The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1892-12-25

he lived at the hall; he was not in
/ holy orders
I Perfectly right" and the friar inclined
/ his head Sir Adrian lived at the hall over
| there" He waved his hand to the right.
! And old Earl Of Grantchestsr-Bartrsm
held the castle. He was gay cavalier who
stuck at nothing, and Was "a proud and
naughty as if be had been a saint" Here
the frtar sighed deeply. Sin and suffering.
young man, 60 hand In hand. It Is your
work, as il was mine, to remember that
precept and to inculcate f. on others.
tried my best-b=t alas failed myself.
Listen 70 my tale and remembern-he en-
tended bony flnRer-'remember you are
pledged TO my assistance
Il will help you" said Adrian Graham,
simply and earnestly.
when Adrian Graham lived at the hall
and bartram was at the castle, ofhciated
| OF your old Priory church. We called is
the Priory in those DAYS. There were a
few OF us located in this house-it has been
| altered since my day, however, all but this
room and one other, OF which | will speak
presently. Sir Adrian had married abroad.
He brought his young wife to the hall-a
| gay place at that time, | can tell you-and
| for a while there was much feasting and
merriment and gaiety kept up there. We
saw the pair often as they came and went
! for you know the road leads past the priory
1 " buS ndAi-Nulo was aDDOluDeu confess
| sor to the young lady, Sir Adrian's wife.
She was a lovely girl, Spaniard, full
of life and spirit. had much ado TO COM
pose her mind at the time Of my spiritual
ministrations. But saw no fault in her
| none at all. She was fond of'fuu and amuse-
ment, truly but that was the full extent of
her frivolity. Vice she knew not
and she was ever faithful in thought
and deed TO the baron, her husband.
Bartram was not a saint-very far from it.
His follies his enormities, his misdeeds, his
graceIess conduct made him Justly an OBJ
ject OF aversion TO the country side. / knew
more OF his per7ersities than any one else,
probably, for had been selected curiously
as his contessor also. Many q time. in my
quiet cell, l unused over my two charges
the notorious sinner, and the gentle, un-
offending saint-for such she truly was. The
earl troubled the confessional but little. His
sins lay lightly on his hardened breast, and
his time, divided pretty evenly between
border raids and social fagrancies. left
small leisure for penances suoh as l should
have been certain to int1ict. must make a
long story short or I shall weary your
patience. s-
1.-THE baron went abroad, and while he
was away, his lady gave birth TO a dead
son, aud lost her own life as we'll. Before
she died, however, the earl came to me and
swore he had something TO confess, and
then and there, he did reveal to my aston
ished ears the sad tale that the dead son was
not that Of Sir Adrian Graham at all, but
the child of the wicked BartrAm alone.
This story threw me into great oonfusio n ,
being told with much conciseness and pre-
ctsioni also because, at the moment of hear
Jog 1t / received summons to hear the last
sad utterances Of the Lady Graham
nerseif' IL was dire position
for a man situated as l was, the
Ia arr Adj k@kr.
families-each with its powerful following
or the neighborhood. l was pledged TO
| secrecd, Of course; but my sympathies were
with ths good Sir Adrian, rather than with
the wicked earl. aud my mind revolted
from his villainy. l imposed on him Sc
we're penance. and rebuked him for bis sin,
which heaven would surely visit again upon
bis head. And then, being yet more impa-
tiently called TO my lady's need. left the
recreant nobleman aud FASTENED to her
| dying bed. When l arrived she was past
prayer aud confession; the agonies Of death
had set in, and the glazing eyes were fast
becoming sightless.
"Was she a sinnerl asked, in much sor.
row Of my own heart Could she lie there
at her last hour, so calmly and yet &C
simply, IT by her sins she had soiled the
and stained the pure beauty Of her young
| lifel Alas, knew not. fell on my knees
| by her bedside and held the cruciflx before
her, that the dying eyes might rest on that
other dying sufferer and flud peace
She was beyond the reach OF words.
1.-THE rising and falling OF her breast now
shorter. now longer IN intervals, the con
vulstve shudder, alone indicated that she
1 lived. o mel what a change a few hours
makes In the thing we call human being
Wasted and worn was she who had been full
of life and joy and beauty. Was this The
result OF disease or the climax Of sinl
| k...kN all H.
The past was already fading into eternity
The physician, who held her hands, assured
us OF her state from time TO time. HeI
maidens wept aloud In the dim chamber.
khelt and prayed. 'Agnus Dei-ora pre-
nobis-ora, ora pro nobis Dona nobii
pacem. --Dona nobis pacem.' So prayed
| my soul heavy within me, for the uncon
fessed guilt; my heart filled with grief for
her who went uushriven. and for the absen,
Sir Adrian, her husband. And thus tbs
long night passed. And when the gray
dawn stole over the sleeping earth, her SOU
had fed 20 him who gave IT,"
The friar paused, and the vicar moved hii
chair.
'tIt seems TO me the sin was theirs, moi
yours, my father" he said softly, "Why
should 1t thus disturb your peacsr
The specter flInched little.
'Son )" he began, "It was needful to tell
| you this history that you might understand
| the rest. When that man OF sin, Bartram
heard that the lady was no more, he came
hither again In tho dead Of night. and left
with me certain deeds and parchment
whereon none might look, for they held the
history of his unlawful wooing. And hG
extorted from me q pledge that should
guard these deeds for q time, and in ths
event of his death, should destroy them un.
read and with the seals unbroken. He was
a strange man." unused the friar, softly.
May be he had writ these deeds out--for
he was a scholar-to obtain some grant OF
concession from Sir Adrian; or 70 perpet.
uate some feud between them. To make
bad blood was ever hiz unholy way How
ever it may be, cannot tell you now.
There the parchments remained, and the
earl went away. l never saw him again. "
And did you destroy the deedsin
"Alas there lies my crime. confess 10 to
you, my son. The temptation was strong.
was but human; and the longing 30 know
the truth, or the falseness, Of the charges
that he had brought against my dead lady
overpowered my judgment.
Scarcely had he gone out OF my sight
than rose and closed the cell securely, and
sitting down upon my couch cut open the
seals and read the parchment Through.
1T was an evil act, and one which
| brought down heavens curse. l, a priest,
receiving q sacred trust In confession. and
( then deliberately breaking 1.-THE punish
ments of heaven should surely be meted out