The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1894-04-26

IL camo. Sfe was brought III 1rfeleSa
Sho had fallen dead whilo walking In tho
garden. Physicians camG in haste, but
nothing could DO done Sho was gone
For two days and two nights 1 watched
beside her myself, and with my own hands
placed her in her coffin, which followed
to tho cemetery and saw placed in the fam
lily vault. This was in tho country, in tho
province of Lorraine.
ut had boon my wish, too That she
should DO buried in her jewels, bracelets,
necklace and rings-all presents that had
given her-und in her first ball dress. You
can imagine, sir, the stato Of my heart in
returning home. She was all that had
left. My wife had been dead for many
years. I returned, in truth, half mad,
shut myself alono in my room and fell in
to my chair dazed, unable to move-merc-
ly miserable, breathing wreck.
Soon my old valet, Prosper, who had
helped me place Julictto In her coffin and
lay her away for her last sleep, came in
noiselcssly to SEQ If he could not induce mo
to eat. shook my head, answering moth
ing. He persisted:
Monsieur is wrong. This will mako
him ILL., VIII monsieur allow NO. then,
to put him to bcd9'
No, no, 1 answered Let me alone
"Ho yielded and withdrew.
How many hours passed do not know
What u night! What n night 1t was very
cold. My fire of logs had long since burned
out in tho great fireplace, and tho wind
wintry blast, charged with IN icy frost
-howlcd and screamed about tho house
and strained ut my windows with Curl
ously sinister sound.
Long hours, I say, rolled by. 1 sat still
where had fallen, FRUSTRATED ovcrwhclm-
ed; my eyes wido open, but my body
ngthlcss-dcad; my soul drowned in
despair Suddenly tho great bell gave
loud peal.
II gave such leap that my chair
cracked under me. Tho slow, solemn
sound rang through tho empty house
looked at tho clock. 1t was in tho morn
ing Who could be coming ut such an hour?
Twice again tho bell pulled sharply.
The servants would never answcr-pcr-
haps never heard it. 1 took up candle
and made my why to tho door. was
about to demand:
Who is thcrcS' but, ashamed of tho
weakness nervcd myself and drew back
tho bolts. My heart throbbcd, my pulse
beat, I threw buck tho panel brusoucly
and there in the darkness saw u shape
like phantom, dressed in white.
II rccoilcd, spccchlcss with anguish,
stammcring:
Who-who nro you?'
"A voice answered:
It is I, father
ut was my child-Julictto
Truly 1 thought myself mad 1 shud-
dcrcd, shrinking backward before the spec
ter us 1T advanced, gesticulating with my
hand to ward off the npparition. 1t is that
gesture which has never left me.
Again the phantom spoke:
Father fathcr Sec, 1 am not dead.
Some ono camo to rob mo of my jewels
they cut off my 1lngcrNthc-tho flowing
blood revived me-
with blood. 1 fell to my knees, painting,
sobbing, laughing, all in one. AS soon us
/ rcgaincd my senses, but still SO Devil
dcrcd l scarcely comprchcndcd tho huppi-
moss that had come to me, took her in
my arms, carried her TO my room and rang
frantically for Prosper to rcllindlc the fire,
bring warm drink for her and go for the
DOCTOR
He calno running, entered, gazcd II
moment ut my daughter i'll the chair, gave
gasp of fright and horror and fell back
dead.
"It was he who had opened the vault,
who had wounded and robbed my child
and then abandoned her, for he could not
cifaco all trace of his deed, and he had not
even taken the trouble To return the coffin
to its niche, sure, besides, of not being
suspected by me, who trusted him SO fully
Wo arc truly very unfortunate people,
monsieur"
Flo was silent
Meanwhile night had como on, cnvclop-
Ing in the gloom the still and solitary lit
tic valley. y sort of mysterious dread
seemed to fall upon me in presence of these
strange bcings-this corpse como to life
and this father With his painful gestures.
Let us return" said I; "thc night has
grown chill"
And still in silence we rctraccd our
steps back to the hotel, and I shortly after
ward returned to the city. lost all fur
thor knowledge of the two peculiar visit
ors to my favorito summer rcsort.-Guy
do Maupassant.