The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1885-02-11

JON the music. 10 hear Pauline sing rs
1aultlesSly as she was playing, yet to
sing IN the same subdued manner as on
that fatal night. So fully prepared |
was that with breathleSs emotion l
waited until the song came to the ve.y
note at which it finished when once be-
fore | listened to II. So fully prepared.
that when she started wildly TO her feet
and uttered once more that CRY of hOr-
ror. my arms were round her in mo-
ment, and | bore her to a sofa close by.
To her. as well as to me. all the oc-
currences of that dreadful night were
being reproduced. The past had come
back TO Pauiine-come back at the mo-
ment it left her
What the reiiuX might do eventually
whether it would be a blessing or 4
CURSE had no time to consider. All
my cares We're needed by Pauline. Nv
task was terrible, l had TO hold her
down by main force, 10 endeavor in
every possible way To SOothe her and
prevent her cries, which rang SO loudly
that l feared the neighborS would he
alarmed. And all the while She Strug-
gled with me, StroYe 10 repuiSe me and
regain her feet. as certainly as If could
read her thoughts | knew that whateV-
er had happened formerly was once
more before my eyes. Once more she
was being held down by a strong hand.
AA2bSN AAht4N tlI tlAE SsAAllC ana once
more her struggles We're gradually be-
coming feebler ard her cries growing
fainter. 1t needed only for the latter
10 SINK at last INTO repetition OF that
dismal moan to make the picture, so
far as she was concerned. complete. The
only difference was that the hands now
! laid upon her were loving ones
All things up To the present situation.
ana al that l naTrate after the terminal
/ ton of this chapter / expect TO be believ-
ed. do not say that such events and
/ condolences are of every day occur
renee. Had they been so, | should have
/ no object in writing this tale. But do
( say this, all else save this one thing |
4 could prove to be true, if not by direct,
/ by circumstantial evidence; all else can
be explained either simply or scientific
/ ally; but what follows l can only give
my own word for. Call ii what YOU like,
/ dream, hallucInatlon, overheated i'm
! aglnatlon-cau Ii anything save inven-
/ toni shall not be annoyed. This is
I what happened.
Pauline at last lay still. Her moan
{ had sunk into silence. She seemed once
more TO have lost all consciousness. NV
one Idea now was to remove her as
! speedily as possible from this fatal place
/ All sorts of strange thoughts and specu-
+ lauonS were thronging my brain. All
T sorts OF hopes and fears were shaking
/ me. What would the explanation be-
j if ever l could get it?
/ MypOor darling lay still and peaceful.
( | thought l would let her rest so for a
/ few moments before | carried her out.
/ | dreaded what waking her might mean.
&c. took her hand and held 1t close in
mine
The candle was on the mantelpiece
| behind me. 1t threw little or no light
INTO the front room, the foldng-doors
OF which were only partially open-the
half behind the couch on which Pauline
lay being closed. 1t was, therefore. i'm
/ possible for me from my seat beside her
To look into the front room. Indeed. as
/ sat there my face was turned from it.
L held my wife's hand for few
seconds. and then strange undefinable
feeling crept over me-the kind of feel
ing sometimes experienced in a dream
in which two persons appear, and the
dreamer cannot be certain with which
ones thoughts and acts he Identifies
himself. For awhile | seemed to have
dual existence. Although perfectly
aware that | still occcpied the same
seat, still held Pauline's hand in mine,
| was also seated al the piano, and in
some way gaZed through the half-open-
ed doors into the other room, and that
room was full of light
Light so brilliant that in glance L
could see everything the apartment con-
tanned. Each article of furniture, the
pictures on the walls, the dark curtains
drawn over the window at the end, the
mirror over the fireplace, the table in
The center. on which large lamp was
burning. | could see all this. and more,
For round the table were gruaped four
men, and the faces of two of Tie party
were well known to me.
That man who was facing me-lea1l-
ing across the table on which his hands
rested, whose features seemed full OF
alarmed surprise, whose eyes were fixed
on one object a few feet away from him
that man was Ceneri. the Italian doc
tor. Pauline's uncle and guardian.
That man who was near the table on
Ceneri's right hand-who stood in the
attitude of one ready to repel apostolic
attack, whose face was fierce and full of
passion. whose dark eyes were blazing
that man was the English-speaking
Italian, Macari, or, as he now styled
himself, Anthony March, Pauline s
brother. He also was looking at the
same obieet as Ceneri.
The II I'm the backgrounds short,
thick-se, I'm, with a scar on his cheek
was a stfSnger to me. He was look
ing over Ceneri's shoulder in the same
direction.
And the object they all looked at was
ing out of his chair, and whose hand
grasped convulSiyely the hilt of dag
ger. the blade of which was buried in
his heart. buried | knew by blow
which had been struck downward by
one standing over him.
All this saw and realized in second.
The attitude of each actor, the whole
scene surrounding was taken in by me
as one takes IN with single glance the
,,rrrT,,rt a7I rtsaaniDUnf !. MIXTURE Then
| dropped Pauhne's hand and sprang TO
my feet
Where was the lighted room? Where
We're the figures | had seen? Where was
that tragic scene which was taking
place before my eyes? Vanished into
thin air. The candle was burning dim
/ u behind me. the front room was in
dusk. Pauline and l were the only liv-
ing creatures in the placel
1t was a dream. of course. Perhaps,
under the circumstances, not an unnat-
ural one. Knowing what ! knew al
ready of the crime WHICH had taken
place here; feeling sure that in some
way Pauline had been present when it
was committed; excited by what had oc-
1 CURED o-night-Pauline' strange walk,
! her sudden bursting into song, the very
/ song | had before heard, that song with
! the dreadful ending-it is no wonder
! that | imagined a scene like this, and
/ taking the only persons | knew who
were in any way connected with my
/ poor wife. brought them into the life
I like vision.
/ But given that a man may dream the
/ same dream twice, perhaps three times,
/ there is no record of his dreaming it as
often as he willed. Yet this was my
I case. Again | took Pauline's hand, and,
/ after few moments waiting, | felt the
same strange sensation and saw the
same awful sight. Not once, not twice,
but many times did this occur, until,
skeptical as | was, as even ! am now IN
such matters, | could only believe that
in some mysterious way | was actually
gazing on the very sight which had met
the girls eyes when memory, perhaps
. mercifully, fled from her, and reason
was left impaired.
II was only when our hands were in
contact that the scene came before me.
This fact strengthened my theory. l
felt then-I feel now, it is the true one.
/ What peculiar mental or physical or
ganiZation can have brought about such
an effect, | am unable to say. Call it
cataleptic, clairyoyant, anything you
will, but it was as | relate.
Again and again / took Pauline s
hand, and as l held it looked into that
brilliantly lighted-room.
Like the motionless figures in tab
; tedu UtrGnt, again and again, without Q
change of attitude or expression, | saw
; Ceneri, Macari, and the man in the
background looking at their victim
, The appearance of the last named
! studied very closely. Even with the
agony of death on his face / could set
{ he was supremacy handsome. His must
, have been a face that women love tC
! look upon, and even through the hor
Tor of the vision, painful thought
! came TO me as / wondered what nigh
j have been his relations with the CIR
who saw him suddenly struck down.
i Who had struck him? Without /;
j, doubt Macari, who, as | said was stand
2 ing nearest him. in the attitude of on
aHcrantirtr On attack Ills hand rninh