The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1884-11-06

4 uOtHluR 10 U6 QOu6. ne lOuQU InaC ETn6SG mad
started early in the morning, taking carriage
in order not to have to wait for the diligence
to Pontorson. There was nothing for Charles
| to do but pack up his things and prepare to
return to Paris; his little holiday had come to
an untimely end.
| Meanwhile Ernest Dumont was approaching
Pontorson, where he intended taking the dill
| gence. His only luggage consisted of small
valise. He was silent during the journey, to
the great satisfaction Of his bluebloused driver,
who was tacturnity itself He neither de-
manded a pourboire nor gave any thanks when
| he received one.
| Although Ernest had time enough on his
hands, he yet was feverishly anxious to get to
his destination, though he only vaguely knew
what that destination was. The great thing
was to get out of France. It would be easier
| to endure his anxiety when far away.
| The boats and trains fitted we'll, and the
same day that saw him leave Avranches saw
him safely installed in quiet hotel near Char
| ing Cross. He entered his name as Eugene
Dubois.
Once alone he entirely belied the assumed
gayety which he had shown when last with
| his friend. He threw himself into chair and
| seemed utterly and entirely miserable.
| Now that he was far from all his friends he
| began to feel the want of them. He had vol
UNFAIRLY expatriated himself; he had nten-
tionally cut himself clear from all his old ties
he thought, sadly enough, would care. He was
alone; it had been his wish to be so for weeks
past, and now that his wish was fulfilled he
| WAS more miserable than ever.
However, he had enough sense left to know
that the only way to prevent time from drag
ging along interminably was to occupy him
self. be had oIfly been in London once be-
fore; suppose he were to have solitary ram
BILE? Surely in so busy city there must be
something to distract his thoughts.
He took his hat and passed out to the land
ing. Half unconsciously he began to descend
the stairs Not watching his footsteps care
fully enough, he thought he had reached the
landing when there was another stair; the
consequence was that he fell head foremost into
the arms of an Englishman who was ascend
ing.
The shock carried them both over and Ernest
received hard blow on the head in the fall.
He was half stunned for minute; when he
recovered his senses completely he found he
was in the strangers ROOM
Hope you're all right2" said the English
man.
:" Thank you, yes; = little dizzy, that's all"
"ConfOundedly dark staircase" said the
other, pouring out some brandy and offering it
to him; its q wonder people don't break their
necks."
Both men were full of apologies, for each had
been careless The Engishman, whose name
was Seymour saw at glance that Ernest was
French, and as he knew the language well he
used IL. Ernest was more glad than he would
confess to find a sort of compatriot in the first
man he had addressed on equal terms since
crossing.
The two men chatted for some minutes, till
Ernest said he had 10 further excuse for tres
passing on the others kindness, as he was quite
recovered. However, they found they were
both going out, so they left the hotel together.
The streets were crowded, aud conversation
was difficult. To add TO their discomfort it
began to rain. They discovered that neither
had any fixed object for his stroll, so they
adjourned to a cafe for little shelter and a
chat.
They talked for some time; each was in need
of companion. Seymour was on a visit to
London from the North on business; Ernest
wanted something to keep his thoughts away
from himself He was afraid to be alone now
that he had come SO far to be SO.
The rain ceased, the clouds parted, and
white moon made the wet roofs and pavements
glisten with magical light. 1t was an en-
chanting scene, and the young men felt its
beauty. There was no need for them to hurry
home, so they str0lled along the silent En-
bankment arm in arm. AT last 12 o'clock
struck, and they mounted the steps by Water
loo Bridge, preparatory to returning TO the
hotel.
Come on the bridge and see the moon and
the lights in the water" said Seymour. "It's
a wonderful sight"
They strolled to the massive bridge, deserted
except for an occasional passenger or a late cab.
As they passed one of the recesses Seymour
noticed man leaning over the parapet
He was quite still, gazing at the water in
tently. Seymour did not feel comfortable when
looking at him, but did not consider himself
justified in speaking to him. When he had
passed him he looked round to see if he was
still as motionless as before To Ernest's sur
prise his companion leaped from his side and
rushed to the recess. He was too late. The
man was gone A dull splash in the dark
waters below told what had become of him.
In horror Seymour raised cry for help.
Fortunately, it was at hand police boat was
passing, and the wretched would be suicide
was rescued and brought to land.
When he was in safety Seymour returned to
his companion, who had watched the scene with
peculiar interest.
Let US go back" said Seymour; that hor-
rible affair has upset me-"
"Is that the way you manage these matters
in England?" asked Ernest.
I'm sorry to say that isn't the first fool who
has jumped off Waterloo Bridge, and I'm afraid
it won't be the last Don't imagine, though,
that as q nation we are given to that sort of
thing"
u hope not, at all events in that way" said
the Frenchman. 1t is ridiculous, would
be so, if there were not :. touch of tragedy in
it. Why did he throw himself into the water
when there are so many ways out of existence?"
Perhaps he half hoped he might be saved
after ALL"
He had his wish in that case" replied Ern-
est. "What will become of him now?"
"Isuppose he will 20 before magistrate. The
police have him in charge"
Ernest smiled.
ga romantic ending to terrible story, is it
not? We manage these things. at all events
better in France. heard of a case the other
day: A lover lost his mistress he opened a
vein in his arm and died quietly during the
night without a soul being any the wiser. You |
throw yourselves off bridges, while We"
For heavens sake, man, do stop your horri- |
bic stories! Let US get on to some pleasanter |
subject than that of leaving this world"
AS you wish. Here we are at our hotel. |
Will you come up TO my room for an hour? ! |
won't talk of suicides, promise you"
Seymour was anything but inclined for bed |
after his recent adventure, so gladly accepted. |
Ernest sent for some refreshments and 1T |
was past three before they separated. each de-
lighted at having found a pleasant companion. |
During the next three days they saw great |
deal of each other. Seymour discovered that |
there was some Gys;Sstt1Ty ABOUT his new ac-
quaint2::scc. He had apparently no object in |
neing in London, had no friends, did not care an |
atom about the sights. Besides this, he had |
occasional fits of intense melancholy, and was |
often feverishly anxious for time to pass.
Nevertheless, he was generally an agreeable |
companion, and at his worse he was an inter- |
eresting study. Seymour spent as much time !