St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1890-02-17
ALMOST A TRAGEDY.
'Dying-dead, perhaps! And by my
handp'

handp
Pearce Hamilton strobe restlessly to
and fro, his footballs on the carpet only
breaking the stiffness Of the night, with
bowed head and an expression OF min
countenance.
"Thls uncertainty crazes me, it drives
me mad! My God, il only knewp
. Up and down, up and down, he strobe.
oblivious of everything save the burn
ting thoughts that agitated him, needing
not the tinkled, warning notes of the
little clock On the mantelplece as it
chimed ten. eleven, twelve.
''Heaven have mercy on my soul!-
rest her sweet spirit in peace! God
knows didn't intend itp'
The words were spoken with effort,
and as they were gasped out the speaker
relapsed into deep and agitating revery,
never stopping in his tireless stride.
At a glance the man, as he paced to
and fro, was handsome and intelligent
looking. His form was tall and comedy,
and his bowed head shapely and hand
some. He was young, not yet in the
prime of manhoo |. but the stamp of
dissipation had already set it's furrow-
ing seal GDon his brow, and the once
clear, bright eyes were now bleared and
strained with the traces of vice.
But now, in revery. his express ion
was painful to behold, remOrse and ir-
resolution possessing his whole being
and occasionally strange light of de-
termination flashed through the mists
of thought. Then ne would stop sud-
RI ,,ir frn
something lying on little table by
which he constantly passed. Scattered
on the table in confused pile were a
lot of papers-newspapers sheet of
half-written letter paper upon which
the inky pen had fallen and made a
great spider-lke blot; an open watch
charm, encasing the miniature of a
young girl-face of bewitching lowell
ness. and a yellow hand-satchel
through the top of which shone
as he paused and glanced at the minia-
ture upon the table.
"This terrible uncertainty! Great
heaven, l must end it!' He reached
out his hand to grasp the shining pistol
hilt.
The little clock chimed out its silvery
note, telling the hour of one. The plant
i've little chime seemed to strike an I'M
known chord of the mans nature. With
half-audible sigh he drew back his
hand, an expression of calmness that he
had not known in years stealing over
him. He turned and sank into a large
chair which sat invitingly before the
bright, glowing fire.
The music of that one little note
seemed to carry in it a voice of comfort
ing hope, thrilling the half-wrecked
form with strange emotion.
Not dying-not dead! 1t cannot be;
it is not sop
Hope was there-a despairing suicide
was stayed. The shining pistol still
CLEANED forth from its hiding place.
and the unfinished letter yet flutter ed
beneath the inky pen. But the man
thought not of them noWi His strained
eyes no longer flashed fiercely, wildly,
and shade of softness and calmneSs
was slowly melting the hard, harsh feat
ures. Hope had conquered
The lamp on the table burned dim.
Its Pickering was scarce distinguishes
bic from the fluttering tongue-fiames
which Sputtered forth from the CHEEKY
fire, and reflected fantastic pictures on
walls and ceilings. sparkling ghoullshly
in their glee.
Motionless, with arms resting on
the wide armchair, his chin buried In
his two hands. and gazing tixedly in the
glowing Goals, Pearce Hamilton sat in
thought. His thoughts must have been
pleasant, for glow of warmth over
spread his haggard features. They
wandered back to the old home, with its
green fields and fragrant orchards, with
its lowing herds and merry harvest
sone-back to the dear old loving moth
er, to the patient and kindly father,
and to a proud and trusting sister, with
her glad. ringing laugh and rOlicking,
fun-loving ways. lie thought of the
long winter evenings, when they had
sat together, as he did now, looking for
pictures in the great wood fire; of
the air castles they had seen in the dart
ing flames and sparkling GOALS and as he
recalled these boyish, happy times, the
CRATE before him seemed to grow larger
and broader, the mantle higher and
wider, and the fire to crackle louder.
There were the great dog-irons, and the
shovel and tongs. with great kettle |
seething and boiling at the end of the |
crane. There at his side sat little sister,
with the poker in her chubby fingers |
pointing out her fairy fire pictures.
knitting. while she hummed a low, |
sweet tune, pausing now and then to |
smile at the fairy fancies of her two |
loved ones; while father, with the old |
Bible on his knee, peparing to read the |
nightly chapter, recounted the events of |
the day.
Then the flames spurted and flick |
cred, and, twinklIng, the scene changed. |
He saw young man and lovely girl. |
They were walking together in grassy |
field. The girls face was wonderfully |
like that of the miniature on the table, |
with violet blue eyes and sun-kissed |
golden leckS, cherried lips and dimpled |
cheeks-a rOguish expression, half |
saucy smile.
The two walked slowly. They talked, |
but their words Were few; they spoke |
i'll looks. They were lovers.
promise me you'll be true" said the
youth. as falteringly he touched the
tips of the dainty fingers with his own.
"PromiSe you'll remember me while |
Pm away"
The roguish blue eyes glanced up to
his; they answered truer, more sweetly
than voice or word.
The little clock chimes two. Only a
momentary relax of the gaze, and the
futtering tongue-lameS usnerd on an
other scene.
This time the figure in the chair sees
great multitude of people. Men,
women and children. great and small,
rich and poor, honest and crafty. all
eagerly intent upon the same object. |
1t is wonderful fair. and all are intent |
upon the great race which is about to
be run. The crowd is excited, and spec
tators elbow and push their ways to
points of vantage with difficulty and |
danger. Here are two bootblacks quar- |
reling for chink between the railing
boards, there fine lady stretching her
neck striving to catch a glimpse of the
fleet racers, yonder fakir CRYING the
latest sensation of the day, with vend-
Ors of candies and sweets rushing
wildly about as if their lives Deepen ded
upon selling ont before the race began.
But over wonderland here the flames
seem to seorch the eyeballs of the form
in the chair-are the turfmen, the slaves
to the vice of game. They are of all
classes and of all appearances, from the
polished wearer of diamonds, who
wagers his thousands, the flashy looking
but penurious and besotted professional.
II.