Morris tribune., 1884-03-19
IN DUMB AGONY,
Geo. W. Simpsons "Fatal FLYNN"
the.Cream-Pitcher"
Secret
[Chicago Tribune Lakeside Musing."]

lChlcaSo tribune "LakeSlde MuSlng.J
II do not doubt YOU"
Esmeralda W. Pike spoke these words in
clear, ringing tones, but beneath the reson-
ance of her voice there was faint quivering
the mere suggestion of a sob-that would
have told to an observaut listener the old,
old story of love that was shattered forever,
Of beautiful air castle in whose halls stalked
only the grim spectres of desolation and woe,
and from whose turrets a great sorrow kept
silent vigil over a world that could never
again seem bright OF joyous. Be a girl ever so
proud in spirit, be her nature even of the stoica
unyielding kind that can bear disappointment
and adversely without tremor of the muscles
or culver of the nerves, there is yet one
time in her life, one moment of supreme hor-
ror and grief, when the sunlight of happiness
seems to have faded forever from the horizon
of her existence and the black pail of an
agonizing doubt which has at last become a
terrible reality falls upon the CHASTITY corpse
Of dead love-a love cruelty murdered by
the one who above all others should have
cherished and protected 1.-THE man at whose
bidding it has grown and expanded like a
beautiful flower that needs only care and at
tention to be forever thing of joy.
1t is a solemn thing for any man to win
the love of pure and trusting giFl-a love
that knows no boundaries, that exists only
for the one man in all the wide, wide world,
at whose heart it is offered up as an eternal
incense and that when turned aside from the
object of its alteration burns with even
fercer flame than before, and leaves behind
it only blackened ashes and the charred
corpse of dead and gone affection.
George W. Simpson knew this. He knew
that Esmeralda's love for him was not an
ephemeral fancy, but strong, unwavering,
you-can-chew-my gum-while lam reciting
passion that would gather intensity and
force as the years went by, and that when
the autumn of life had come would, like the
ripened grain, be even more beautiful and
enduring than in the days Of its lusty youth
1t was this knowledge that made the task of
parting from Esmeralda such hard one.
But in spite of his tight pants George w.
Simpson was a man in whose nature there
was strong element of duty, and he felt
that no matter what present sorrow might
arise from such action, it was best that
the tie which bound them together--the
solemn, holy tie of plighted troth-should
be sundered, rather than that greater grief,
a more blighting misfortune, should fall upon
uuelu ldCST Ill ule. AIu 50 Wueu uo uttl COlu
Esmeralda whispered the words TO her
softly as they stood there beneath the linden
trees that soft, autumnal evening, the signing
wind that waited subtle aroma of corned
beef from the next house kissing the fair
cheek of the girl and toying with the mass of
golden hair that sat upon her head like @
crown-there had been in his voice a certain
something that told the girl more plainly
than could any words that behind the studied
calm of his demeanor, far back in the wood
shed Of his soul, there was a secret-a dark,
fatal fy-in-the- pitcher secret of which
she knew nothing.
"What is this terrible mystery that en-
shrouds your action, darlingw asked the girl,
looking up to him in the dumb agony of an
awful grief. Given though we are to be
separated forever, it seems to me that have
yet right to know what it is that has desc
lated our lives Can you not grant this, my
last requestW
HNo," he says, in q voice that ishoarse with
agony, II dare not tell you"
"But demand an answer to my question"
she says, imperiously.
He regards her a moment in silence, and
then, just as he turns to go, she clasps his
arms and looks up to him with a pitiful
pleading in her brown eyes.
"For the sake of our dead love-" she whis-
pers, ''tell me-"
Bending over the frail form, George whis-
pers in her ear one little word:
"Chilblains. u From cat the Brink" by
Murat Halstead.