Semi-weekly interior journal. [volume] (Stanford, Ky.) 1881-1905, 1886-05-07

~On no logical grounds" he answered
briefly, and changed the subject
I have said be had tender heart; that Is
to say little. He had capacity for pro-
found and passionate love In the courss
Of our rambles we made the acquaintance
an ordinary young mans adventure-of a
farmers daughter, young girl who, not
without intention, as had afterward reason
to believe, strongly attracted US both l
was in love; IL not for the first time In my
life, as much as had ever been before
But Lucy Smiles was not girl could have
made my wife, and must do myself the
justice TO say that recognizing the fact
early in our acquaintance, l broke OF, with
some resolution, even the ssmblance Of a
q Irritation With Malet IL was different;
he fell deeply and passionately in love with
| the girl The difference in station and sdu-
| cation seemed not to affect him; IL was i'm
| possible. indeed, that an intellect such as his
could ever look for or expect the sympathy
| that springs from equal minds and on the
one occasion on which he spoke to me on the
sui. ect-for a reserve had sprung up between
us in the matter-I inferred, though he did
not state it in so many words, that he hoped
to make Lucy his wife Immediately on
leaving Oxford Shortly afterward, the
| girl disappeared from her fathers home,
| 1eTlalu CIRCUMSTANCES Throw SusplClOn Ou
Malet; nothing was nothing ould be proved
against him. but, TO tell the story briefly,
thought had reason TO believe the worst,
and believed It. All my incipient love
for the girl herself blazed up In a flame OF
passion and jealousy, and what held to be
] righteous indignation at the story Of her
| Disappearance and of her parents despair.
| Malet said very little; be gave me his word
| that he had had nothing TO do with the mat
| ter he saw that did not believe him, and he
| said no more !, on my side, broke with
him. He he'd been my best friend; on
more than one occasion he had served me
| in a way that should have won my uEdy-
ing gratitude. But what gratitude survives
a sense of wrongl And, indeed, held my
self not ungrateful, but just
What storm of memories, old affection,
remorse, swept over me matters little now.
| Where were doubts and past suspcionzi
Alas, that, living or dying, clearness Of
vision should come 10 enIghten us at the
supreme moment only. turned from tbs
window 10 the docto.
~Can see him." said; he was the best
friend had in the world"
Certainly you can see him" he answered
81 rejoice indeed that you or any one be-
longing to him should be here. will take
you " NJ OuC0 Alc uA. AAlNlc AtNNAf
but is otherwise quite quiet; 70 a ute suffer
ing, happily. Nothing can harm him now"
He led the way as he spoke, up fight
after fight OF the shallow hotel stairs, and
down long passage 10 a remote and silent
part Of the house At the end Of the pas
sage a door stood ajar The doctor pause
before we reached IL "YoI will no doubt
wish to remain with your frienl" he said
Undoubtedly, =" I answered
He gave me one or two brief directions,
then, signing to me to wait for moT2ent,
opened the door and went in
he was alone. He lay with closed eyes,
his hands spread out on the counterpane,
his head supported by pillows The night
was warm, and though the little easement
stood wide open, he seemed oppressed by the
heat, and to breathe with difficulty. He
was not changed; in early youth even his
features had been too marked TO alter read
lily; only the lines with which | had been
familiar had deepened, and abe pallor Of
mortal sickness overspread his countenance.
He opened his eyes as the doctors step
approached his bedside
What time is il" he said feebly.
About hak past o" said the doctor He
laid his hand ON his patients wrist as he
spoke, and stood fer a moment noting the
pulse There is friend Of yours here"
he said then, "who wants to see you l
have brought him up
His forehead and mouth contracted pain
fully Tor "A moment "A friend OF mInsi
he said But have no friends
came forward. His glance fell upon me
and was suddenly illuminated Frank
he cried
He held out both hands; grasped them in
mine. For a long time we remained mo-
tionless could not speak; in what words
could address him after my long silence,
And saw that he was dying.
His hold relaxed at last The doctor had
silently disappeared and we were alone. Ii
was he who spoke first you never be-
lieved me about Lucy, Frank, F" be said, look.
ing at me.
Don't speak of it," cried II know that
was wrong, utterly wrong. l want to tell
you that Never mind the rest"
@On the contrary mind 1t very much"
ne said, in feeble voice, al suspected at
the time who was at the bottom Of Lucy's
disappearance, but could never bring it
home to him / could never come upon a
trace Of her until few weeks ego, when
saw her by chance in Paris" His voice
sank and ho failed little with weakness,
but in a moment he rallied and went on.
"She was living there with some French
nan-never mind his name hunted her
up and tried to persuade her to 20 home to
Eer parents Re resented my interference
we fought and here l am"
at was THAR" cried, confounded lit was
on account of LucyP
"Poor child, poor girl" b. murmurod,
closing his eyes.
stood specifies for a while. For the
first tire realized Malet's part in the duel
Of which the doctor had spoken In face Of
his mortal malady, had forgotten for the
moment that nAlady's cause
"Wellr he said at last, as did not speak
Good heavens, AMBROSE l said, you
are the last man, yes, the last man, in the
world / should have thought would fight
duel"
He smiled little why notp he said
Il had no intention Of killing the poor
wretch who challenged me; he was safe
enough from me-"
But the sin Of it" began
@Oh, the sin Of 1.-THE sin of It." he said
"Sit down, Frank" he went on, raising his
head and looking at me with smile by the
dim light OF the candle $50 you're a par
son now, priest suppose you would call
yourself, and you are going TO save mems
souls Well, you'll do word Of good old
fellow, ons way or another. know 80 much
Of you"