St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1885-05-17
THE DEATH-TROT H.
Philadelphia Call.

ILL DhA IL l. O1 LII
Philadelphia Call
''Ainslie, want to have talk with you
come and SMOKE" said Wilfrid Denver,
a young, fair-haired lieutenant of the 42d
regiment of the Highland brigade.
He yielded to his request. The pipes
were lit and soon they passed from lighter
topics to one of deeper interest, when Will
frid told story to his friend of romantic
first love, which had made of his hard life
in the Crimea tender, sweet idyl.
"YOu have not told me her name," said
Ainsle.
cit is Constance"
"And your marriages. the day fiXed?"
''No such luckE' calculated Wilfrid. eve
should have to wait for some years for my
promotion. But" continued he, with an
embarrassed laugh, sit is rather premature
to talk OF wedding when my fate is not
yet decided. l think she loves me, though
never asked her the question until came
to the Crimea."
ooh, you are not engaged?"
'NO, expect to get her letter to-mor-
row-the letter which will tell me all.
Ainslie, it it comes too late, will you lay it
unopened upon my breast and bury it with
me?'
The captain turned his dark eyes affec-
tiOnately on his comrades face as he re-
spOnded:
''If it comes to that, yes; but, old fellow,
don't be down in the mouth; hope for better
things"
The battle was over. A victory was
gained for England; but at what cost
With ullavailing sorrow in his heart Paul
Ainslie gazed upon the scene, for his er-
rand there was sad one. He came to
seek among the slain the body of his friend,
who had fallen. He found the still form.
He looked down Oh the face last seen so
bright with life, and the tears gathered
slowly in his dark eyes. Heheld an I'M
opened letter which had just reached the
camp. 1t was addressed to Lieut.. Denver,
in woman's writing.
Perchance it contained the words of love,
which had been so eagerly desired yester-
day. With deepsigh, Paul laid the letter
on the young officers breast; and thus, with
his beloved's words close to the pulseless
heart, Wilfrid Denver was laid to rest in
his rude grave.
Five years after the Crimean war is over
Paul Ainslie mingles with the crowd at
fashionable ball in the height of the Lon
don season. Such gay assemblies are not
much to his taste, but he is drawn to this
gathering because the idol of his heart is
among the guests. Constance Beaumont is
singularly beautiful. Paul has been dane
ing with her. The delight of her presence
overwhelms him. Bending until their eyes
meet he whispers: "Come with me-"
In the cool, dimly lighted conservatory,
with the splash of falling water mingling
with the dreamy strains of music, he asks
her one low, earnest question: Constance,
will you be my OWN" Her heart answers
him. They are quite alone, and even as
she signs TREMENDOUSLY he has her in his arms
close against his throbbing heart.
She draws away from his touch with a
shudder, exclaiming, wildly: paul! Paul!
you must not love me! Seek not to unite
your life with mine, for the shadow of
death is on my path"
Paul smiles superior to her fears. ''My
darling, if you love me I will never relin-
quish you. Death comes to all lives, but
it will not fall sooner On either of us be-
cause those lives are one,'' he says.
1t is Paul Ainslies wedding day. The
sunlight streams through the stained glass
windows casting gorgeous tints ON the
church floor. The ceremony begins; the
solemn words are spoken. Paul stretches
forth his hand to plight their troth, while
Constance's slight fingers futter into his
palm. He is about to press them in
warm clasp. when an icy hand steals in be-
tween and a shadowy form stands before
the BRIDE Her arm falls to her side. An
awful pallor comes upon her face.
With lips apart, with eyes distended in
horror, she confronts the phantom; then,
with one long, wild cry: ''Wilfrid! Will
frid!' she falls like a stone into Pauls
arms
The bridal guests crowd round her; there
is hum Of voices a whispered murmur of
sound but Constance knows nothing, sees
nothing White and still, with closed eye
lids like the dead, she remains, and thus he
bears her from the church. In the same
state she is borne from the carriage and
laid upon her bed. Her lovers heart seems
breaking. He has tried all restoratives in
vain. He throws himself upon his knees
beside the couch, and clasping her mani
mate form to his throbbing heart in par
oxysm of despair, he means: ''Oh, Con-
stance, my beloved, come back to life and
mew
AS if in answer to his prayer, she moves,
her dark eyes opening upon him with
wild gaze of fear; then there comes pas
sionate burst of weeping, which shakes her
from head to foot.
Rising from the couch, she totters to-
ward him. stretching out her arms. ''Take
me, Paul, my love, for the last, last time"
she cries, in voice quivering with pain.
He draws her to his heart; he holds her
there as though nothing again shall sever
them, and thus she tells him the STORY of
her life.
Scarcely has she spoken ere Paul knows
their doom is sealed. That phantom form
is before him, that icy grasp seems to freeze
his blood with nameless horror. She has
loved Wilfrid Denver. The letter he had
laid on the young officers cold breast con-
tanned her acceptance of his offered hand.
When the news of his death reached her
she had resolved to live unwedded for his
sake, but after years had passed Paul's de-
voted love won her heart and in spite of a
warning presentiment, she accepted him.
''Constancew cries Paul, ''dO you seri-
ously mean that this phantom is to sever
us?"
She interrupts him. dearest, look
here" Taking from her desk a folded
paper, she puts it into his hand. 1t is Will
frid Denver's last letter. On the first page
are traced these words:
''It may be that ere I receive your an
swer-the answer which will bring joy or
desolation-I shall be lying dead upon the
battlefield. Yet, should that be my fate, I
believe that even in death l shall know if
Won rot,1n nv love And NV darling T