Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1912-11-21
Copyrighted 1911 by Harper 4 Bros


OF habitatons no trace remained the cataclysm had
made void in the landscape and borne away all signs
of human existence. Scylla with all its people had
persisted utterly from the earth; it was as though it
had never been; its very site was eternaly erased
from the eyes of men.
The sallow disk of the faded away; the indigo
OF the turned to clearer blue star after star left
the skies. flock of swallows winging south whirlcd
by overhead. The Abbatc Lotrel sat as one stricken
to the life. Then across his benumbed brain like
beam of revelation, shot the remembrance of vague
tidings brought into Tunis by French missionary
who was seeking companion to go with him to the
battehields of Abyssinia. This had spoken of
some Italian town which, with all its inhabitants had
been swept into the sea by an earthquake. Its
he did not know. Stunned and stupefed, the Abbatc
more duly surveyed the surrounding landscape.
There stood the crumbing edicc of Roman days. grin,
in the dawnght; across the strait monsrous Charyb
dis lifted its threatening head The young priest was
overwhelmed by the realization of something too vast
for human mind to grasp at once; he crushed
by grief too great to be contained wholly in one
human heart A groan burst from him and he buried
his face in his hands Upon his knees rested the parcel
wrapped in leather.
An ocean of timultuous emotions engulfed his soul;
thousand agonizng memories crowded upon his mind
Now he stood more than alone amid mankind the
victim Of colossal bereavement, the martyr of
mighty remuneration BY this dread judgment he stood
exalted suddenly to the Hottest cminencc of tragic
isolation, cut off at stroke from all that makes
life dear and which not even his religion had caused
hin, utterly to renounce For the first time he felt
in all its intensity the absolute. tyrannous power Of
human ties and associations of the claim of the natal
earth and the links Of social love Thirty-four of his
hryseven years had been rooted fast in Scylla. Alb
had but intensified his love for the place and the
people. By terrible clash OF the shears of Fate
he stood sundered from all ties with the past that
part of his life seemed though it had been,
its records and its results expunged in the floods
No had been deeply concerned in the affairs Of
the community as the Abbate Lotreli In the bitter
of exile he had realized that his life would
remain nextrcably bound tip with the three thousand
human creatures he knew intimately. Not soul
saved the French missionary had said. Therefore,
he doomed henceforth to wander alone in the
world inefaceabe brand upon his brow to bear till
death the overwhelming and tremendous burden Of
memories that could share with him, He the
solitary survivor would he the sole repository of the
life stories of the thousands he knew-what they had
done and thought and suferedyea the fact that they
had ever lived known to him alone The dark
OF the confessional that lay entombed in his bosom
the secrets OF the veritably dead. The
catastrophe released him from every link with the
former days; rendered null his errand hither aud
futile his great sacrifice OF three years ago and his
intended offering of to-day. The known consequences
OF his actions good and evil, were now as naught
He stood bereft Of all anecedens alone as never man
alone
His dark eyes. in which desolate light now smoul-
dered, wandered listlessly out the sea- still
verging into richer dyes of blue. Deep under those
restless surges Scya lay in ruins and all its three
thousand hearts cold and still Roalia for whom
he had taken infamy upon his head rested there with
Vincenzo-whom she so lovedin everlasting sleep.
His old mother, too, locked in that deep tomb of
water; her lips would bless him again. his play
fellows OF old there and the townspeope, their
wives and chldren--oh the many sweet and happy
children that always meet him in the streets!
Rosaas child, the little Gulia he loved-her bright
eyes were closed in the deep and the brine in her
baby heart The pretty cottages filled with happiness
the public buildings and the spangled gardens
law broken and chaotic heap of monstrous confusion
in the black profounds where the whrlpoos raved and
spun His loved church with its graceful campa-
nile its marbles, mosaics and paintings, where
it now? Were its bells swinging to the currents in
the deep, pealing requiem to the shattered village
and its people in the oceans oozc? As though it had
been Yesterday arose before him that awful bright
morning when Rosalia came to him with terror with
ing in her lovely countcnancc. Her very words rang
in his again:
"Vincenzo my husband, last night stole the sacred
vessels from the sanctuary. He sold them to Tuns-
ian merchant who sailed this morning. Death and de-
structon will fall upon Vncenzo took also the
golden nonstrance which the great Pope Sixtus the
Fifth gave to Our church long ago Oh Paolo Lo-
trelli defend us from the of God and the law!
If Vincenzo be discovered he will be hanged Oh
Paolo save him for the love you once bore me-for
the love you bear my little Giulia! If Vincenzo be
taken I shall die love him still beyond all telling.
If he be taken | shall die.
Again he saw the beautiful creature as she sank
to the marble floor again he felt the clasp of her arms
bout his knees. Her agony that had been so terrible
hcn-the memory of it was terrible now. He recalled
his own hollow voice he had risen and said
"Say nothing do nothing-leavc all to me"
Then followed fierce combats with his heart and
soul arrayed in arms, But the fatefu truth rose
riumphant-love such he still bore must ever be
borne Ere that night had passed, without parting
word to any one, without farewell kiss from his
mother with all the evidence Of guilty haste ieY,
behind him. he had crossed to Messna and taken the
racket for Tuns. For months he had wandered among