The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1883-11-24
MIRIAM.


much affected by those who love the
gentle glow of the winter sun.
1t was there upon certain morning,
that Herbert Trevannion found himself
in a bath chair. A fail from his horse
and broken limb had brought him to
Brighton. He was horribly bored, of
course, and had he had sympathizing
friend, he would have expressed himself
thus:
"What in the world am l to do with
myself in this abandoned place? There
is not place open to me; not soul to
speak to; not even a woman TO love-at
least not a good-looking one. And to
think that it will be at least month be-
fore 1 can cross horse! 1t is madden
mgr
In despair he produced a paper-the
Daily Telegraph and abandoned him
self to the charms of its sparkling col
umns.
He was in the midst of letter from
suburban butterman lameDting the
difficulty of providing, IN these hard
times, with due regard to their post
ton IN society, for eleven sons lawfully
begOtten, when the sound of wheels dis.
turbed him. 1t was only a bath-chair
passing. An ordinary occurrence
enonsh b. But in this chair was a woman
with face which seemed to int rest him.
for he followed it with his eyes steadily
TILL 1t passed away up the cliff out of
sight. Then he exclaimed: "What a
perfect beauty! She is the very image
of that Greuze at home Who can she
be ?"
Perhaps he obtained an introduction
to the "image of Greuze" through the
French chairman, or more likely, pre-
scented himself sans ceremonie; at all
events, he is standing month afterward
by her side. He is quite well now and
able to hunt, and in fact, is hunting, but
not the fox. "For beauty lures the full
grown child" as effectually as the red
vermln of the woods, and as often as not
leads him ga chase of idle hopes and
fears, " to finish up, alas with tears.
That the quarry is hard pressed is ev-
ldent, for her face is unusually pale. and
her voice trembles as she murmurs In
reply to an appeal of her companion,
g 1t can not, can not be -
" But if you will not marry me, what
will you do"
go home and try to forget you"
"You dare not go home, for you can
not forget me-"
The "image" turned her face toward
the sea, and was silent for while; then
said, What you tell me is, alas, too
true; l cannot forget you.
"Then marry me, Miriam I"
&c cannot marry you," she repeated.
"Tell me, are you engaged to be mar
ried ?"
"I am not"
What. then, is the meaning of it
alp
"Never mnd what it means; enough
that love you too much to leave you. &"
Place, then, your hand in mine, Z"
said the hunter, "and L Will lead you
far away beyond the sea, to where we
shall be to one another all In all"
Again there was q silence. Then
said the woman: "Close your eyes for
a moment, Herbert, and promise me
on your honor that you will never
came, nor to speak to me again of mar
riage."
:" / promise.
Then she drew from her left hand a
glove, and cast something, with sigh,
into the sea.
"Now open your eyes," she said,
and here Is my hand, and with it my
heart. Let the dead past bury its dead
will go away with you whenever and
wMthersoever you please"
:" Iu one uncloLded blaze of living
Light " the sun is sinking behind the
rugged outline of Les Hes Sanguinaires.
From the bosom of cobalt sea the pur-
pie peaks of Sardinia project themselves
far into the pale, Transparent ether,
whilst broken shafts of silvery moon
light CLEAN through the chestnut trees
upon the desolate house where, two
years before, Trevannion had brought
the fair captive of his bow. They are
on the terrace watching the dying day.
Silently and sadly, hand in hand, they
note the shadows of the "isles OF
blood" creep along the sea. Presently
one speaks-it is Marian.
q have been happy, very happy,
here with you, my well-beloved, and
the thought of parting is bitter pain,
but my days now, l know, are num-
bered."
Treyannion leant over the couch on
which she was lying, and looked steadily
INTO her face. There was a change he
perceived, even since the morning. He
had known for many day that she was
TOO fragile to live. He saw that tn
shadow of death was indeed upon her.
Bot he answered never word.
You have always been so good and
kind to M" she continued, "that
know You will not refuse me another IA
vor, the last / stall ask of YOU"
- Wha IL n fhof
do for you, Miriam %
g would have you by and by-when
l am gone-take me away from here,
and lay nee away in the old churchyard
on the cliff at home; and / would like
you TO beg the rector Of the place TO read
the service Of the church over me. The
rector, you understand, not the cur
ate"
He kissed her brow, and said, 'Yor
have never told ne, darling, where youl
home il.
. | know But when tits all over you
VIII learn that from nay papers, and the
name OF the rector as veil.
Shall l take yon there now2 Per-
haps you would like 10 see this clere v
man ?"
She did not reply. only shivered. The
III "a LHt hlElitGFfhNtaH AT sunset some
times strikes cold. 81 think will 90 in
now, Herbert, che said presently; 81
feel little tired. :"
That night she grew worse. In "A week
the wanderef was at rest
To Rev. josiah snithsfs. Old Haven. I'd
~tLchs L0hDph, July -.
DEAR SIn-hhoftIy befofs Tie death Of nv
wife, which took place I4st mouth H. Tie Island
of Corsica, che expressed wish 10 :ne that
her remains should be removed - England
and inferred IN the e4HfsuysTd II the parish OF
Old Haven, the fectgf II which 1 believe YOU
to be.
Furthermore, she particularly desired that
the funeral service should BE- performed by no
other clergyman than yourself
am advised now that the caSket containing
her body is IN the custom house &c Gid Haven
awaiting clearance.
Az | presume you will not be indsposed to
conduct the burial arrangements Of one who
was formerly your paTishloneT; / am writing 10
the custom house authorities 10 forward the