The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1894-04-21
VOL. XxIX.-NO. 25.
ave. You understand exactly, therefore,
hot ,oonaar Of man ha vvos

Young, rich, strong, capable, ambitious.
and he had to leave the Banquet of Life at
twenty-four2 There wanted but one thing
more-and that, too, was granted him ?
He was to leave love behind him
He was happy lover; made happy ex-
aetly week before this dreadful thing fell
upon him. The name of the girl was
Violet think if his thoughts had turned
in the direction of Violet just when the
physician told him the truth about his case,
he would have taken it fainting. Fortu-
nately he only began to think of her now,
in his own rooms alone, when he was be-
ginuing to understand a little. 1t takes
time, you see, for man to discover the
meaning of any event. Most of us never
do succeed in understanding what any event
means-birth, belongings, disease, loss-so
that all the consequences, which are abso-
lutely certain and unavoidable, fall upon
us as so many distinct and separate opera
tions of fate and vindictiveness.
When he did think of his girl, and of
the grief that would fall upon her, he
weIl-forgive him. Love makes man
weak as we'll as strong -lacrymis Sc ira
didh 1t sounds more manly in Latin.
Violet, he said, was all affection, a creature
of pure affection; she was all constancy and
truth; she was wholly his; she had given
her heart to him for life or death; she
would never-never-get over 1t. he
saw in imagination her widowed form, grace
full even in grief, kneeling beside his tomb
year after year. Again-lacynlis Sc ira
didt. Does it not look better in the dead
language?
He was man quick to resolve. He
made up his mind at once what was best
to be done. Since they must part, let
them part at once; let there be no leave
taking-horrible, acute, agonizing; let the
end be made and the knot cut at once.
He dried his unmanly tears and sat down
to write. A hard thing to do, but he did
it-and this is part ofhis letter. Itbegan
with things sacred to Love-things that
should never be copied out and printed.
II shall take with me" he said, after
explanations, "where I am going, the un-
dying memory of this last week of bound
less happiness. Whenever [ may be or
dered to go-I know not what my new
country will be like-there can be no JOY
comparable to the JOY of loving you. l
shall take that memory away with me at
least. All the memories of my life may be
forgotten, but shall keep this one. My
dear, am going on a long journey; must
go very soon; must go alone-quite alone.
I cannot even take you with me. | would
not if could. You must remain and for
get me, and rejoice in your youth, and in
your beauty, and in your goodness. My
dear angel, you would have made me, per
haps, in the long run, even like yourself,
because you could have made me what you
please, and nothing short of your own pu-
rity and sweetness and goodness would
have satisfied you. My saint it may be
that beyond the tomb I may yet rise to
your level, and stand beside you when you
follow me. Dearest Violet, this is the last
letter you will receive from me. In kind
ness to you it will be best that should not
see you again before go. Another COM
municatiOn you will have respecting GER
tain wishes of mine, but this is the last
letter you will have from me. Farewell,
my love-farewell.
II repeat, am doomed to die. There
can be no doubt 1 have had symptoms
which should have disquieted me-for
some time past. l have now consulted a
physician, Sir Christopher Fairlight. He
says that | shall be dead in three weeks.
[ shall 90 away, therefore, and take lodg-
ing somewhere, and die alone. Do not,
my dear, try to see me. Do not answer
this letter. Say to yourself, HE is dead.
And, so saying, try to forget me, and be
happy again. Say He is dead,' and be
happy again. That is all. Farewell G."
III.
Violet received this letter at breakfast.
She read it with an expression of the
greatest bewilderment, but not the least
grief, dismay, or aff1iction. George" she
said to her brother, tossing him the letter,
''read that
George did read it.
"Well?" asked his sister, "what does he
meau2 He was here the day before
Yesterday as well as man can be. And,
as usual, full of his stupid ambitions
What does it mean p
at means" George replied, "either
what it says-in which case, Violet l,
must see him at once, because, you see, he
ought to do something for you. It's very
sudden. Poor beggar! l wonder if it is
really-upon my word it's very sad let
ter-but you don't seem to mind much.
He's very fond of you-this letter shows
that he's fool about you"-Violet nod
ded-'and- .and-I think he ought to do
something very handsome indeed for you.
Or, perhaps-but can't think-it means
that he's going to bolt and break it off. "
at doesn't mean that, George, unless
he's found out something-Bob, you
know"
"Humph! Perhaps-well-I will take
cab to his chambers and catch him at
once.
The maiden, all affection and constancy,
took kidney and piece of toast. 81
think it's real letter, and that he's got to
sit down and die 1t must be horrid for
uliL Dub HC Win uO Whdb JOu AAhC aDOuo
me, George -remember-don't be
too bashful. He's got piles of money.
If you can't get a satisfactory will out of
him-why-I had better have stuck to
my dear old Bob. And mind, George,
don't ask me to pretend, because l won't.
If you bring him to reason, that way,
shall be glad of it. Glad, mind
But when her brother called, the tenant
of the chambers was gone. Where
His servants did not know. There was no
address for letters. Probably the master
would be hack in a day or two.
".
"Bob she cried, springing up and run
ming to meet him with every outward sign
of joy, and with the flushed excitement Of
one who has news-news surprising and Of
great ioy-to communicate. II am so glad