Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1885-04-25

The day of Sir Victor's funeral was
one of the mosi wretched / can re-
member. The rain descended in tor
rents, the wind walled and moaned
| through the trees. Some weeks after
ward heard that an old gypsy woman
had forced her way through the crowd
of muurners and had stood looking
down into the grave where poor Sir
Victor slept
There was no WILL Kate would
| allow no hand but her own to touch
her husbands papers. She must have
| found some stange revelations there,
| Tor at times her grief was pitiful to
see. Little Paul WAS now master Of
Erlesmere 1t was arranged that, as
soon as affairs were settled, Kate and
her child should leave the scene of
their sorrow. and go abroad for a time.
They did so. And, all together, we
once more resumed our happy Vene-
tian life.
Two years passed away, and still we
fingered in our sunny home by the
blue sea. We heard constantly from
England: but nothing had been dis
covered rs to the dreary tragedy of
Erlesmere Hall. People were begin
ming to forget it, or to speak of it as II
thing of the past At first amongst
ourselves it had been Il aconstant theme.
Kate did not avoid all mention of her
grief; she often spoke OF her dead
husband, and even in his praise.
Little Sir Paul prattled away about
papa. but / do not think he retained
much recollection of him.
Allan Charlton wrote at last to say
that he thought it was time'we return
ed-he had managed my fathers affairs
during his absence. So in the spring
we went home again. Kate would not
go to live at the Hall; she said it would
always be haunted for her. and she
could not bear it. She made her
home once more at the Grange, and,
but for the presence of her golden
haired little son among us, the sad
past might have been dream. The
Hall WAS let to strangers until Sir
Paul attained his majority; but Lady
Erlesmere could meyer be persuaded
to enter it again.
Another year passed on, and one
morning there came letter addressed
in strange handwriting to Lady
Erlesmere. Kate. opened it with
smile, wondering who her new cores
pondent WAS. She neither wept nor
tainted when she read it. She gave it \
to my father, and then went quietly to
her own room.
Il am dying now, my lady," this
strange letter began, "and | must tell
you the truth, or | shall not sleep
quietly in my grave. Long years ago,
when Victor Erlesmere was IA poor
man whose father made a scanty living |
on the turf, he knew and loved nv
daughter Lena. He met her first on a |
race-course. She was then about sew |
enteen, and one of the most beautiful |
girls In the world. She was my only |
child. [ loved her as mothers do an |
only daughter-no words o'n tell how |
dearly, had been we'll taught in my |
early days, and in her turn she was
we'll taught too. No lady ever read or |
wrote better than my Lena, no lady |
was ever more beautiful and more gen.
tie Victor Elesmere loved her. II |
he had remained poor man, he would |
have married her; but fortune and |
title came to him, and he left her. We |
heard he had married beautiful lady |
in his new district. My daughter
almost broke her heart. She vowed
she would see him again before she
died. He had wealth and a lady for his
bride, still he could not forget my
child He sought her out again. The
end of all was that, with her child in |
her arms, she sought rest in the depths
of the cold river fearing less to face
death than to encounter the reproaches
of those who loved her, We gypsies
are strong in love and strong in hate.
kissed my daughters dead face, and
| swore to avenge her death. When
she was buried, / had nothing else to
live for. walked many weary miles
done need not tell you. | avenged
my child Icannot tell if there will
be mercy for me. Hate and revenge
are deadly sins, they tell me, Has his
sin any name? BEFORE you read this,
my lady, / shall perhaps have met him
face to face. tell you this that no
one else may be even suspected OF my
crime"
NY father locked that letter in his
private bureau. Kate never asked for
1t nor named 1t. She did not join us
that day, and we respected her sorrow.
Never again did Sir Victor's name
pass her lips. When the little baro-
net, as we used to call him, reached |.
his tenth year, my father insisted that
he should he sent to public school.
He declared we were spelling the
child and making "an old woman" of
him.
When Kate was once more alone,
Allan Charlton, faithful and true to
the one love OF his life, came again.
This time he did not plead in vain.
It was not the radient girl whose smile
had been gleam OF sunshine who
blessed him. with her loye; it was a
beautiful thoughtful woman who had
seen much suffering. whose heart had
anhed with bitterness worse than
DEATH
Happier days came for her, she is