The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1888-04-27

write 10 Assunta to tell her of her
sisters death. She came at once. Per-
haps the sight OF the beautiful home he
had prepared for his lost wife touched
her heart, for, though she sternly re-
fused to see Jasper, she declared her
Intention OF adopting the child. She
would not exchange one worl with
him Al business was transacted
through the kind friend who had stood
by Giulia's death-bed. Assunta prom
ised to adopt the child if Jasper wolld
renounce all claim TO her-if he would
allow her TO bring her up after her own
fashion, in perfect ignorance of him and
all belong ns To him, believing that her
parents were dead; moreover, he must
promise never to claim her ~
He was kneeling by his dead wife's
side when these conditions were
brought to him, and the dumb white
lips could not open TO say, "Love her
because she was mine" the cold hanIs
could not be clasped in supplication
to him, the mothers heart could not
speak in the closed eyes. The only
human being who coull have saved
the little one lay there, ''stone dead and
still - and as he looked at the beauti-
full face, so calm in the majesty OF death,
he turned to the bearer of the message
and said:
Tell Assunta di Cynthia that in pro-
portion as loved my wife dislike the
child, and that l give her entirely to
her, never wishing to see her or hear OF
her again"
At the same time he was just He
offered TO settle a certain sum OF money
on the little one, more than sufficient TO
educate her and to dover her. As
suntas pale face flushed crimson when
she heard it.
81 touch that accursed English gold,T
she cried. Il would see all Venice
perish first ~ -
Without another word she took the
child in her arms and left the house.
Even IN death she refused TO look on
the face OF her sister again.
Then came for Jasper long blank.
He remembered in after years that he
had stood by the grave OF his wife he
remembered falling upon it with loud
bitter cTy-then came a blank. The
roses and passion-tiowers were in fuu
bloom when that happened; when he
recovered his senses, the roses had
wlthered, the passion-fiowerS were
dead, and the winter was coming. lie
was lying, not in his own house-wise
doctors had forbidden that-but in one
OF the large hotels in Venice, fighting
for life. IIe lived, but the world was
never the same to him again. His
youth, ms love, his hopes, his heart
all lay in the grave of his young wife.
He was never the same When he WAS
strong enough TO travel, he returned
home, and his parents were almost b.
side themselves with grief at his chang
ed face @s
"A fever caught in Italy," explained
it all Lady Brandon sighed mournfuI-
ly over it. "Ah, If he had but been
content to stay at home!"
Then he realized what he had done.
what he had suffered, what he had lost.
He was not ashamed of his marriage.
but he shut up the sweet sad love-storv
in his heart, guarding it as a rliser
guards his gold-not to have savei his
life could he have spoken Giulia's
name. 1t seemed impossible to him
that any one should ever understand that
sweet mad love OF his How should
they? And he could not tell them.
He could not bare that wound to any
human eve. II would have been easier
for him to plunge n sword into his heart
than to talk of Giulia and Venice. He
shut up the sweet sad story in his heart
AMI lived on it, People callel him
proud and cold, reserved and silent:
they never dreamed of the burning love
beneath the ice; there was no one who
ever suspected him of wild passionate
love and a sorrow that would he his
until he died. No one knew that he
had loved as few loved, and that his
heart lay buried in dead wife's grave.
Time passed on, he grew stronger; the
full tide of health and strength returned
to him, and with it came a longing to
take his share in the full active life
around him.
MAKE feel the wild pulsation that felt
before the strife,
When had my days before me, and the tumult
OF my life"
That was his one cry-work, toll,
labor-anything that could teach him
TO forget. He plunged into the hottest
fray OF political life; his speeches rang
through all England; men named him
with deepest admiration. He was a
power in the State; he spent his days
in work, his nights in study. Did he
forget? At times when busy members
round him We're disputing vehemently,
he found himself standing on the Rialto
at Venice, gazing at a sweet girl-fIc..
He found himself under tho VIM. with
roses and passion-fiowers clustering at
his feet, white hands warmly clasped in
his own, and golden head lying on his
breast. They wondered, those who
watched him, why at times he rose sud-
denly with a sitting cry, fiinging out his
arms as though the breath OF life failed
him. They thought the passion of his
own words moved him. How should
they guess OF the sweet short love and
the tragedy which had ended it?
Once, and once only, he was induced
to enter theatre; it was when one of
the finest living tragedians was to ap-
pear lie never thought OF asking what
the play was, but when the curtain rose
and he saw Venice, he almost swooned
like dead man, smitten with terrible
pain. Still no one knew the cause; it
was all buried in his own heart he
himself was the sepulchre of his love.
Time passed on Sir Francis grew old
and feeble; his one longing was to see
his son married before he died The