The Sunday herald. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1866-1887, 1886-04-18
AM BROSE MALET.


This evening, turning over an portfolio, In
search Of document Of which was In need,
came upon a note dated some fve-and-
thirty years back. l had not forgotten its
contents, but was unaware of its existence;
aud as glanced at II now my eyes grew
dim with memories.
"Dear Merridew," II ran, "your letter
panied me, Of course; you meant 1t to do so,
presume. But II is no matter. You know
my philosophy-that the sum of human
things comes even in the end. Once more,
you are altogether wrong about Lucy.
know nothing of her, and had nothing to do
with her disappearance. You do not be-
lieve me we'll, that Is no matter either
go up by the first train to morrow, and we
shall not meet again. IL you care to write,
my home address will find me. God bless
you, old fellow you will take my blessing
for what you think it worth.
AMBROSE MALET."
No, | had not believed him, and did not
write. My eyes grew dim with memories as
read the note now. laid it down and fell
into thought. had but just come from the
death bed of an old parishioner, who had
passed away in peace. To parsons, as to
doctors, familiarity with death presently
begets certain Indifference. But that note
recalled death bed that must always re-
main one Of the most poignant memories of
my life. Yes, until my own hour shall
come, the hour that can least forget is that
which held in it the death of the man who
had once been my best friend.
More than thirty years ago was making
fortnights tour in the Belgium. | had
lately been ordained to curacy, and was
II. H.: Il, Ill.
| ing young fellow in those days, holding
serious views of life, and though young for
my years, had the fullest sense of the dig
nifty, no less than the responsibilities, of the
sacred profession had lately entered. My
| old aunt, who lived with mel had lost
| both my parents while still child-thought
me the best boy in the world, and pettsd me
as though were girl. Well, was con-
| ceited and presumptuous, no doubt; some
thing of a prig too, perhaps, as new-iledged
curates are apt to bel have had plenty of
| experience with them since then-but not a
bad young fellow on the whole. To doright
myself, and TO set everybody else right,
seemed to me the most important thing in
life and the first part of the proposition,
at any rate, is not a bad formula for man
to start with on his LIES career.
had set out on my travels alone, and
picturesque Belgian scenery, found myself,
on the evening of the third day, supping in
the big hotel of little village lying among
hills and woods. was supping alone at the
end ofthe long table of an empty sale Il
manyer. A number of holiday folk from a
neighboring town had come to dine, and de-
parted silence had succeeded their clamor
the room, lighted by single lamp at one
end of the table, seemed abandoned to
shadows and moonlight, and to me, when a
young man entered, and calling for coffee
and cognac, sat down in the circle of light
just opposite to me. He was a man of about
thirty, with a pleasant and remarkably
clever face and, presently falling into con-
versation with him, discovered he was the
village doctor. He was a native of the
place, able to give information, of which
was in need, concerning the surrounding
country; and We were engaged in talking
with my travelling map spread on the tabl.
between us, when waiter entered and ad
dressed few words to my companion in Q
low voice.
"Excuse me for a moment, (" he said, turn
ing to me cOurteOusly, "there Is sick mar
up stairs who requires my attendance.
shall not be gone many minutes"
In less than quarter of an hour he re
turned, and sat down opposite to me again
but he did not at once resume our conversa
ton. He sat with his hands clasped behind
his head, gazing before him in silence.
"a sad case" he said at last, letting hi
hands fall to his side; "a life thrown away
A young fellow wounded MORALLY In a duel
the doctors in Europe could not save him
lie won't live through the night"
SIN a duel!" | said, surprised. Sucl
things, so far, had lain outside the range
my experience.
"Yes, with some Frenchman. They la,
come here across the frontier. Such affair
are not uncommon hereabout, but the,
rarely terminate fatally. The other fellow
has made of. This one, by the bye, is
countryman Of yours. Stay, have hi
name somewhere"
He fumbled in his pocket for a notebook
and abstraoting card, handed 1t to me acros
the table. read the name | let the car
drop.
"Good God ~ | said. "Ambross Malet.
"Do you know him p said the doctor.
IL know the name--it may be anOthe
man, answered, In profound agitation
SIS lie young-a big, loose limbed man, wit
marked features, a large nose, dull brow
hair lying straight across his forehead, an
the kindest, the most genial smile magma
bleY'
"Your description answers in every par
tioular," said the doctor, "sxcept, indeed
as regards the smile, which have not seen
lie looks sad enough, poor fellow. He
Young, about your own age, should think.
lie looked at me with q mOmentary humol
GUS CLEAN that seemed to say: "ln all othe
respects as unlike you as possible. lie liza
gray eyes and wears no beard on his littl
finger is green signet ring. H. you are
friend of his shall be glad. | asked hil
to day if should send to any one, and h
replied that hs had no relations and not
friend in the world that would come to him.
. The tears rushed to my eyes; | could n,
: help It. rose, aud, walking to one of til
long windows, stood with my back turne
. TO the room, looking out on the moOnl
garden.
y Three years before, at Oxford, Ambro;
Malet had been my best friend. lionel
man, a solitary soul, he had sought me OF
through one of those contradictions tn,
Z sometimes provoke and cement the Hrme
friendships. Hswas little known PERSONAL
at Oxford, yet made his mark at once as
d man of powers so unusual that everythin
might be expected of him. The expectatio
was founded on miscOnoepti0n OF his cha
acter; and yet perhaps not. Who sha
(, say since death came at six-and-twenty
| kOlVt Tue pIoDioih hitci itS oWh ioSh'oh'
prodigious and unfailing memory, an almo
Incredible facility for acquiring and assimil
ting knowledge, were combined with one
the strangest and most original minds hay
ever come across. lie took, without apr
cable eifsrt, every honor that Oxford mas
=. offer, and he took them with absolute ind
ference. knowledge, and always more of Il
= knowledge that no acquired with such cas-
seemed all that he desired. lie read f
hours, not as the bookworm reads, or the Q
binary student, but with prodigious, d
vouring curiosity, an Unsuitable oravin
until in one direction or another he reaohs
the llual limit and faced the blank beyon
AT such times, as learned to know, he f
into dependency that lasted sometim
for days then, rousing himself. he won
start again on some other track, to arrive
the same result. His mind, say, was OF
Y Of the strangest and most original la