The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1883-04-07

round, and seeing that his place in the row
| of mattresses was vacant.
He went ont about an hour ago. He said
| he couldn't sleep, and was going to skate up
! the river to Thompson's Station"
II got up slowly, and the motion was
| painful, for my whole body was numb. l
| spoke with hesitation, as if the power OF
speech was new to me.
Fitzgerald did not go up the river; he
went down toward Carriers Station. He has
| been drowned six miles below"
My shout had reused most of the men.
! They all exclaimed incrednlously that l
had been dreaming. l stood my ground,
and was already getting ready TO go out.
| The logged persistence of such a matter
of-fact fellow as / impressed them, and
they prepared to accompany me. When
We reached the river we put on our skates,
| We could not distinguish tracks, for we
had recently been skating great deal, TAX
! ing advantage of the clear ice rare so late in
the season. led down the river, the others
following, laughing at my expense. Soon
the infection of my profound hopefulness
spread and in ten minutes all were skating
swiftly. silently toward whatever awaited US.
When but sharp head;and lay between us
and the spot | had seen in my vision halted.
He is lying just beyond there. If the ice
| is broken we shall know"
We rounded the point in line. The ice was
broken and thrown up in pieces and the
water still bubbling.
1 have not much more to tell It was
afterward discovered that he had struck
one of the shallow springs on a sandy bot
| tom which never freeze solIdly. The water
would not have covered him standing,
| but the numbing influence of the intense
cold and the frailness of the sur
/ rounding ice had prevented his saving
| himself. l offer no explanation of what |
| have said that l saw and heard, but six men
| tpStlfV that UDaO miles from him
| saw the dying face and heard the dying
words of my friend Fitzgerald, and that led
them to the spot where they found him,
| He had left a letter for me in his private
room. He said that he was going to take
| legal advice and find the quickest means of
| rendering void the marriage ceremony had
witnessed. He asked ME to look after his
traps, and assured me that as soon rs he felt
| equal to taking up old associations he would
| let me know. As l read his letter l cried
| like girl.
| In his pocket-booll found his marriage GER
| tifcate and the last letter she had written him.
[ carefully dried both, and as carefully read
the latter. What a weak, miserable, cring-
| ing effusion, characteristic of the writer!
| Pages of alternate whining and bullying,
ending with this paragraph:
IF you force any claim, my church will
set it aside. That would make u scandal,
| and have never been talked about, and /
\ suOulu UG very nervous uIlueT ulSdpT6edOle
talk. 1t would be very unmanly and under
bred in you to give me so much trouble, and
| at least | have always considered you a
getleman.''
swore that she should have cause to be
nervous. / knew that such woman could
not be wounded, mentally or spiritually, and
that the blow must be struck at material
| comforts.
l left the station Immediately From the
| first telegraph station l reached l sent a
message 10 Miss Emily Gordon to her Roman
address: Fear nothing. l will grange as
you desire" / signed Fitzgeralds name.
A month afterward l was in Venice, in the
| hotel with the Count and Countess Mondella.
On the night of my arrival l made pack
age of letters beginning "My husband, with
a variety of tender qualifications, and signed
Emily Fitzerald" With these placed the
marriage certificate and the last letter. l ad-
| dressed the package to the Count Mondella
| intending that the next morning it should
| be put in his hands,
! / went to bed feeling comparatively cheer
| full My sleep was but repetition of the
sleep in which saw Fitzerald die. When l
| came to my senses | knew that l must spare
| her. L did not doubt then, and have never
doubted since, that the repetition of the
! vision was the work of an excited brain,
but the impression was so vivid
| that / felt myself bound by an oath to
! the dead to spare her. l readdressed
the package to the Countess Mondella, and
ordered my messenger to deliver it into no
| hands but her own. So with my own hands
] deprived myself of the means of nvengipg
my friends death, in obedience to his gener-
Gus and noble spirit, in contradiction to
| my own Insignificant rage and vindictive de-
sire
saw her once in the corridor leaning on
the arm of her husband, beautiful and tri-
umphant, with her false eyes Pickering still.
l wondered then why such woman should
have showered on her the gifts that the world
! holds best, and why man who, by the mere
fact of living in it, made the world better,
should be lying dead in a wilderness, heart
broken and murdered by her.