Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1885-03-13
VIRGINIA, FRIDAY, MARCH 10, 1885

I young men guess what their chance words
had wrought Little could they think that
in speaking of Sir Mervyn Ferrand's death
tney had, perhaps, wrecked the happiness
o. two lives. My heart was full of grief and
lear, but | believe bore myself bravely.
In spite OF sucn reStoratlves We could
administer, Pniippa's swoon lasted for a
considerable time. | troubled little about
Tat TACT Indeed, to me it seemed we'll that
sYncope should have supervened and, for a
tine, banlshed the dreadl I'll memories which
had so suddenly invaded her brain. Could
such thing nave been poss BILE, | would al
most have wished that ner lnSenS billty would
continue until we reached Seville. But it,
was not to be so. By and by she sighed
deeply, and her eyes opened. Consciousness;
and all its dreaded sequence was hers once
more.
1spoke to her, but she made no reply. She
turned her eyes from mine; she Stunned my
gaze; she even seemed to shrink from the
touch of my hand. During the remainder
of that dreary journey not one word passed
her lips. She lay with her face turned to
the side of the vessel, needless of the curious
chances from fellow passengers, needless OF
my whispered words of love; needless of ali
save her own thoughts-tnoug which led
her, l trembled to picture whittier
Through all those long sultry hours, while
the wretched steamboat plowed its way up
the broad muddy stream, l sat beside her
trying to find some way out of our sorrow
Alas! every road was stopped by the i'm
passable obstacle of Philippians knowledge OF
what she had done. For she knew it, l was !
certain That look in her eyes had told me
so much. The duration of her insanity had .
been so short that l could gather no comfort
from the fact that by some merciful ar
rangement maniacs who recover their err
ing senses are troubled little by the deeds
they have done in their moments of mad
ness | felt that in my wife's case nv on w
homo w n ap6pSVOr nv to brip
her to my own way of thinking; that is, to-
consider herself unaccountable by any law
human or divine, for her actions at the
time. But l doubted if her sensitive, i'm.
pulsive nature could ever be induced to take
this view of her act. l doubted, had she
not been the woman l loved with a pas.
sionate love- if l could have quite absorbed
her from the crime with the remembrance
O. her words ''Basil, did you ever hate .
man?' still with me.
Yet strange anomaly. l would, in fair
fight, of course, have shot that man through
the heart and have loried in the deed. b 1t
then Philippe was a woman, and had ne
not been the woman l loved l might ha We
shrunk from the one who, even in her ms ID
ness was urged to take such fearful V, M
geance.
SMILED bitterly as I thought how 8 chantra
breath Of wind had tumbed my house eff
cards to the ground l smiled almost tri,rr,-
phantly as I told myself that, come what
might-misery -shame-death-I had wcga
and h Id for week the one desire of my
life. Nothing could deprive me of that
memory
Home at last! Still silent, or answering.
my questions by monosyllables. Philippe was
brought by me to our once happy home in
Seville. NV mother with arch smiles of
welcome on her comedy face, was at the gate
of thu patio ready to receive u.s. AS she saw
her a kind of shiver ran through my poor
loves frame. She let my mother embraces
and caress her without any display of re-
ciprocal affection.
"Philippa is ILL.," I said, in explanation
81 will take her to her ROOM"
I led her to the apartment which my
mother had in our absence fitted up for us
1t was gay and beautiful with flowers, and
there were many other care III little evil
dences of the hearty welcome which was
waiting us. Philippa noticed nothing. l
closed the door and turned toward nv Wife
She looked at me with those wondrous:
dark ewes, which seemed to search my very
soul "Basil," she said, in a low, solemn
voice. tell me-tell me the truth. What
had done that night?'