News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1888-01-05
NV husband is dead" it said.

|
was drowned i'll drunken frolic. I
cannot pretend much grief; but do not
come to see me for week. After that
as you choose.
For week [ remained alone; then I
sought her side. So long a widow, in
fact, and living as she did among stran-
gers. No delay was necessary; brt for
the crime that rested upon my consciA Apce
l should have been happy; but, alas IT
could not forget the deed that I had
done. Vainly I argued with myself that
I had rid the world of an incumbrance
that [ had saved Isabelle from base
| tvrant-that the man was but curse to
himself. Despite this sophistry, 1 saw
the writing on the wall that gave my
deed its proper name. Blood red-it
cleaned before mel Muldori Murder!
Murder! Yes, was a murderer! And
| though Isabelle was to be my own, /
was miserable!
The day of our was,sN aame. We
went together to III Bsssh with two
friends only. She wore Sswhite dress
and white blossoms in her black hair.
How beautiful she was.
Before us stood the clergyman, ven
cradle man with long white locks. He
began the ceremony thus:
Clearly beloved, we are gathered to-
gether in the sight of God, and in the
face of this congregation to join togeth-
er this man and this woman in holy
matrimony-"
There he paused. The book dropped
from his hands. I saw all eyes fixed
on something behind me, and turned.
There stood the policeman had passed
as l left the wharf, and the next momen
his hand was upon my shoulder, and he
said:
"You are my prisoner!"
[ came to myself in perfect darkness.
| was lying on bed of some kind, and
rs recalled what had happened | had no
doubt that it was the pallet of a prison
cell; but what had occurred, where was
my bride, my Isabelle? What did she
know? How did she regard me? Alas,
I could not tell. I put my head upon
my hands and wept bitterly.
It was very desolate, very wretched.
[ had no words for my misery, and the
darkness was intolerable. Suddenly l
remembered that I had q habit of keep
ing matches in my vest pocket. If I
could find my clothes might at least
see what sort of place [ was in. |
felt about and soon laid my hands upon
my vest. Matches were indeed there.
[ struck one 1t lighted but short dis,
tance, but things seemed more familiar
than l expected. I struck another. A
lamp stood ON the table lit it and saw
my own room. It was exactly as usual.
NY engraving tools were upon the table.
T Hn OF ba
block lying there. 1t was the Sultan
and Lady Miranda mutually astonished
at each others appearance. [ rubbed
my eyes and shook myself. Then I
felt under my pillow for my watch. It's
hands pointed to twenty-five minutes
after twelve.
I had been asleep for twenty minutes,
and l had had queer dream. had
rescued no distressed woman.
L had known no Isabelle had
wooed and won no one, and, thank
heaven, l had not murdered anybody.
1t was all the work of the pretty pho
tOgraph colorer at the opposite window,
and perhaps of my cunts magical
rhyme. - -.sr---ss-7 -7----~---,
Never was mortal man more thankful |
than when had fully mastered this
delightful truth, 1 rg'urned to bed |
again, and this time slept dreamlessly.
I saw the pretty girl next day, and |
was interested enough in her to dis |
cover who she was She was Miss |
Jones, and her "sensibility" was not,
like that of Sir Charles Grandison's sis
ter, "equal to her charms" besides, she
was engaged to o young hair-dresser. |
She was not my fate, after all, and l
suppose I was mistaken about falling in
love with her at first sigh; at all events,
1 recovered rapidly.