Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1885-09-20
AZ LAST.


The last scene In the tragedy was en-
acted nearly twenty years ago. Oh,
there still l,ngcr on few old meo ana
women who remember tho princ'p"
actors, not Al the commencement OF the
story, but ., Us strange termination.
Sixty years ago the little village OF
Wrayton. under-Ilill was startled out OF
il usual drowsy round of existence oy
: strange DISAPPEARANCE. Young Tom
Ridewsy. the brightest, !rankest sp'ri.
in tho village, as fine and brave syenns
Eneiishman a. ever one could wish 70
see, had whispered the old, old story
into Muriel franklin's willing ears,
and youth aud maid had soiemniy
pliehtsd their troth to each other under
The fair new moon one evening IN june
Murje| was the only child Of one OF the
woman farmers Of the district, blum,
hearty. obstinate cid countrymsn, hard
hsaded As scot. soft-hearted as his
DAUGHTER herself; a man great among
his fellows at market or harvest time,
but swaycd in most other matters by
the gently-expressed wishes oil wife or
daughter.
"Thee might have looked higher,
lass" he said to his daughter, when
Tom svowed his love; 1.-The Squire
himself would ha' been glad for thee
TO be his wife,"
But he said little more as he marked
the shadow that crossed his daughter $
face at the mention Of the Squire; DC
sides, Tom was in great rcpute already
As q steady worker and energetic mas
Tor. and. on the whole, William Frank
lin reflected that he could scarcely hope
10 aiye his daughter, or his daughters
nice little fortune, into better hands.
For once the old proverb was con-
trsdicted. The course OF true love ran
smoothly Is the River Wraye itself,
and as the first signs OF winter ap-
reared the farm. house on the hillside
was filed with hustle and excitement,
for with the new year Muriel was 10
begin her new life. and although her
home was waiting to receive her, there
was much fine sewing to do, ana
eoodly store Of house-linen to be pre-
pared. A..
The village gossips had fine time.
Mother Andrews. who kept the little
general shop in Church row; Dame
Martin, primmest and fussiest of school
mistresses her husband, cobbler on
week days, clerk and choir-master on
Sundays, and in all capacities IS great
A gossip as the women; Aunt Muriel.
who must needs come.to help her god
daughters preparations-thcy were all
constantly at the farm, made ever well
come by its mistress, who, however I'M
patient she might sometimes feel at the
endless talking, always expressed her.
self with gentleness and hospitality.
Tom, as an impatient lover, thought
that time had never passed so slowly,
and, man-like, could not see the neces-
sity of the snowy piles Of linen which
his betrothed displayed with pardon
able pride. lie pleaded hard that the
wedding should be on his birthday, in
the beginning of November, but Mrs.
Franklin was firm, and Muriel knew as
well as her mother that she could not
be ready before the end Of the year.
and she, with her old-fsshioned ideas,
would as soon have thought Of letting
strangers sew her house-linen as Of
marrying before it was all finished and
ready for use.
There was but one shadow upon the
brightness of her life at this time.
William Franklin had made guess at
the truth when he limited that she might
have aspired to be the 'Squire's wife,
and, though she was as modest and un-
assuming rs even her mother could de-
sire, she could not but interpret Alright
the Sources looks and words Of admira-
ton. half yelled though they might be,
and looked upon, by himself at least,
as almost one Of his privileges, as
owner Of her fathers farm. Truth
to tell, Guy Chester had at first little
thought but of admiration Of her fresh
young beauty. There was such al
unreasonable distance between them
he, the polished, cultivated man of the
world. known, even among the fine
gentlemen Of the day, for the keenness
of his wit, the merciless satire Of his
tongue, the cool, well-bred ease Of his
carriage and manner, and she the
daughter Of one Of his tenants, simple
village beauty. Certainly there could
be but little sympathy between these
two, and Muriel was always abashed
and silent in his presence. Perhaps II
was the very contrast between her and
the courtly beauty he had flattered al
his life that made him think of her Sc
much. At any rate, the Squire nov
learned that his feelings were stronger
than he had imagined, and that he wa
deeply in love almost before he woul(
acknowledge TO himself that he fel
more than an ordinary interest in thu
farmers pretty daughter.
Ii happened thus One fair june
evening the Squire was strolling by thu
riverside, idly slashing at the flowers
within reach of his cane, the quiet sum
mer GOODNESS lulling him into reverie
Suddenly he heard the sound Of voices
and through the trees disccrned tw,
figures. His heart told him who tn
form in the shadow must be, and hi
jealous eyes recognized Toms boil
profile against the darkening sky
There was no installing the meanin
Of the scene. lie could just hes
the murmur of their voices, one earne,
and passionate, the other soft an
sweet. Then he saw Tom bend and Xxi.
Muriel eagerly many times, and, with
great oath, he turned away, as the
came slowly along, arms entwined,
the first sweetness OF their acknov
lodged love.
They knew nothing Of the jealo,
eyes that were watching them; the
know not how the mans cold, calm 0,
terror had been stirred, allowing Il
dark, turbulent passion Of his nature
assert itself.
Little did Tom think Of the dead
peril in which he stood, with the glea,
ing barrel Of a pistol scarce six feet o
hidden in the deep shadow OF the cops
nor how it was Muriel herself W
saved him from cruel death. Just
Guy Chester's hand touched the tri
ger her scarf tuttered from her han