The Brookhaven leader. [volume] (Brookhaven, Miss.) 1883-1891, 1885-06-11
LIFE AND DEATH.
rsrichae, :. Hans from the German.I

eyes were dim, and his gray hair fell
careleSsly over his shoulders. While
his eyes and hair seemed to be those of
u man of 90, his whole appearance
showed him to be hardly 30 Years old.
He was evidently an Amorican-at least,
to Judge from his face, for the
of an American is unmis
taxable. lie was certainly a man who
had seen great deal of the world.
~ his man has had an eventful life,
said !, in scarcely audible tone; how
should like to know the history of it"
IF that is SO, said a voice at my
side, which at once recognized as that
of my friend, Mr.. A, II can tell you
the history of this man, and | should be
if you knew man whose
history can compare with his
'No you know him, then"
81 do not know him personally, but
am acquainted with peculiar event in
his life. was in Paris at the time
when his corpse was buried "
"BurIeit'
well, not strictly speaking, bat still
something OF the kind. If you have a
half hour to spare. let US take seat on
that bench, and viii tell you the story
which created a great sensation III Pari+
several years ago.
The following is the story as related
to me by ny friend:
In room i'll Paris viii II had but one
window sat three persons. Monsieur
orlne was reading The Journal de5 De
bats. his hack turned TO the sofa, on
which sat MademoiSei,e DOrlne aud a
young American gentleman. The .oy
plainly i'll what relationship he WAS to
the D0rne family. There was on this
afternoon no happier person in AL Paris
than Philip Wentworth. Lite for him
was so full of .Oy. that he almost feared
the next day might bring a change.
What more could the future bring him.
But what could it not rob him OF:
The greatest Joy is always coupled
with sadness, with certain indeScriba-
Die presentiment of evil. Wentworth
felt this strange feeling come over him,
as he pressed the hand of Julia porlne
to his bps and tooE his leave.
Monsieur Dorine lail aside the paper
and approached him. IF the house
answers to Mr.. Cherbonneaus deScrip
tion, said be, II advise you to buy it
without delay. wOuli like 10 accom-
pany you, hilip, but | must confess |
am too much grleved at the loss Of my
little bird to help you in choosing cage.
Meanwhile do not forget that the last
train returns at O'Clock. We have
tickets, YOU know, for Sardou' new com
edy, which is to be played tomorrow
eNening"
The next morning the train brought
lhilip entworth TO charming little
town in the vicinity of Paris. A beauti-
full vista half a mile long, led to the
villa of Mr.. Cherbonneau. The young
man walked from one room to the other
then visited the stable, the beautiful
lawn in front of the house, the lovely
little wood, and after he had dned with
Mr.. Cherhonneau, settled the purchase,
and wended his steps to the depot III
order to be in time for the express
train. When the evening twilight be-
gan to set in and Paris appeared in the
distance, it seemed to the young man
as if he had been travelling year. Ar
rived in the depot, he quickly betooN
himself to his hotel where he found
several letters on his table. But he
hardly looked at the ad' resses, and
quickly changed his travelling costume
for an evening toilet.
His yearnng desire to see Madcm-
oiselle Uorine made the journey ap
pear long; at last the coach halted be-
fore the house of Mr.. Dorine. The
door was opened as Philip mounted the
h, SIlnntlxy ~al ip1-AI
him of his overCoat and hat.
''ls no one at home" he asked.
"Mr. lorine cannot see you at this
moment, answered the servant slowly.
He desires you to wait in the parlor, y
"Is Mademoisellc--'
eyes, sir.
Alone"
eyes, sir" answered the servant,
with peculiar look Philip could
hardly repress an exclamation OF Joy; it
was the first time that such privilege
had been allowed him. Hitherto his
meetings with Julie had been only in
presence of Mr. Dorine or some other
member of the family. ~ well-bred
Partisan lady makes only a formal ac
quaintance with her attianced. Philip
did not stop to consider for one moment,
He softly opened tho door of jules
room. nder the large chandelier stood
a small black coffin. A burning candle,
a crucifx and few white flowers stood
on table near by. julio Derlno was
dead.
When Mr.. TOrine heard the shrek of
anguish, which broke the solemn still
ness of the hour, he hastened to the
room and found hilip standing like a
statue in the center of the room.
It was only after the lapse of some
time that Wentworth learned the full
particulars of the immeasurable mis-
fortune which had befallen him. The
previous evening Miss lIorlne had DO
taken herself to her room. apparently
in perfect health. She had told her
maid to wake her early the next morn
ing. When the girl came at the ap-
pointed time, Mile. Dorine sat in her
arm chair, where she had evidently been
overtaken by sleep. At her feet lay a
book half open. The maid was terrified
when she saw that the bed was un-
touched, and that her mistress had not
vet laid aside her toilet. She tried to
awake her; but in vain, She was not
asleep-but dead.
Two lettcrs were Immediately sent to
Philip, one to tho depot in g., and the
other to his hotel. The former had
reached its place of destination too
late; the latter had not been opened by
Philip.
The wealth of tho young lady, her
sudden death, and the romantic court
ship of the young American, caused a
large multitude of persous to be present
at the funeral The corpse was TO be
placed in the family vault of Mr.. porine,
in the cemetery of Montmartre This