leaves and thought of the
two joyous children whose happy voices
had started my solitude.
In deep silence l rode on over the sun
flecked turf, leaf and shadow twinkling
around me, flashing oriole and resplen-