Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1893-06-04

"Ah! What was that l was meaning
to tell you. LIE Bean Serge married
four years ago q Mile. Vera Luvoff,
whose father, Gen. Luvof, you must
often have seen at court. 1t was q love
match, and never was q young man
more strikingly improved by natrl-
mony. You think, as a rule, it has q
| deteriorating effect? Then Serge Eco
dorovitch is an exception. His wife Is
charming, pretty, amiable and clever,
and aderes her big Prince absurdly.
Paulevsk, where she spends every sum-
mer, has been painted and partly re-
Furnished, and the Princess has an En-
| glish garden. While the house was be-
ing dene up, by the way, the left wing
caught fire oRe night, quite unac-
countably, and long before the engine
could arrive from K. ID was burned to
the ground. The rooms were all dis
mantlsd, SO 1t was no great matter, and
happily the flames were prevented
from spreading to the rest OF the build
Ing. Old Serge, Erisof's grandfather,
used the ground floor Of the left wing as
q prison, where he confined his refrac-
tory serfs. aud such old wives tales
were tsld about sights and strange
noises which haunted it that no one
would have entered it after nightfall
for any sum Of money, yet 1t was at
night and on the ground floor that the
fire originated. Talking OF Serge
Stephanovitch, a most curious thing
happened. His portrait, which hung,
as you may remember, in the anteroom,
disappeared on the night OF the FIRE and
has never been recovered. No one
knows who did 1t, but some hand cut 1t
| clear out Of the frame; it was as II the
Prince, made restless by the destruction
of his property, had stepped down and
walked away into the night"
There was a Queer-looking old man
whom l remember" I said, when l had
expressed my surprise at the mysterious
disappearance Of the portrait; "Vassili
l think his name was Do you know II
he is still alive?"
Volutine looked at me with unusual
sharpness and curiosity in the glance OF
his little pale eyes. "What was the ma
ture of the sudden illness which. took
you back to X. ?' he asked, smiling.
my illness!" l exclaimed, taken
aback.
Perhaps" said Volutine, "you think
me unduly inquisitive; probably you will
think me still more i'm pertinent il | ask
you whether you believe in the black
art?"
s'Wsll,"I answered recovering myself,
81 should like to know what makes you
ask that last question:"
1.-THE reason is very simple. When you
left Paulovsk and started your on ride,
you appeared to be in perfect health,
and yet l knew from others besides
Marie Zagarine that your illness was
not a p~retense and an excuse; every SER
want at Paulovsk was persuaded that
Vassili had overlooked you. To this
day Erisoff does not know that he per-
| suaGed Filofe to let him take his place
as your groom. Filoiei brought the note
from Marie Zagarine and described in
ny presence the sudden fainting fit
which came upon you while you were
waiting at the blacksmith's. l only
| heard the truth as one always hears it
late in the day."
The truth?" I said hastily. "Only
| old Vassili could have told you that; as
for me, l know no more Of that than
you do"
"And Vassili Sergeief will keep his
own counsel, for he died on the night Of
the fire. Old as he was, he worked like
a man In helping to e%xtinguish the
flames; later on they missed him, and at
dawn found him lying dead, struck
down by some falling stonework."
My loquaclous companion talked on,
| but his soft voice seemed TO recede into
the distance; and. though, as l stood
looking out OF the window, my eyes
rested on the sunshiny Washington
ssreet, 1 was standing in reality with a
very different companion on a desolate
d%arkening moorland, and strange fig
ures were %thronging round Us with wan
faces of despair. What was the truth?
At the bidding OF what strange power
had the evening mist taken shape be-
fore my eyes with the FERNS and faces
OF the dead? Only one man could have
answered that question and he had
passed beyond questioning. / thought
OF him lying dead in the gray dawn, and
wondered whether the faint mysterious
smile that | remembered had been on
his lips when death sealed them. The
sound of a familiar name reused me
from my reverie.
'Sacha, did you say?" asked.
eyes" answered Volutine. "she is
their eldest child; they have a boy now
as well. Sacha is a sweet little gray
eyed girl, the image OF the Princess. Do
you remember the room at the end OF
the great corridor? 1t was old Serge's
room, and he died there. Now it is used
as the children's playroom. II l had
been the Princess l should have chosen
some other apartment, but she says IL Is
light and airy, and that the ghost Of
Serge S~tephanovitch has never been seen
by any one."
So the weed-grown gardens are bright
again with flowers, and where the old
Prince raved and cursed, little Sacha
laughs and chatters, little dreaming OF
another Sacha whose pale face came
there long ago to haunt a dying man.
Can Vassili see her, l wonder, this lit
tie namesake of his dead bride, or has
he forgotten the things that were, the
old wrong and the old hatred, and is he
wandering hand in hand with his own
Sacha in some dim and happy land?
cannot tell, but at least, as he said
In mockery OF his dead father, / can say
most honest and heartily Of him, MAY
his soul have peacs."-Sidney Pickering
In Mdcmilldn's Magazine.
Sermon to Measure.
DR.. ks an eloquent preacher,
but he belongs to the old fashioned
- - IsQI a,1N - 80