Daily Los Angeles herald., 1883-11-08

and humility.
In the meantime, she Glanced
to take up one of the daily papers,
when her eye fell upon a para
grlph which told her that Capt.
St. Clair had departed for tour
in the East. This added the last
dregs to her cup OF bitterness,
for now she felt him beyond ali
power of reconciliation. How his
last words rang in her earsl Re-
tribution had indeed followed
quickly in her footsteps, but had
not Der own evil passion brought
1t upon herr
The fashionable world wonder
ed why the beautiful and accom-
plished young heiioss rejected
some Of the most eligible suitors.
She felt isolated upod a barren
mountain, looking down upon
nunberless gardens OF happi-
ness; but she could see none for
herself--they were all for others.
How she prayed that from the
rlentitude that waits upon some
souls might fall crunb th {
would stay the cravings OF her
own bleeding heartl In imaginu-
ton, she would wander along
memory's gallery until she reach
ed her favorite picture. There
she would stand and muse until
the bitter revelation came to her
that the past, SO replete with
happiness. had forever passed
away.
Thus a dreary year passed away
and Ada still lived. mourning for
the man who. waking or sleeping,
was ever present to her mind.
She was musing deeply of him ut
the close Of more than usually
sad day, at her country house
some twenty miles from London.
The evening was warm but not
oppressivs---one that disposes US
to quiet rather than languor--so
she wandered out over the fields
until her feet sank in the velvet
sward, and the perfomed air fan
ned her fevered brow. 1t was q
meet hour for maiden's fancy;
and the scenes being enticing, ,
she tarried under the open sky
and looked around her. How she
wished for such gladness to fill
her soull She wandered on until
she came to the side of brook,
aud sat down beneath the shade
OF a tree to hold communion with
herself. though it was d torture
that nearly bore ! let to the earth.
But tired nature gave way, aud
she wss soon locked III the arms
OF Morpheus. Sue dreamed OF
one who. she thought, had trod-
den on all the little f,wers Of af-
lection. How her hopes died out
one by one, and vanished like the
CLEANS OF sunshine that had just
sunk behind the grove Of treesl
Casting her eye OH the ground.
sbs CHANGED to see some deld
leaves lying at her feet; and NOV
ing them she heheld q beautiful
white flower, which was buried
b meath the deal leaves; then.
while in the act OF plucsing il,
she was prevented from so doing
by noise as if some one were
approaching. Seeing nothing,
shs turned again to pluck the
hJwer, when. before her, stood
Theodore st. Clair. ghastly aud
pale, and holding the flower out
to her.
He said, ada, take this, and
blight not its life as you have
niue;"-and. STOPPING to kiss her
cheek. lie was goue.
With wild scream she awoke,
and for long time could not col
lect her senses, Sue had seen
Theodore. aud he had given her
the white flower. Whut could it
mean2 Her reverie. however. was
interrupted by her maid. who had
bee ome alarmed at Ada's long
absence, and staitsd in pursuit
Of her. On reaching home, she
found the evening post had ar
lived, aud among the letters Was
one written ia strange hand.
Ire mblingly opening it. she read :
"MY LoNo LOST DAZZLING: They
tell me / am dying, but cannot
leave this world without seeing
you again. You will fud me at
the Bath Hotel. Piccadilly. Grant
me my dying request; and delay
not one moment, SO that l can
hear from your own lips that
you have forgiven, and still love
Your own, THEoponr"
| For q moment, she was quite
bavilderad. hut kuowiuO there