Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1895-05-30

Y remembered that / mao TOLD the
! monk my name; he knew that was
the only descendant Of the rich Ro-
mani family. What followed: Wy,
naturally, the good father had only
done what his duty called upon him
TO do. He had seen Gae laid in the
-aait of my a~ncestors-the great Ro-
mani vault that had never been open
ed since my fathers body was carried
TO its last resting place with all the
solemn pomp and magniicance Of a
wealthy ~nObleman's funeral cbsequies.
. The more / thought of this the more
probable il seemed. The Romani vault.
Its ~forbidding gloom had terrified me
as a lad when / followed my fathers
coffin TO the stone niche assigned TO
il. and l had turned my eyes away in
~shuddering pain when l was told to
look a. the heavy oaken casket hung
with tattered velvet and ornamented
with furnished silver, which contained
ali that was left OF my mother, who
died young. / had felt sick and faint
and cold, and had only recovered my
self when l stood out again in the free
air with the blue dome of heaven high
above me. And now l was shut in the
same vault, a prisoner. with what hope
OF escape? / reflected. The entrance
10 the vault, / remembered, was bar
red by a heavy door of closely twisted
iron; from thence a flight OF steep
steps led downward-downward TO
where, In all probability. l now a
Suppose | could in the dense darkness
feel my way 10 those steps and climb
up TO that door; of what avail? 1t was
locked. nay, barred, and as it was sit
uated in a remote part of the burial
ground, there was no likelihood of
even the keeper of the cemetery pass
Ing by IL for days; perhaps not for
weeks. Then must | starve? Or die
Of thirst? Tortured by these imagin-
ings l rose up from the pavement and
stood erect. My feet were bare, and
the cold stone on which / stood chilled
me TO the marrow. IL was fortunate
for me, / thought, that they had buried
me as a cholera corpse; they had left
me half clothed for fear of infection.
That is, l had my flannel shirt on and
my usual walking trousers. Something
there was, too, round my neck; | felt
1t, and as | did a flow of sweet and
sorrowful memories rushed over me-.
Ii was a slight gold chain, and on IL
hung a locket containing the portraits
OF my wife and child. / drew ii out
in the darkness; l covered it with pas
sionate kisses and tears, the first /
had shed since my death-like trance;
tears scalding and bitter welled into
my eyes. Life was worth living while
Nina's smile %lightened the world! /
resolved to fight for existence, no mat
ter what dire horrors should be in
store for me. Nina, my love, my beau
tiful one. Her face cleaned out upon
me in the pestilent gloom OF the char
mel house: her eyes beckoned me-; her
faithful eyes that We're now, l felt
sure, drowned in weeping for my sup
posed death. l seemed TO see my ten
der-hearted darling sobbing alone in
the empty silence of the room hat
had witnessed q thousand embraces
between herself and me: her lovely
hair ~disheyelled; her sweet, pale face
haggared with bitterness Of grief!
Baby Stella, too. no doubt she would
wonder, poor innocent! why l did not
come to swing her as usual under the
orange boughs. And Guido, brave and
true friend. l thought of him with
tenderness. l felt l knew how deep
and lasting would be his honest re-
greet for my loss. Oh, l would leave
no means Of escape untried; l would
find some way out Of this grim vault.
How oyerjoyed they would all be 10
see me again; to know that / was not
dead after all! What a welcome I
should receive! How Nina would nestle
into my arms; how my little child
would cling to me-; how Guido would
clasp me by the hand! l smiled as /
pictured the scene of rejoicing at the
dear old villa-the happy home sancti-
fled by perfect friendship and faith
full love.
A deep hollow sound booming sui
lenly on my ears startled me-one!
two! three. / counted the strokes up
to twelve. 1t was some church bell
tolling the hour. My pleasing fancies
dispersed. / again faced the drear
reality Of my position. Twelve O'Clock,
Midday or midnight? / could not tell.
/ began TO calculate. 1t was early
morning when / had been taken i'll;
not much past eight when / had met
the monk and sought his assistance
for the poor little fruit seller who had
after all persisted alone In his suffer
ings. Now supposing my illness had
lasted some hours, l might have fallen
into a trance, died, as those around
me had thought. somewhere about
noon. In that case they would GER
tainly buried me with as little delay as
possible; before sunset at all events.
Thinking these points over one by one,
/ came TO the conclusion that the bell
/ had just heard must have struck
midnight-the midnight of the very
day Of my burial. / shivered: a kind
OF nervous dread stole over me. l have
always been physically courageous,
but at the same time. in spite of my
education, 1 am somewhat upper
stitious; what Eeapolitan is not? it
III NlNItil, nIrlpn, e.
h,~IIbi NORTHUMBERLAND
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