Bridgeton pioneer., 1884-01-24

Your worship was the last man in our
mouths. You remember being here one
day, long ago now, when [ sang the praises
of Miss Churchillr
"Perfectly," replied the poet ri went
with you to the final dress rehearsal, and
you put into my hands the letter she left
| behind her."
% | was saying so as you came in. That
brings the history up to the end of her con-
nection with the stage. Well, everybody
knows what a mystery that looked. Not
a soul had an idea where she disappeared
| to-"
| " know" said the poet. "I met her
afterward. She married a fellow named
| regarthen-disreputabl fellow, who was
dismissed the army; insisted on using such
fearful language at the mess table that the
other men wouldn't stand him. Well-con-
nected fellow-I believe he's the last of one
of the Oldest families in Cornwall-but an
awful blackguard, so Tm toldn
WELL upon my word," said Lorrimer,
=" that's pretty sort of cove to forbid his
wife, with his dying breath, to go upSn the
etage."
Mr.. Lorrimer's theory carried him that
length.
"Dead" said the poet. els he dead?
y
With such a fortune as he conld leave her
she won't be long without husbandn
" Fortune!" echoed Lorrimer ''She
hasn't any fortune Bless your soul, she's
as poor as a church-mouse. Living in
boarding g-house-and a very seedy board
1ng-house it is, [ can tell you-just off the
Strandn
g suppose he made ducks and brakes of
everything said the poet. my father had
place at Gorbay years ago, and they had
a good deal of land in those days-the Ire
garthens. Poor thing!"
The poet held no malice, except for his
reviewers Outside his verses he was a
harmless man, and had not the least desire
to hurt anybody. He had long ago been
able to forgive Mrs Tregarthen for snub-
bing him, and he was sensitive to tale of
beauty in distress-as poet ought to be.
Lorrimer told his story of the interview
between himself and the lost star of the
stage and everybody agreed that the dead
Tregarthen of Mr.. Lorrimers Imagination
was the last sort of person who had right
to have his dying wishes gratified When
the conclave parted and the poet walked
into the Strand, he dived into the street
Lorrimer had mentioned and read the door
plates with some little trouble in the gather
ing dusk until he came upon the boarding
house. He remembered the brilliant and
stately creature who had swept so haughtilv
away from his impertinent presence at Tre-
garthen, and felt unhappy to think that she
was housed in this frowsy carayanserai
He had seen her twice, and she had certain
ly ill-treated him, and yet he felt such an
interest in her as few women had inspired
him with. She was poor and in grief and
widow Mr. Pnno1J
street slowly and sadly, and thought how
full of trouble was the world, and unused
on Death and the Reviewers, and such
grisly themes.
1t was no business of any mans, but two
or three people who knew him caught the
poet in the act of leaving that street after
dark, with certain marked air of furtive
adventure If any hopes OF seeing Mrs
Iregarthen again drew him that way, or if
ne merely went to moon in the neighbor-
mood because it induced that curious sense
OF the abolition of moral responsibilities
WIN regard to language which is SO valua-
PIE to poets, would seem to be uncertain.
When you relax your brains for the manu-
Iacture OF verses and allow them to flow
out where they will, diffuse and devious, q
remembrance of some person of the oppo-
sue sex serves as q sort of center for the
tlaes, dlssipating or rallying them quite
apart from the will of the patient.
it mad grown into winter time and the
RAINY night had fallen upon London, and
the streets had q fungous odor in the rain,
and were inch-deep in mud, when the poet,
bearing his demon with him, slashed past
the lodging g-house-top-b booted, with his SOM
0rero picturesquely tapping and his long
cloak plcturesquely flying in the wet wind
winch blew up from the river He was
scathlng reviewer, and would have thrown
his annual income into the Thames to have
secured stately rhyme to "viper;" but
just as he passed the boarding house door
IL opened, and the merest glance assured
nm that Mrs. Tregarthen stood there at
tired for the street. A second or two later
the wind caught the door, and slammed it
nolslly. The poet moderated his headlong
pace, paused and turned. Mrs Tregar-
then's tall and graceful figure went fiutter-
ing Strandward
Ronald Marsh knew perfectly well that
II Is not counted gentlemanly thing to
follow lady without her knowledge and
consent, and he piqued himself on being
gentleman almost more than on being a
poet. Heidi not think it honorable to dog
a lady's footsteps, and it was no affair of
his to know whittier she was bound ON foot
on night so inclement. While he thought
thus he followed Mrs. Tregarthen, regulat-
ing his own pace to hers. This was shame
full, and he turned away, but only for
second When he looked again the flutter-
ing figure was gone, though there was no
opening on the street to right or left, and
he had seen her outlined like a wavering
Silhouette against the Strand lights mere
fraction of time ago. A special puddle lay
abreast OF where he had last seen her, no.
ticeable because it caught the lights of the
bright street beyond and reflected them like
mirror laid aslant. He kept his eyes up
on this landmark, and though as he grew
closer the light faded from it, he knew that
he had not lost the place He was sure
with keener pang than anything but the
reVleWs had hitherto caused him-that he
had not lost the place; for where the wind
beaten figure had disappeared stood a swing
ing door, and above it the triune globes of
gold. Povertys storm drum is mast high
all the year round
The young man drew into the shadow of
corner, and watched the door, with no
memory Of his scruples of half minute
back. 1t was not the business of the mo-
ment to analysize the motives which moved
MIN, but they were nine-tenths made up OF