The Washington critic., 1890-02-23

of his i'll omened marriage. UnfOrtu- |
nately, for Van Haubitz, the jeweler
and some other tradesmen at Frankfort, !
so soon as they learned his departure,
had forwarded their accounts to the |.
care of the Amsterdam firm: and, al
though his father had not the remotest
intention of paying them, he was in
censed in the extreme at the slur thus
cast upon his house and name. In
short, the unlucky artilleryman at once
saw he had no chance of single
kreuzer or of the slightest countenance
from his father His applications to
his brothers and TO one OF to more dis.
tant relatives were equally unsuccessful.
All were disgusted at his Irregularities,
angry at his marriage, increduous of
his promises of reform; and, after pass
ing miserable month in Amsterdam,
he set out TO accompany his wife to
Vienna, whittier she was compelled to
repair under pain of fine and forfeiture
of her engagement. Although living
with rigid economy-on bread and
water, as Van IIaubitz expressed it.
their finances had been utterly con
sumed by their stay in the Dutch capt
tai, and it was only by disposlng of
every trinkot and superfluity land Of
necessaries, too, | feared, when | re-
membertd the slender baggage that
came up with them from the boat| that
they had procured the means of travel
ing, in the cheapest and most humble
manner, and with the disheartening
certainty of arriving penniless at vi
emma. Van Haubitz told me all this
and many other details with an air of
gloomy dependency. He was hope
less, heart broken, desperate; and GER
tain circumstances of his position,
which by some would have been held
an allevi alton, aggravated it in his eyes.
He said little of his wife, but, from
what escaped him, / easily gathered
that she had shown strength of mind,
good feeling and affection for him, and
was willing to struggle by his side for
q scanty and hard-earned subsistence.
His cares and irritable mood prevented
his appreciating her attachment, and
he looked upon her as an encumbrance
without which he might again rise in
the world. He had always entertained
confident expectation of enriching
himself by marriage, and this hope,
which had buoyed him up under many
difficulties. was gone now.
81 have one resource left" said Van
II aubitz. II have pondered over It for
the last two days, and have almost de-
termined on its adoption"
"What is it?' l asked.
'If / decide upon il" he replied,
'you shall shortly know. 'Tis des-
perate one enough.
We had insensibly slackened our
pace, and at this moment the ladies
| Won Ho,,litv do
as of impatience at the interruption.
"Wait for me here" he said, and
walked away. Without speculation
upon the motive of his absence, 1 stood
still, and entered into conversation with
the ladies. We were on the quay. The
night was mild and calm, but overcast
and exceedingly dark. A few feet be-
low us rolled the dark mass of the
Rhine, slightly swollen by recent rains.
A light from an adjacent window illum-
mated the spot, and cast fiickering
CLEAN across the water. Unwilling to
refer to their misfortunes, spoke to
Emile on some general topic. But
Madame Sendel was too full of her
troubles to tolerate any conversation
that did not Immediately relate to them,
and she broke in with long history OF
grievances, of the hard heartedness OF
the Amsterdam relations, the cruelty OF
Emilie's position, her son-in-law's help.
lessness, and various other matters in q
queTulous tone, and with frightful vol
ubility. The poor daughter, / plainly
saw, WINGED under this infliction.
was waiting the smallest opening to in
terupt the indiscreet old lady and re
vert TO commonplace, when distan-
splash in the water reached my ears
The women also heard it, and at tho
same instant a presentiment of evil
came over us all. Madame Sendel sud
denly held her tongue and her breath
Emile turned deadly pale, and without
saying word, aew along the quay il
the direction of the sonnd. She ha(
gone but few yards when her strength
failed her, and she would have fallel
but for my support. There was shou
and noise of men running. Leavin!
Madame Van Haubitz to the care of he
mother, ran swiftly along the rive
side, and soon reached a place wher
the deep water moaned and surgeC
against the perpendicular quay. Her
several men were assembled, talkin!
hurriedly and pointing to the river
, Others each moment arrived, and tw,
boats were hastily showed off from al
adjacent landing place.
"A man in the river" was the reply
,, to my hasty inquiry.
1t was so dark that ! could not dis
, tinguish countenances close TO me, ant
at very fewyards even the outline o
r objects was scarcely to be discerned
| There were no houses close at hand
and some minutes elapsed before light
: : were procured. At last several boat
l put off, with men standing in the bows
: holding torches and lanterns high j
; the air. Meanwhile had questione
; the bystanders, but could get little in
formation none as TO the person [
whom the accident had happened. TIL
man who had given the alarm was re
t turning from mooring his boat to
1 neighboring jetty, when he perceive
Y a figure moving along the quay shoI
/, distance in his front The figure dis
c appeared, Il heavy splash followed, an
D the boatman ran forward. He could sc
c no one either on shore or in the stream
i but heard sound as of one striking ou
and struggling in the water. Havin
c learned this much, jumped into boz
l. Just then putting off, and bid til
l. Towers pull down stream, keeping
L short distance from the quay. The cul
c rent ran strong, and doubted not thl
|; the drowning man had been carrie
Il along by it, Two vigorous oarsme
Y pulled till the blades bent, and the boa
d aided by the stream, flew through til
l. water. A third man held torch.
|; strained my eyes through the darkness
Y Presently small object floated With
y few feet of the boat, which was raj
d idly passing it, 1t shone in the torcl
t. light. / struck at it with boat hool