The weekly clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1863-1882, 1881-05-12

rage ana While both slept. the trail
stopped at station. Elise. sittin,
nearest the door, was ANNOYED BY tn,
entrance Of stranger who sat opposit
her and gazed at her so STRANGELY tina.
sne quite tancied he must see the gbost
: OF her pretty youth there in the dark
I ness, anu actually retrained from open
her snuff box lest she too rudely shattet
the vision.
But posing for tableaux yivants
even OF ones long beautiful vontb n
midnight IN dim and iolting carriage
Is wearisome and slumbrous work. Lit
tie by little Elise forgot her pose; the
eoquetlish tilt by degrees departed from
her head, the bird-like motions from he,
sim old frame. Then uneonSciously
sac took pinch of snuff. after which
slumber fell upon her, and age and wea.
rIness brooded over her.
suddenly she started broad awake.
The train was again ut standstill.
through the gloom OF their carriage
she could see tall figure, with tull
beard and hat drawn down over hi,
eyes, bending over her sleeping mis-
tress.
49, 80 tthC LitlAtu L ItnCNWDlQaU
was about to scream, the figure bent low
Tor one swift instant till his lips might
almost have touched the unveiled face
and then sprang out of the carriage to
be instantly lost in the darkness outside.
Then the lady awoke with a sigh.
'.Nhat dream | have had she
said.
The day was dawning grayly. The
four or five sleepy passengers in their
carriage were struggling awake, some
80 successfully as to have fallen upon
the bread and sausage and sour wine.
which Is the chief diet OF passengers on
| through trains on the continent. The
lamps burned dimly. and the air was
heavy and chill in the carriage where
sat the yelled lady as the train rushed
on toward Fontainebleau. This was the
last stopping place before Paris, and
the lady drew breath Of relief as She
thought that in an hour more she would
see the familiar capital. For there in
that whirlpool OF life is not a fugitive
more securely hidden than in the re-
hottest corner Of Europe, upon the
| thlthermost edge of The universe? In
| the everswelling monotone of humani-
| tvs paint and prayer that rises from
great city can not one breaking heart
best smother Its own means, or mingle
in them undistinguishable?
She sprang from her seat in terror.
Holy Mother what was that ?"
cried Elise, stopping short in making
her toilet somewhat after Grimalkin's
fashion.
\ pistol shot had been fred in the
carriage behind their own, and clamor
of voices, a heavy groan, and the sound
Of many feet rushing along the plat
form of the station told them that some
frightful scene was passing within reach
Of their hands.
"One gentleman in carelessly open
ing his portmanteau had moved a revol- /
yer and shot the gentleman next him, "
a voice explained
Elise eaned from the window.
They are carrying him out, Made .
moiselle." she said ''he lives, but is dy- I
ing. He looks like pictures Of the /.
blessed Saint Sebastian in the churches |
He has red-gold beard and-oh F! /
Mademoiselle-it is the very same
Monsieur who chartered the Italia"
Mon Dieu" whispered the passen-
aFas GASP &c I mistress face. sJIoa Diea 4
Qud aafheT And such a beautiful
woman as she was, too.
4 week later a strange scene was en-
acted in a chamber Of one of the hotels /
Of Fontainebleau. The time was just
before sunset. Sweet odors stole through
the open windows from the garden
below as ifswung from invisible censers. /
4 slant flood Of sunshine came with
the incense and swept to the foot Of the
bed, shedding a golden halo around the
figures kneeling there. 1t stole yet
farther toward the shadows beyond,
revealing several standing and official
looking persons, who, though evidently
there on business, found that business
strangely foreign to their habit. Then
il arrested itself to touch with heavenly
chrism a kneeling woman's exquisite
head with a wealth of raven hair hound
in a classic knot Her elegant figure
was clad in soft, nun-like gray dainty
lace was at her throat and around her
delicate hands. She seemed not girllsh-
Nv young, bright and dewy as llte's
morning should be. Nevertheless she
was Young, as is Michael Angeles Pieta,
made eternally young by tenderness
and purity, even though earthly years
have passed over her, even though
sorrow and suffering have marked her,
and only is LETT her dead to mourn.
What the lady's face was, one could
not say, for it was hidden among the
pillows.
A clergyman, in the same somber
robes in which Protestants consecrate a
newborn soul to God, and commit
world weary one to Gods unbroken
rest, was repeating solemn ceremony
of the church Elise's wet cheek was
laid against her crucifx. Among the
pillows Law a corpse-like face with
closed eyes, and red gold beard, the
face of the wounded man whose hands
| clasped tight, not the symbol Of the
| faith Of Christendom, but the anchor OF
one hearts earthly hope-a woman :
/ little hand.
"At last, my own" he whispered, as
amen" foated through the chamber.
She raised her face.
Alas that face, that once radiant,
exquisite face, whose beauty was all in
ruins.
ooh, my husband, she moaned, "but
/ for SINFUL faithlessness IN your love TIN,
would never have been. Had | not fied
/ from YOU all these years asking rather
+ death than that you see my poor face
/ hiding from you ever since that tata
/ fire ate up the beauty you were once
promised with your wife. You would
not now be dying, while -
At this iuneture the new-made hus
/ band began to conduct himself III most
extraordinary uncorpselike manner
| a tinge Of color came upon his cheeks
and a malicious glitter in his brown
eyes.
Likewise was his smile almost sublime
/ in It's maIevoience a. he said:
Madame, do YOU imagine that you
/ have had a monopoly Of faithlessness
Have you overlooked, and will you for
/ give the trifing circumstance, that
f-+ti ororgI ia v-our tapd L