Fairhaven herald. [volume] (Fairhaven, Wash.) 1890-????, 1891-06-23

manL IN when the IDEA nad come to ner OF
presenting herself to that discourteous
man; yet, since now there IL no turning
back
1T Is moral story" she stammered; ~
story where it is shown
THAT virtue is its own rewardr asked
the journalist, laughing, while he began to
make notes in regard to the letters which
he was arranging in an elegant letter file.
THE theme could not be more amusing.
And the title, please3''
THE Last Love-" murmured the I'M
happy girl, in spent voice. Believe,
signor, that have written it with soul
with feeling. There are none of the usual
descriptions of things not honest, as are too
much the fashion nowadays; but you will
see that in my story there is truth from
the first to the last page, and"-
Il am perfectly convinced of what you
tell me, dear young lady" said Anderni,
absent mindedly, without noticing the WIS.,
ible physical sufferings that changed her
pure little face. But, you see, yours is
just the sort of story that does not suit q
newspaper"
Then you take away every hope from
me-" said the girl, swaying. placing in
stinctively her hand upon her heart.
For PHYS sake, don't talk in that SEN
timental way We will see it some other
time. These young ladiesl All with the
mania to write, while so many hands are
needed in trades-in woman's work. More
over"- He could not continue. The
young girl stretched her arms toward
him as If in search Of aid stammered one
word-only one-the first that we learn as
babies: Mammal And turning quickly, she
fell stiff upon the same divan where, few
minutes before, she had dreamed Of COM
fort for her poor old woman.
Anderni gave a stifed cry, and rushed to
her. The poor girl breathed no more; her
eyes were wide open, glazed, and her lips
contracted.
"Quickp' he shouted, opening the door.
Quick, physician" All the staff has
tened into the little sanctum, and the
young man with the weary eyes ran to the
girl, raising her poor lifeless head upon his
shoulder.
''She is dead" said Adolph Lewis, after
having felt her pulse. AT any rate, will
run for the doctor"
''She is deadl she is dead" they all ex-
claimed, shaking their heads. Only the
young man with the tired eyes did not
speak, but busted himself with composing
decently the dress and damp hair of An
nina
"Come" cried Anderni, turning to Fabio
Leoni, the reporter of The Crepuscolo.
Don't stand there spellbound before the
girl. Take this manuscript and send it to
the composing room. 1t would be better
that you should take it there yourself
Have it set up at once, with paragraph
about it, Tell the facts briefly"
And as Fabio Leoni remained dazed,
looking at the girl:
Look here" cried the chief editor, agi-
tated, convulsed. This girl has brought
me work of hers, The Last Love- and
has died while handing it to me. Do you
take in the Importance Of this factf 1t is
a solemn, mysterious thing. We must get
out a double edition of the paper. You
can announce the story at once rs a refined,
honest thing, destined to interest our fair
readers-but make haste-the deucei All,
here is the physicianl Doctorp'
All gathered again around the corpse,
and the word aneurism passed from one
mouth to another.
1T is necessary to inform the coroner
and the Misericordia at once" said the doc
tor, beginning to write.
All returned, more or less affected into
Tue euiJoflb room 10 prepare the nufnDer
which was to come out at noon. Only the
weary eyed young man staid, unobserved,
to contemplate the dead girl. Obi at last
he recollected. The little waxen face that
was before him resembled that Of his only
sister, dead Of consumption year before,
when he had gone on The Crepuscolo at
fifty lire month.
The brethren Of the Misericordia came,
in midst Of a crowd of idlers who wished
to learn what the facts were. But no one
knew, not even poor little old woman in
Via Panica, who had heard the three
strokes Of t.fe bell Of the charitable com
pany, and had crossed herself with devo
ton, praying for the peace Of whoever, at
that moment, was dying, perhaps alone.
on the street, unkissed.- by f.
Cavazza for Short Stories