The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1899-10-05
The Garden Of pIoserpina.

| pursued the surgeon; I'VE struggle
I aiOng through the fires OF the summer
season, and the hot deluge of the rainy
! season. and the murderous onslaught
| of the steamy season, and as soon as
| the weal l1er changes and life becomes
| once more btarable, the collector dles
| OF dysentery and you withdraw from
active service. DO you hear?' he con-
| tinued raising his voice. the collector
| died this morning, and | have been In
| directly informed that the excellence or
your reports has so charmed the soul or
authority that IL Is exceedingly hkeiy
Won will next be promoted TO ghe glo-
Ifes Of Toniture Come Walpole, what's
wrong with ye? More Swinburne?'
"No," said the other in voice hoarse
from disuse.
"Whiskey?"
mo"
Duduid took a cheroot from the usual
box. lighted 10, and seated himself with
an air OF leisure. saying. drily; 1T
seems / must wait we're pleasure.
For some time he waited i'm VAIN. wal
mole tried 10 speak more than once, but
no word came; finally. as in despair of
finding voice. he pulled from his pocket
two crumpled kilograms. and held them
ont with a fierce action. half avowal,
half compulsion.
Duouid took the papers. smoothed
them carefully and laid them on his
knee They bore messages from Glou-
cester England; the first, dated October
%, was this:
Eleanor very III. Can you Gomez"
"LOVELACE RIPTON."
The second dated October 26. was
this:
Eleanor died today. Affectionately,
"RIPTON."
Duquid smoked attenrively during
several minutes, then offered his broad,
square hand without looking in it's di-
rection. 1t was not taken.
II did IT," said Walpole harshly.
How? You don't mea. W.
think she did it?"
No no. God forbidi" cried the
stricken man, finding words at last.
1T is / who am guilty. She has died
for me. Look here. We have been drift
ing apart for months-at least | have
been drifting You know / spoke TO you
about IT, You remember your advice
My letters were often brutal, | fancy
She noticed it; hers got shorter. ana
there was less i'm them. Once she asked
seriously If ! had changed towards her.
or wanted any change | answered no
but | didn't care a curse. She always
spoke of her cold; then i'm July sh"
went off 10 the High Alps, and said she
was feeling better. There came fort
night i'm which I did not hear from ner;
then, three weeks ago. There was a
short. decided note from her TO say
that illness had kept her from writing
to me before. that our correspond nee
must cease--I should quite understand
that there were reasons which made lt
best SO This would be her last com.
munication to me, but her prayers ana
her influence would be for my advan-
tage always The signature was very
shaky / thought about IL a good deal,
but | did nothing. one doesn't ever
want TO do anything much ~ lhe
steams / meant To apply for leave 70
go home. / did nothing
1T was probably rapid consumption,
interrupted Duquid.
II 6aresay. But l remember her clear
ly now | remember her romantic dcNo-
tion to me; her high ideal OF cO9staray.
her unusual quickness and depth OF
feeling The real name fo' il is bro
ken heart
Her family don't think SO. Look at
the 'affectionately. Ripton.
"She may have been too sore, too
proud to speak of me. She may
have known that she was dying, and
I'm her divine tenderness have left them
unprecedented against me---they We're
all fond of me--useful friends. There
is nothing you can say. Duouid. l have
sat here for two days and nights turn
ing il over and over in my mind. /
know II. / know her and myself. Eileen
loved me with all her soul and she died
of my unworthiness" Walpole clench-
ed his fist and raising his bio odshot
eyes to rhe white-washed ceiling. cried
i'm a wild voice. 80 Eileen II anywhere
i'm heaven or in the air YOU can hear
me. you know what ] am in my own
sight. and the awful remOrse | bring
unavailingly 10 the ineXorable silence
OF your DEATH
Dudud's heart stood still for the
space of beat, IN tribute to the maJes-
" Of mortal pain.
The sun was setting amid long lines
OF frosty-red one evening in December
| as Walpole walked up the chilly avenue
/ TO the house at Mapleburdock. The light
i winds ppayed In the pines like the sough
! Of a distant sea and bore to his feet rare
! withered leaves from the empty boug'hs
Of oak and beech. As he walked he held
fast 10 a fixed point He had come 10
| tell his own disgrace. his dismissal from
Eleanor's love and favor weeks before
she died he had come 10 render back
her gifts 10 him. 10 make a pious visit
10 her grave and and then he hoped 10
see her people and her place no more.
The servant knew him at the door,
| and there was commission In the way
he helped him with his coat The draw
| ing-ro0m, warm and bright with fire
and hot house flowers was full of Ell
| leen's presence; il seemed she were cer-
faInIy there-if not on this chair. then.
clearly, on the next. a sketch she had
made when with him on a track among
| the beechwood which. laughing, she
had called her masterpiece. stood franz
ed upon an easel near the lamp wal
pole sat himself before II. The sketching
hours came back 20 him. The person OF
the artist with The sunshine on her
fine brown h7ir her delicate features
quick and sensitized by love and happi-
| ness and Joy in Natures beauty He
! heard her laughter ripple softly as the
! squirrels dashed among the trees, he
! heard the musical depth Of her voice
telling him TO love no foreign scene sn
well as this. quite lost I'm memory. he
| did not notice steps along the carpet
| His hand was gently taken. and Lady
! Ripton. resting her head a moment on
| his shoulder whispered huslVily: my
love TO Lauder'-sh said that hast OF
! all"
His intention was frustrated. Details
! Of the end confirmed his most sorrpwful
! intutions, but bound his self-condem-
| nation forever within the walls Of his
/ own heart. They told him how her con-
| stant hopcfulnesS through the swift
! progress Of disease had lnexplicably
! changed 10 a mood of Indifference or de-
/ spair. In which 70 omed she went for