The Palatka daily news. (Palatka, Fla.) 1884-1888, 1885-10-13
LIFE AND DEATH.


thought, the countenance of this man
at once attracted my attention. His
eyes were dim, and his guy hair fell
carelessly over his shoulders. While
his eyes and hair seemed to be those of
a man of 90, his whole appearance
showed him to be hardly 80 years old.
He was evidently an Americana least,
to Judge from his face, for tho
physiOgnomy of an American is unmis
taxable. He was certainly q man who
had seen a great deal of the world.
This man has had an eventful life, I"
said ], in q scarcely audible tone; chow
| should like to know the history of it. y
eff that is SO, said a voice at my
side, which | at once recognized as that
of my friend, Mr.. A., Il can tell you
the history of this man, and should be
surprised if you knew a man whose
history can compare with his.
''DO you know him, them"
81 do not know him personally, but
am acquainted with n peculiar event in
his life. ! was in Paris at the time
when his corpse was buried.
''Bured."
"Well, not strictly speaking, but still
something of the kind. If you have a
half hour to spare, let US take seat on
that bench, and | will tell you the story
which created great sensation in Paris
several years ago.
The following is the story as related
to me by my friend:
In a room in Paris which had but one
window sat three persons. Monsieur
DOrine was reading The Journal des De-
bats, his back turned to the sofa, on
which sat Mademoiselie Dorine and q
young American gentleman. The joy
frIt Ton of al 81
plainly in what relationship he was to
the Dorine family. There was on this
afternoon no happier person in all Paris
than Philip Wentworth. Life for him
was so full of Joy, that he almost feared
the next day might bring n change.
What more could the future bring him2
But what could it not rob him of?
The greatest Joy is always coupled
with sadness, with certain indescriba-
BILE presentiment of evil Wentworth
felt this strange feeling como over him,
us he pressed the hand of Julia Dorine
to his lips and took his leave.
Monsieur Dorine laid aside tho paper
and approached him. IF the house
answers to Mr.. Cherbonneau's descrip-
ton, said no, 81 advise you to buy it
without delay. | would like to accom-
pany you, Philip, but | must confess |
y
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's new COM
edy, which is to be played tomorrow
evening"
The next morning the train brought
Philip Wentworth 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, tho beautiful
lawn in front of tho house, the lovely
little wood, and after he had dined with
Mr.. CherbOnneau, settled tho purchase,
and wendell his steps to the depot in
order to be in time for the express
train. When tho 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 a year. Ar
rived in the depot, he quickly bctOok
himself to his hotel, where he found
several letters on his table. But he
hardly looked at the addresses, and
quickly changed his travelling costume
for an evening toilet.
His yearning desire to see Madem
oisellc Dorine made the journey APP
pear long; at last the coach halted be-
fore the house of Mr.. Dorine. The
door was opened as Philip mounted the
steps, and the servant silently relieved
him of his overcoat and hat.
lis no one at homei" he asked.
Mr.. Dorine cannot SEQ you at this
moment" answered the servant slowly.
''He desires you to wait in the parlor"
rs Mademoiselle-'
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. A well-bred
Partisan lady makes only formal &C
quaintance with her atfianced Philip
did not stop 10 consider for one moment
He softly opened the door of jules
room. nder the large chandelier stood
a small black coffin. \ burning candle.
q crucitix and n few white flowers stood
on a table near by. Julie norine was
dead
When Mr. Dorine heard the shrek of
anguish, which broke the solemn still
ness of the hour, he FASTENED to tho
room and found Philip standing like Il
statue in the center Of the room.
1t 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 DOrine had be
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 APP
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 I'M
touched, and that her mistress had not
yet laid aside her toilet. She tried to
awake her; but in vain, She was not
asleep-but dead,