Waterbury evening Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1887-1895, 1890-08-11
THE ATHELSTONS;
OR
VICTOR AND vANQUIsHHD,
BIZ MARY CECIL HAY.
OR

was to be found IN the nelghbOrhood TO
which / was soon coming. For that,
reason I did not answer the letter, wish
ing TO bring the news myself"
But-but, Col. Stuart, stammered
Dorcas, show can it be? The adver-
tisement was for the next Of kin OF Eus-
tace jeffrey"
eyes, answered Mr.. Esdaile, with a
nod and smile, "and it was Iwho had
it inserted-another proof, isn't il, of the
smallness of the world2 Let me tell you
now what know of Eustace jeffrey"
he said, as they all sat listening in the
light and warmth. "I was sitting, one
day, alone in my tent. writing home,
Just after deciding to leave the diamond
fields altogether, when a man entered in
haste and fear, and begged for a little
water for his master. 1 happened to
have little, which was then boiling to
purify, for what we bought was some-
times the very flthiest. By sight
knew this man as the servant Tor per-
haps more properly the partner) of a
young-looking, handsome man who had
only lately landed and joined us, yet
who had had already quite unprece-
dented and exceptional success"
"He always succeeded in everything,
I think" put In Marjorie Castillain,
her bright eyes flashing angrily at the
thought
"But wait, Marjorie" interposed
Mrs. Esdaile, gently, "until you hear
the end"
"The end" resumed her husband,
quietly, "would totally shatter any ones
idea Of success for him. do not sup
pose il could fall to any mans share to
witness such death more than once;
but hope my own may happen before
have to be present at such another"
"Was there no repentance ?" asked
Col. Stuart, with his arm around the
child, who stood intently listening to
this story of his fathers death-the
father whom he never had, and never
could call so.
"No repentance. There was literally
no power for itaso all-engrossing and
All.dominant was the awful horror.
There was not even faith enough for the
very weakest thought of penitence.
There was only the frantic, hopeless cer-
tainty that unknown horrors awaited
him-horrors whose grasping power it
was too late now to elude-and wild,
ceaseless crying to know what these hor-
rofS could be. And, with these, always
that burning, feverish thirst, which
could not be appeased. Death had be-
come familiar enough to me there-sls
You may Judge when tell you that be-
tween thirty and forty died among us
every day-but such q death as this,
thank God could never grow to be ia
miliar. It was so long. coming, too
Just as if the strength of despair in the
man could really keep the dreaded visit
ant at bay. For sixeeen days he fought
with fierce strength against the coming
of death, and Of that doom which he
feared after death. I had taken the wa
ter to him at first flor ] would not keep
the man, even while I prepared it, in
simple pity. Being used to the fevers
that were rife among us, and
strong enough always myself, !
knew that should be of
use but from that time I hardly left
Jehrey's tent. I sent away his servant,
or partner, or whatever he called him
sell, and the Kaffers to stay with nay SER
want for could not bear that they
should hear the frantic cries of the mis-
cradle dying man. 1t seemed, too,
even from the very first, that Me liked to
have me with him. His eyes would follow
me eagerly about the tent, and he would
call me with the passionate fretfulpess of
O child, il he lost sight Of me. But from
the moment he heard my name, and L
in the vain attempt to soothe him-spoke
OF home and friends in England, this
grew even more persistent. When he
was conscious his fear of my leaving
him was like that of nm infant terrified
by the darkness. When delirious, he
would spring from his mattress and hold
me in q strong grip. In some moods he
would defy me to leave him alone in tor
ments. In others, he would appeal to
me, sobbing in the utter weakness of his
abiect terror. But never wished to
leave him. All I wanted, both for him
and for myself, my servants brought me
to the tent-door and my very anxiety
kept me beside him my great anxiety
to tempt him to cry and PRACTITIONERS
far Off he felt-for the mercy and com
passion of his God"
Lima" said Marjorie, softly, "you
remember that other death-bed? How
gladly Eustace jeffrey would have
changed with his-victim."
eve can feel sure of that" replied
MIR. Esdaile, gravely. "No greater
agony did man ever witness than this
sinners agony of fear, on which. now
and then, fell another agony, that of
feeling what might have been. As I
told you, from the very first he could
not bear me to leave him, simply, 1
thought, from the fact of my being an
Enghshman like himself; but after he
heard my name, he was still more un-
willing TO lose sight Of me. He knew
how my name was connected with his
former life; and he knew my friends
were among those he had injured. His
only relief was in telling me of all this.
1t seemed as if he must speak of his
crimes and faults to me, because he
could not speak of them to his Judge.
saw there was hardly one act of his life
which he could look back upon without
horror, and I wondered specifically Gas I
listened through those long, awful
nights why such power had been given
to this man. Then thought what he
might have been, if these powers had
been used for good. He would have
been one to rise among men, and to
build himself q name and O reputation.
As It was, could only hear how every
selfish plan of his had worked the end