Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1886-12-19

tCil Nuy3 DuL bU6 5tT6GJ IUhUS q QulCh lLl-
preston on his mind, yet one that he felt
TO be durable there. And then IN trice
everything vanished. The regular and
rather sonorOus breathings of old Joshua
! were audible to him once again and the
ticking of a clock N the death chamber
next door.
A longing took hold of him to get out
into the air. Why should he not do So?
DE had the latch key, which his uncle at
last had unwillingly allowed him only a
year or so before his compulsory exhit
from the household. No one need be
whit the wiser. Joshua would sleep on
just like that till dawn-and after.
Where was that shabby street he had
! just seen, either In a dream of a vision
weirder yet? He knew; it held for HIM
more than single familiar trace; he was
confident that he knew. And yet he
could not, just then, for his life have re-
| called
Still, did 1t not lie near the river, not far
from the foot of Grand street? New
| York was so much smaller then than 1t is
now that ''near the river" by no means
suggested the vagueness of locality it
would to-day suggest).
YES" decided Ernest, as he stole
quietly from the house. NO." he soon
cOntradicted himself, while walking the
still, lamplit pavement. And yet he
walked in the direction of the river.
1t was now nearly l O'Clock. The city
was silent as gravey ard-or at least
that part OF it which Ernest was traveTs-
ing. He moved on aimlessly and yet
| with some haunting, indefinite purpose.
| All the while his heart was aching with
suspense, doubt, and even dumb horror
as well. Self-reproach, too, had it's share
| IN his wretchedness, for he now drearlly
told himself that he should never have let
all these weeks go by without coming
East IN quest of his darling Clara.
Suddenly, while be moved along street
which ran parallel with one not far off
and directly Verging upon the river, he
| stopped short and gave a sharp gesture of
dismay. big wagon, deprived of one
| wheel and thus lurching clumsily on its
manned side. had arrested his sight. A
swift shudder swept through Ernest's
frame. 1t was the very wagon seen in
his dream! He cast mis- eyes eagerly
upo Il the brick houses just be Y ond. Their
dull, diney eXDanse, lighted by one or two
Pickering gas lamps, offered him new and
poignant corroborauons OF that recent
shadowy yet vivid experience.
'lps the same spoil" he murmured.
"My God! II 1t means that she is some
! where near me nOw!'
He stood dazed and thrilled for a few
seconds. Then, unconscIously, he uttered
| the one dear name-'Clara."
n lItIlO way DCSOuu WncEo ne ndu
paused the row of houses melted into a
| void. Here another street met this one at
an oblique angle. AS if in answer to his
own low EXPLANATIONS, there sounded
from that remoter Gimness a plaintive
appealing cry. And straightway after
ward TWO forms cleared the corner, one
hurrying forward and the other pursuing
it with outstretched arms. The first, as
he saw with no less speed than distinct
male the second
feminine.
She seemed q mere girl, too, as the light
struck be: darling shape.
"Fatherr' she was crying. "No-no!
not that!" and she caught the arm of her
companion, wildly trying to draw him
back.
Let me gov' shouted the man. "I
want to die! idon't care for living, now
that he's gone from me! I've a right 10
end myself If l please, and the river ill
do it. l."
He did not complete his sentence. but
freed himself and dashed off in the dark
ness.
The girl reeled giddiIy and caught in a
faint, groplng way at the coat of some
one who mad abruptly FASTENED toward
her.
''Oh, SIR" she began, hystercally to
plead, ''iolloW him-follow hm-do.
please! He's my father! He's been sick
very sick! We 1--we just here in the
next street. IL was watching him and
l feel asleep. He was stealing out OF
doors as woke up and found he was
gone. His brain is half maddened by the
lever he's mad. He-he wants to throw
himself in the river-he- On, Ernest!
It's-it's you!'
Those few last words were gasped out
in CONSERVATION by Clara Nesbitt. The
next instant she had tainted dead away in
| her lovers arms.
Luke Nesbitt killed himself that night.
! His body WAS found, two days later, at a
point OF shore midway between Harlem
and tue spot whence he had leaped into
the river, aud was fully identified.
Cl2ra's story was soon told to Ernest.
Her fathers insanity had grown into an
unrelaXing vigilance of all her acts. His
hatred of the absent Ernest had taken
such blended violence and subJety that
she could only compose her letters to her
lover in OsweEo at the dead OF night
These she had sought to post, but each
time that she attempted to leave the
house Tor this purpose her father had
sprung upon her and demanded them.
When obtained he has destroyed them.
His sale OF their home had soon after
ward occurred; he mad such dread OF
Clara deserving HIM harsh and rudely
capricious as was MS treatment of her J
that even during all his cratic business
negotiations ne forced her TO remain at
mis- size. The money obtained from the
sale Of the house he had insisted in hiding
IN the floor OF room IN their new lodg
lngs; the idea that it might be stolen from
MIN mad possessed his rapidly falling in
telligence. All in all, during these past
few weeks Clara's life had been one OF
exquisite torture. But her unhappy
parent need not have feared that she
would abandon him; on the contrary.
agonizing as it proved to linger at his
side, she would have persevered in this
dutious act under far worse forces of i'm
pediment. And at length-only a few
days previous to her strange meeting
with Ernest-a fever had taken hold of
Nesbitt. This complication of brain
trouble and febrile development had M AIDE
him indeed a mailman. Still, his attacks
had been briet ana comparatively con-
trollable, until that night when the fatal
suicidal mania had driven him forth to
his death.
There was, OF course, no obstacle now
to the marriage Of Ernest and Clara.
Ernest was rich man through his uncle's
unqualified bequest, and in after years he
made bis riches a source OF wholesome
happiness to the wife he persistently
treasured, and to the family OF children
that gradually grew up in mis- house