The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1888-03-10


the most stubborn believers In a moment
| fell victim to credulity. felt vague,
but none the less positive assurance of
some event about to befall me which was
destined to change the current of my whole
life. OF its precise nature had not even
a glimpse, but it was a strange fancy con-
nected with hopefulness rather than mis-
giving. Did l not already know the
worst? Surely, any change, no matter
what must be welcome to mel Neverthe-
less, at the outset strove to stife it as
the promptings of childish superstition,
oFs yet more probably, a symptom of moral
deterioration, perhaps even of brain soften
ing. Despite all my efforts, it would
whisper in my ear like still small voice
day and night.
One morning | woke with this idea
more yividily impressed on my mind than
ever; and at late hour, as usual, rose and
dressed for my solitary midday meal l
heard. strange noises in the adjoining room
and clearly distinguished the unwonted ac-
cents of my native tongue. Two English
ladies had bespoken rooms for the weeks
stay. Only few days had elapsed since
such an announcement would have failed
to awaken the faintest interest in my mind.
The case was otherwise now. felt sud-
den craving for congenial intercourse with
my unknown fellow-eountrywomen.
To brace my nerves for the interview
drank more deeply than usual, but the
excitement of anticipation secured to me
the full possession of all my faculties. L
entered the saloon; the two ladies, seated at
the open window, were silently admiring
the prospect In foreign land in general
and in an out-of-the-world place like that
in which | was now staying in particular,
the sight of fellow ow-cOuntryman is welcome.
Within half an hour we were on terms of
cordial intimacy. The two ladies stood in
the relationship of aunt and niece. The
former, though somewhat advanced in life,
was still a comely dame. The years of the
latter could barely have reached quarter
of a century. Without any pretentions to
regulate beauty of features, Sylvia, for such
was her name, was undeniable prepossessing,
and an intellectual and amiable type of
countenance proved faithful index to her
moral and mental qualities Both were
evidently women of culture and refinement.
On this memorable evening, which mark
ed new epoch in the lives of two of the
party, the truth of the adage "In vino
veritas" was strikingly exempli6ed. In
the course of conversation my companion
expressed natural though well-bred curl
osity to learn the motives which could
have prompted an educated Englishman
like myself to seek living tomb in these
mountain solitudes.
My heart, which had so long borne the
burden Of its silent zeal, burned within me,
and spoke its secret sorrows unreseryed-
ly. Little by little l unfolded the sad
story of my whole past life. | spoke the
truth, the whole truth, nothing but the
truth. And my confidence was simply re-
paid by the rapt attention and unaffected
sympathy of my listeners. Nor did omit
a timid reference to that strange foreshad-
owing of coming crisis in my life which
had lately taken so mysterious hold of my
imagination. To my surprise they ex-
pressed less incredulity than 1 anticipated.
Each, in turn, narrated some startling story
of a kindred character, drawn from per-
sonal experience or founded on the testi-
mony of reliable friends and acquaintance,
in proof of the credibility of presentiments
in general. Not till late hour of the
evening did we part company, with mu-
tual promise to meet early next morning
for stroll before breakfast.
I do not pretend to explain tho phenom-
enon, but that night went to bed, for the
first time in ten years, without my usual
"night-cap.' Yet there stood the fatal
narcotic by my bedside, powerful enough to
plunge most men into Lethean torpor of
twenty -four hours duration, but which had
only the effect of drugging my over-excited
brain for couple of hours disturbed repose
at the most. Neither can claim the
merit of resisting the tempter. [ simply
forgot it. 1t was as if some good angel
had spread an invisible wing around me,
and my evil genius had momentarily de-
parted.
Next morning l awoke early, and more
refreshed than was my wont. None of us
failed to keep our appointed trust. Gentle
reader, as | cannot impart to you my own
eyes were withal to see the incredible fact,
SO shall l not complain of your hardness of
heart if you withhold your belief from my
bare assertion. Yet wise man once said,
81 believe it because it is incredible For
ten long years had never once dispensed
with my ''stirrup-cup" on risingo morn
ing; and yet it Is fact that my oblivion of
the previous evening was repeated on this
very morning. left my morning draught,
my ''pick-me-up" untouched on my dressing
table, and sailed forth with brisk step
and smiling face to greet my fair compan
ions, l had again literally forgotten my
remedy-my chronic poison
Nay, more; encouraged by the unobstrusive
but ever ready sympathy of my now con-
slant companions, never once relapsed
into my former habits Of excess during the
whole of the ensuing week. Having the
house entirely to ourselves-for the season
was now far advanced-we naturally be-
came inseparable. Together we eajoycd
our daily walks and EXCURSIONS, shared the
same meals, held our long and even more
sympathetic and confidential tete-a-tete in
a snug corner of the public sitting-room.
It caused none of us the least surprise when,
at the weeks end we felt as if we had never
been strangers to each other.
TO one Of us, at least, the idea of part
ing, perhaps forever. became almost unsup-
portable. Forgetting my former present.
ment, / had now become prey to the daily
incubus of an impending farewell Yet I
was not in love Long since had I taught
myself the bitter lesson that celibacy, in its
dreariest aspects and phases, was my pre-
lot. was more than what society
calls "a detrimental" | was literally ''an
Such at least, was the stern
Judgment whichmy self-scrutinizing consci-
scienc had finally an irrevocably pronounced
against myself. Ny morbid sensibility and
quick self-consciousness had, as it were,
branded me, to my own eyes, with the stig-
bitter browmark-of social Cainl
But the eyes of love are proverhially baud
aged, or rather love heholds its objects
through colored spectacles.
The last evening had arrived which we