Lancaster daily intelligencer. [volume] (Lancaster, Pa.) 1864-1928, 1889-03-23

stand afar of, divided by an impossible gulf
from this simple human craving, which was
crying to her, unheard and hopeless, across
tho darkness
CHAPTER VIII.
A month after tho first performance Of
"Elvira" Kendall returned TO town on frosty
December afternoon from the Surrey lodg-
ings. on which he had now established per-
manent hold. He mounted 10 his room.
found his letters lying ready for him, and on
the top Of them telegram, which, as his
man servant informed him, had arrived about
an hour before He took II up carelessly,
opened 1t and bent over IL with start Of
anxiety. It was from his brother In law.
Marie Is very Ill. Doctors much alarmed.
Can you come to-nightr He put It down in
stupefaction. Marie III The doctors alarmcdl |
Good heavensi could he catch that evening
traini He looked at his watch, decided that
there was time, and plunged, with his SER
wants help, into all the necessary prepara-
tions. An hour aud half later no was speed
ing along through the clear, cool moonlight
TO Dover, realizing for the first time, as he
leaned back alone In his compartment, the full
meaning Of the ncws which had hurried him
of. All his tender affection for his sister,
and all his sitting sense Of something unlucky
and untoward in his own life, which had
been SO strong In him during the past two
months, combined to rouse In him tho black
est fears. the most hopeless dependency.
Marie dead-what would tho world hold for
himf Books, thought, ideas wcre they
enoughi Could man live by them II all else
were gonel For the first time Kendall felt a
doubt which seemed TO shake his nature 10 It's
depths.
During the journey his thoughts dwclt In
dull, sore way upon tho past He saw
Marie In her childhood, In her youth, in her
rich maturity. He remembered her In the
school room, spending all her spare time over
contrivances Of one kind or another for his
amusement. He had vision Of her going
out with their mother on the night OF her
first ball and pitying him for being left be-
hind. He saw her tender face bending over
tho deathbed Of their father, and through a
hundred incidents and memories beauti-
ful, all intertwined with that lovely self for
getfulness which was characteristic OF her,
his mind Travelled down to an evening scarcely
month before when her affection had once
morc stood frail, warm barrier between
him and the full bitterness Of great renun-
citation. Oh, Mariel Mariel
II was still dark when he reached Paris.
and the gray winter light was only Just dawn
ing when he stopped at the door OF his
brother-in-laws house In ono Of tho now
streets near tho Champs Elysees. N. do
Chateauvieux was standing on tho stairs, his
smoothly shaven, clear cut face drawn and
haggard, and q stoop In his broad shoulders
which Kendall had never noticed before.
Kendall sprung up tho steps and wrung his
hands. NJ do Chateauvieux shook his head
almost with groan, In answer to tho broth
cr's inquiry Of eye and lip, and led the way
upstairs into the forsaken salon, which looked
as empty and comfortless as though its mis-
tress had been gono from IL years instead Of
days. Arrived there, the two men standing
opposite to each other In the streak Of dull
light made by the hnsty withdrawal Of O
curtain, Paul said, speaking In q whisper,
with dry lips:
"There is no hopc-the pain Is gone. you
would think she was better. but tho doctors
say she will just lie there as she Is lying now
-till-the end"
Kendall staggered over TO chair and tried
to realize what no had heard, but 1t was I'm
possible, although his journey had seemed to
him one long preparation for tho worst.
what Is it-how did 1t happenr' he asked.
"1nternal chill She was only taken III
the day before yesterday, and tho pain was
subsided, and thought she was better-she
herself was so cheerful and 20 thankful for
the relief-but when the two doctors came In
again it was to tell mo that the disappear
ance Of the pain meant only tho worst
meant that nothing more can be done-she
may go at any momentn
There was silence. NJ. de Chateauvieux
walked up and down with the noiselcss step
which even few hours Of sicknS,s develop
In the watcher, till he came e2d stood before
his brother r-in-law, saying, In the same pain
ful whisper, "You must have some food,
then will tell her you are here"
"No, no; l want no food-any time will do
for that. Does she expect mei'
"Yes; you won't waiti Then come" He
led the way across little nnte room, lifted
curtain and knocked. The nurse came, there
was little parley, and Paul went in, while
Eustace waited outside, conscious OF the most
strangely trivial things, Of the passers by in
the street, OF wrangle between two gamins
on the pavement opposite, Of the misplace
ment OF certain volumes In the book case be.
side him, till the door opened again and NJ.
do Chateauvieux drew him In.
He stepped ovr the threshold, his whole
being wrought up 10 he knew not what
solemn pageant OF death and parting, and
sio ieoltJ no room
was flooded with morning light, frosty De-
cember sun was struggling through the fog,
ths curtains had just been drawn bach, and
the wintry radiance rested on tho polished
brass OF the bed, on the bright surfaces Of
wood and glass with which the room was
full, on the little tray Of tea things which the
nurse held, and on his sisters face Of greeting
as she lay back smiling among her pillows.
There was such a cheerful home peace and
brightness in tho whole sec ne-in the crack
ling wood fire, In the sparkle Of the tea
things and the fragrance of the tea, and In
tho fresh white surroundings Of the invalid;
II seemed TO him incredible that under all
this familiar household detail there should
be lying in wait that last awful experience
Of death
Marie kissed him, with grateful, affection
ate words, spoken almost In her usual voice.
and then, as he sat beside her, holding her
hands, she noticed that he looked pale and
haggard
"Has he had some breakfast, PAUL. Oh.
poor Eustace, after that long journeyi Nurse,
let him have my cup. there "a some tsa lsfti