LOST FOE A WOMAN.

Hawera & Normanby Star, Volume I, Issue 62, 13 November 1880, Page 3 (Supplement)

LOST FOE A WOMAN.

In the drawing-room, of Tremaine Manor >« young lady eat one storm; October mornlog, lißtlessly toying with some fancy-work she held between her dainty fingers. The young lady was apparently making, at a cost of much time and tinted wool, some delicate trifle, as admirably elegant as it was eminently unfitted to be put to any praotioal use. To do her justioe, her mind was not jjn her work, for she rustled softly with restlessness as she sat, and glanced several times; impatiently oat at the window at the dyirfg leaves which eaoh|gusi of wind swept upward in the cool aufumn air. She was. evidently expecting somebody: And yet she", was ptie of thoae whom few men care to keep 5 touting. Alice Tremaine was a dark but 1 ' dazzling beauty, with ooalblaok hair and gloriduß dark eyes, which seemed, however, more, fitted to express passion than tenderneaa fhee eyebrows, black, straightish and nihei; thiofe, would hnveheen znajeßiio and ( tob seVftre had they not been succeeded byf long si\ken lashes, a sweet oval faoe, and a pair Of Jusoious red lipß, studded with ivory. Her mouth—a trifle large, but well-shaped—-had, however, certain lineß about it that in the heyday of youth were charming enough,, bat which age might render sensual or crafty, . or both.. Such was Alice Tremaine at nine?' teep. hj3he was the only daughter of HughTifelflfiin*,' the descendant ol as ancient bat impov&tshfld family ot Commoners. The; house of Tremaine could ill afford the v expensive careers on which it had lauhohe^ its sons; and Alice had been somewhat' negleotejj, not having yet • attended her firjit? London season. This, Mr. Tremaine fully: revised, could not be muoh longer deferred but! h& consoled himself with the though! that sujjh beauty as hers could not long lapx briffiant offers. On this particular morning Alice was restleas and preooonpied ; and well she might Jba so.'for to-day was to be a memorable' one >ie he* life. The Marquis de Murado, a Spanish grandee, who was staying with Sir Robert Carmiohael, a neighbour of the Tremaines> had proposed to het the day before, Alice had nettner accepted nor declined him, bnt the Marquis was to call to-day for an answer. It' was this visit she was now expecting. She had been thinking the matter over sinoe th"c day/ before, and now she had made up ..her mmd — phe would accept the Marquis. True, h$ was rather sallow, and old enough to be her lather; true, she loved George .Arnold, townonfshe had plighted her troth, and wfco was now in Paris, striving to make, a fortune and <a name with pallelte and brnsb. She and* George had parted a tew months before • with' the understanding that they were to> wait- a year, at the end of whioh time he; would have reached the age of twenty-five," and would come into a legacy, not large; but* snmofently so to enable them to live comfortably; until George was able to make his art prbvg remunerative. On this understanding thej^had parted, and George had gone to Paris to at once enter (on the struggle for fortune and fame. Alice had at first pined for her lover, and had baen faithful to him in thought and in deed until the Marquis de Murado crossed her path and laid his heart, his titles, and,his fortune at her feet. Then she hesitated, but her hesitanoy was of short duration. She loved George Arnold — yes, she loved him as muoh as a nature so selfish - a&hers was capable of loving ; but she loved better the brilliant position she would occupy before the world as the wife of the Marquis ot Marado ; ahe loved better the diamonds with which he would bedeck her, and the wealth with whioh he would surround her. She thought of Mb noble oastle in Aragon, of his Italian villa by the lake, and of his mansion in Paris, all resplendent with ormolu and malachite, and rare objects of art and Parisian taste ; and, true to the instincts of her sex, for theße she saorifioed the man to whom she had plighted her troth. How few of her sex would have done otherwise ! * One mouth later, in Paris, George Arno£ waß seated in a small room fitted up as a studio. He was a young man of about twenty-four, Btanding over six feet, very square-shouldered, but so symmetrical and light in his movements that his size hardly struok one at first. His features were no more than comely ; the brow was full, the eyes were wide apart, the lips were thin, but expressive. It was a faoe of powdr, and oapable of harshness, but leavened by a clear blue eye, marvellously expressive, wonderfully tender. He was the youngest son of Sir Frederick Arnold, whose estates in Norfolk were near those of the Tremaineß. A huge m«eti£f at pars breed, with noble 1 head and massive obest, lay at his feet, looking wistfully up at him. George's face I at thiß moment was deathly pale, and bore indication of terrible mental suffering. In his clenched hand he held a copy of the 'Times of the' day before, and his eyes seemed glued in a wild stare on a paragraph in the paper, whioh read as follows : Mabbied.— On 'Wednesday, the 15th inst., by the Dean of Norwich, assisted by the Bey. Dr. Foley, the Marquis Jobb Marie de Murado to Alioe, only daughter of Hugh Ttemaine, Esq., Norfolk. i At laßt, apparently mastering his emotion by a mighty efiort, George Arnold flung the paper impatiently aside, and sprang to his ieet. He drew a miniature from his breast, oast it angrily to the ground, and furiously crushed it to atoms beneath bis heel. "As I crush her likeness, so may I crush out all memory of her 1" he muttered, bitterly. He Btopped a moment and stood gazing at an unfinished oanvaa on the. eaieL " "£U beet so," he mummied presently. "I have now nothing left me but my art— and you, Carlo," he added, turning to his dog, whose eyeß at once lighted up with fidelity and affection, and who advanced 'to oaress his master's hand. "Gould a man wish for a better mistress or a truer friend V

Five years later all Paris was ringing with the praises of a great painter. The excitable' Gallic nature, worked up to its fullest extent, vented itself in unstinted applause, . On the boulevards, in the cafes, in the saIOBB everywhere, words ot praise were spoken of a young painter whose wonderful masterpiece, exhibited in the salon that day, had taken Paris By storm. Meanwhile George Arnold, for he it was who had so suddenly become famous, sat alone in his studio, with Carlo for his Bole companion. George had somewhat changed; his fine frame was /thinner and his. cheek paler than when we last saw him. Many were the invitations he had received that evening, but he had preferred to remain at horne — alone with his dog. He was now reading a letter bearing the English postmark, and seemed absorbed in thought! It was Srom h\p olcl iriend Sir Robert Carmiehael, inviting him to come and spend the shooting-season at his place. At length started up with the air of a man who has tafeen a sadden resolnti '

" Yes, t will go," lie murmured. » "It is now over five yean since I have seen home,

and ip will do as good to revisit the old scenes— ah, Cari&?" / ] C^ota eyes YighleA np, and lie wagged his foil as if to signify that he lolly agreed with* his mastep.. The dog, like' George, had. also somewhat '-; altered. ' He was no longer so bright of eye" nor so-agile p£ limb as .he had once been,; but his senses were now/ as alerfc as 'ever, for his, /master's approach, and WsTiearf; . beat •»# faithfully and^joyottsly at bis master's caress as when, benffrth the giant" oaks on the Aniold ; esta^By the fir© oh yonih: coursed through, i ev&tty sinew of his mighty frame. ' Haying made up Mb mind; George, at once started for England, and: late one arrived- at Sir Robert's country-peat, where he received a warm welcome from his host. Nejtrinorning, on cbtting down to breakfast, he met some .of the other guests of Sir Robert, with whom he' had- been acqnainted in former days.-'; An animated TJouwsation washing on between Captain Forrester and Majja Greene, $he latter had been.., away wi|h;hia regimenf in India, and 'this former fratf describing; the ttien reigning. beauties. <) 'v tell you what, though, old fellow,'! were ■Alnfdgf' the first ,wojrds that fell' on George Arnold's ear, "fdr really 1 , dazzling, peerless i beauty, none can compare with Madame a 'Marqueßa. de ;Mnrado..' Snob, eyes, each f nur, each a figure, tod, by Jove 1 snob, oonqneate. Whft ha)t x Jk>a<i<ia wept m«<f over hef this, eeaso'n.' Per husband was , v tne ;Mait^qis de Mnrado; yon know. He died last :ye»». w> •'■ .- , • ■ ) 4 " ; How enthusiastic yon are 1 Why, I half sudpect. yon 'went' 1 mad over her/ as yon itejjtti itiyouraelf,*' laughed Major Greene. [ Hlf I did, Fd the fashion fbo that's one ; oogifort," rejoined the other. - 'VI should" very, much like to ace this, wish YfiU soon be 7 Tgratifi'ecl, 1 * answered the Captain,'," for I hear she; is coming here: .tcwaorrowi * ,-| advise you, though, to tsk^ oare; : or^oQ; may leajn 1 to rtgret eveij haVmfeseen her. w C; ->. w / " 4"OhJ^o fetttjof^tha^", 'laaghed; JWfor Greea^ gaylgT. v'• , ' ■ •".', • . « ,Tbef- conversation then tnrned oA other tpjpioe, but George heard not what was'said, so engrossed was, he by the varying emotions these few : words of conversation had afonsed 17 him." fie rose . soon, afterwards from the ".fable and sanntered dtit into the cool njorning-aif. ' J- ■ '„" < 1, S.d the woman he had once l&red so dearly, aoict. who bad -so oraelly wronged him,, was Btoo'n.to ooxbb nniesf the B&me tool aßhizhtieH. •His' first iinpnl^e was to flee from "her -pre-, senoe; but on seoond thought he decided < ,^hat this would be oravenly. No 1 the old "love was. dead within him. Never again oouid she. revive, in his heart one spark ofe , tenderness for her. He would Btay and fao this, matchless coquette— he would brave th vaunted conqueror of men. ' The evening of the followingday he walked down to the drawing-room in ianltleßS. evening- Ureas. He gashed open the door, and there, with the light of the. ohandelieiß falliogfull upon her, stood Madame la Mart quesa de Mnrado. Time had indeed fulfilled the glorious promise of hex maidenhood. As a girl she had been beautiful, as a woman she was ■ irresistible. Maturity had lent . her added^ohaxma, and she now looked the beau: ideal of the woman of fashion— the pampered, beauty of European, capitals, She greeted' him as an old atg.Qaintanqe, and not a mtißble of Her face betrayed the slightest emotion as Jxahowedlow before»-ber^ iDnys* paused by, and George often met and conversed with her, and no referenoe was made by either of them to the past. George made no effort to avoid her, and flattered himself that she was powerless to resume her former sway over him. The Marquesa, however, had formed a terrible resolution. . She was secretly angered at the ooldness of her old-time lover, and, the last of. oonoLueet awakened within her by her many suoceßßea, ahe oouid not endure that even this man, whom in the bygone time she had so oraelly wronged, should refuse his allegiance. No ! be Bhonld once more bow before her, and acknowledge the sway of her peerless beauty. He was a great artist. He should place his talents at her service, and by transferring ber charms to the canvas make her /name and her beauty immortal. Having formed this resolution, she played hat cards adroitly and ats none knew better than this matcbtoßß coquette. It was the evening preceding her departure, however, that she laid the train that should spring the mine— that she played her trnmp-oard. There was a ball that night, and to George's own great surprise he awoke as from a stnpor, after a short conversation with the Marqueea, to find himself writing his name on her tablets as her partner in the next waltz— how it happened George himself never knew. When the time came he led her forth, and as they whirled round to the delioions mnsio, whose soft oadence was almost a caress, ber eyes gleaming with a subtle, dangerous light into his, ber breath fanning hie cheek, Ms hand brushed by the zipplea of hex hair, he felt the warm blood rußhwith lightning rapidity through every vein, and every pulse beat and quivered aa thongh all nerves bad been transformed into strings which throbbed beneath the influence of a magnetio touoh. " How warm the rooms are I" murmured the Marquesa, when the .waltz ended. '* I declare the heat is unbearable."

Without a word he drew her to the farther end of the ball-room, and, opening a small door behind some tall ferns, led her ont into a magnificent conservatory. Here the air was cool, and raze exotics, flowering shrubs and blossoms of native growth exhaled a delicious fragrance, while the splash of ft fountain that danced and sparkled in the moonlight was as low, sweet music falling caressingly on the ear. They stood still for a moment. This scene after the noise and heat of the crowded ball-zoom entranced them. They lingered for some time and, overcome by the magnetism of this woman's pießenoe, and low warn tailed i? Vac> tranquil beauty of his surroundings, before they left. George had forgiven the past, and. had /promised on her arrival in Paris to accede to her wishes with regard to the painting of her portrait. The following day she left, and soon after George returned to his studio. One month later the Msrqaeia arrived in Paris, and the. sitting! began. All her wonderful powers of fascination were put forth, and while the artist lingered lovingly over hia work hia soul drank in deep draughts of intoxicating happiness and love. At l«t the work was i completed. Inipued by genius and We, > George Arnold had created fchafc which would make him still more famous, and cause all Europe to ring with the beauty of the Marquesa. The painting was exhibited in the Salon, and once more Paris w«a taken by atom. ■

That evening George Arnold sought the presence of the woman be had made famous. He threw himself at her feet, and in burning phrases poured forth his passion. At first she was "moved by the earnestness and warmth of this man's nature; bat only momentarily, for ambition Boon asserted itself. By the provisions of the late Margins' will, should Bhe again many, the estates passed from her to a distant relative. Should she resign all, and marry a comparatively poor man? No ; that would be worse than folly. What a number of great alliances were open to her ? Was not a member' of a semi-royal Austrian house at that momsn^ at her feet? By suo'a an alliance what a position, what power, would be born ?

; Thesefthoaghfc3 passed qmokly through h|r Xni»3, and as Q-eorge ceaeed eoea&iag and. raised his eyes imploringly to hers, she looked down on him and smiled that cold, cruel smile many knew so well. ;. > "What you ask is impossible," Bhe sa&, as she tapped him lightly on the cheek wiffi her. fan. "Come, be reasonable. Are you a child, still, .that you must, be taught ,to stand aside and make way for others.', 11 - . C < . As the 'cold, oruel words fell clear" and distinct on, hip. ear, a mighty Bhudder,, r^n •throngh George's frame. He' started ,tq Sip feet, and stoodlooiingat her fixedly. Then, ;as he folly waUaed the import, of her words he gave a ; great cry and rushed from her .presence. £ , . . • - *. ? ; ; » God hup, me 1" he mattered; between his clenched teeth ; " but.if I look again I shall kill her and myself afterwards." And, scarcely knowing what he did, he harried from the place. „ Never more-would, George ; Arnold touch paUette.or bruah. Never, .again would he with some.crap.d work electrify Parjsi, He had started jn Jife" with those qnalities.pjat/Of which greatme.n are made; 'now talent destroyed^ambition extinct. His life r was j wußoked— his future blasted. He was joined ! through a ooquette-f-losfc for a woman.. '„ ,' C

, Six weeks later, the Grand Prix, raoeq were befag ran ajk Igendon, m sfcarmiag, fc'ttfe. town some dist«fioe;from,PariSiV T&ifhej^aj} was the.fashion, w*nt the Marquesa de Murado, accompanied by the gay tiuong thatf'iipvariably followed her on such occasions. Ihither also went George Arnold to drown haunting misery- in, the extitemen) of . ?'thejS»ring." •Xbj9 races lasted, two. days;, and Mendon was crowded. English lords and Bassian princes, womenr.of.faßhion and women of the tOWOj London *ogceß Had P«ria .f iuey^e., toe ariatooraqy«nd.the.rabble,the prinoeLariS'tne pe*feant,;th« high and the lowly, all had con* gregafed-tpltendon to witnesff ,thel;raee fcr the. Grand' Brixi Soover-oibwded were &? prinoipal hbjkels thai inlportant^a .person asMadipae la Marqueea de Mur^dd <bad,fo be aligned g'snite on Qieitbird fqor of .the Grand Hotel, lit. w»s;thie» in the morning,, when, worn out with' the excitem.eni of the .day, nearly everyone ih.Mend.on was 'Bans? in deep repose, that the Grand Hotel warf discovered to be in flames. The alarm was. at once given, bat before' many of 'the sleeping inmates could be aroused ;tb'& building was enveloped in obe "vast sheet; ot flame, fhjtt fire-brigade arrived, bat was 'too late 5 to be 6f any cfleotive fle>woe, The fire hai' started in.the lower portion of the hotel, and alrea.dv'the staircase was, impassable. The means of escape provided' weie. utterly inadequate for suoh an emergehoy,. ;and Mendon's fire-s.ervioe was of the most .primitive kiridr The flames were pouring out . from . the lower windows, and on the floors' above blanohed faces 'were to be seen looking oab. A ladder was ran up and- many of thftne unfortunate! w^re rescued,bnbJßany others perished in attempting to eadapaby the ■taicway. At last, however, .the, ladder had ' to be withdrawn owing to the fierceness of the. flames rendering its' further use impossible. Scarcely had it been removed when the facei of two terrified Women appeared at a window on th» third story. It. was .the ' Maiquesa and he* maid. The . latter, desperate with terror, "waa evidently ahout to spring from the wiudowj and aibUrjket was quickly extended for the purpose of .catching her. She m&'de .the jeap, ■bu.t^miajftd the blanket and fell with ,a heavy thud on the paved street below. A cry of horror wont up from the crowd, but their attention soon returned to the other unfortunate woman, who was threatened with a still more horrible deatb. The ladder was again run up, and leveral futile attempts were made by the firemen to reach the window. All hope of escape saemed Tain, and again a hoarse cry of horror was drawn from tae crowd. Suddenly a man pushed hia way to the front. He nlzed a rope, armed with a large iron hook, from one of the fireman, and, winding it round his waist, at once proceeded to climb a tall tree thatgravr in front of the hotel. A cheer went up from the crowd. This man was evidently about to Mtempt a rescue. Arrived on a level with the window, heuncoiled the rope from about hia waiafc, balanced himself for a, moment, then threw it with.- « ante, afieady aim, so that the large hook at its end caught on the Bill of one ol the upper windows. Thia simple contrivance is in very .common vie in France, and is often the means of saying life. The hook having caught, he, with .several . vlgorotii polls,, proceeded to draw it tight, Then, measuring the distance with his eye, a moment later he swung himself loose from the tree, clinging tightly to the rope. The crowd held Us, breath in suspense.. If this man were hurled againit the wall of the hotel, wo"ld not his hold be loosened, and he be dashed; stormed ° and bleeding, to the hard, cruel pavement below P For a moment he was borne swiftly through the sir, bat he had calculated the distance moit accurately, and, nnhucmed, he was dashed through the . open window into the room, while a wild, prolonged cheer bunt from the crowd. The force, of the impetus landed him on hia feet almost in the centre of the.apartment. ' He at, once turned to the woman he had come, to save, and she reoognbed George Arnold. .• , , For a moment she stood motionless; then, with dishevelled' hair, and eyes dilated with terror, she rushed towards him. , , "Oh, save me, George I save, me I- she cried, holding up her bare white arms lupplicatingly. • . . Bat George Arnold was silent. He stood gazing down on her with a> look of blended coldness, cruelty and fiendish triumph. "Save met save me!" repeated the frensied woman. " Why 'don't you speak to me, George ?" '

" Because I have. not come to save. you. I have merely come to die with you. Oh, Alice ! we were separated' in life, bat in death we will be united," and as he spoke his eyes gleamed wibh X d maniacal glace.

For an instant she stood looting at him, as : i£ doubting that she heard aright. Then, as she saw no sign of relenting in the hard, set lines of his face, she threw her arms wildly .above her. head with a hoarae cry of despairy and sank to the ground, while, as if in mockery. of her misery, a great wave of sickening, suffocating smoke swept into the room, and ,the flames below leapt and roared more lustily than ever. - Wild with terror, the desperate woman again, sprang to tor feet, andy xnsbin^ forward, threw her arms arOund.fcbis man, who .was the first who had ever refused to grant her slightest wish, and murmured words of love and entreaty in his ear. He. stood as if turned to marble for a brief space of time j then a mighty shudder ran his entire frame. -The contact of this woman, the sound of her voice, the sight of her glorious eyes raised in a world of entreaty to his, conquered him: A great sigh escaped' hint. " I cannot resist," he cried. " I will.try and save you. . But promise me, skoold you escape, thai no man shall ever hare cause to regret this ttet of mine." " I promise." Witnput another word he seized a blanket, saturated , it with water, and, after wrapping it about |her form, drew her to the.window. He stepped ont on a broad ledge whiot ran along the entire iront of th|e honße.'and.bearing her in bis aims, moved steadily and cautiously alpng. The flames, aj i| detfi*>

miaecl not to be «h«itai.<)t ttatt pr.ev 4 te&pt eewagitfy upmid &a& wmfopwl tbsm.*, .fcqj they injured her zv&Jor .they were beaten bMk ana.tnrnea aside by that living burin that iatoiposed • between them tnd her. . He w»b bliiiaea, blistered »?ja pmotberediby the Bmoke and flames; but hemanaged *o keep ■■his balaooeand move along the oompiratively farrow ledge until tieieaohed the: angle of. the home, on taming which, they W«e protected from the flames, Vhiph h»dnot.-8» "_ yet ' xeaohed thia portion of |h©,.aQtel. . A iacfderwaß at onoe brought Ho their aeeißtanoe: , Steadily, round *y round, .he de^oended, Btraining his living burden to Mb breast, and when he-iat last Ltouohed'gioaniJv, and, a wild;* tumultuous eheer,bars>fram the entbUßiaptfej crowd that Burroundedhim.he staggered* moment> and fell heavily forward. " '::u: They raised him gently and found .him badly injured ; bnt.the woman' vhosd life ho had aaved had escaped! almost unhurt. - .:J

Two days Utejr,\injk. ; prrote xoom in ft* hospital at Mendon,. whither he had been removed from the fire, George Arnold lay, unoqnsoida&., The injuries he had -received had ibeeh pronounced fatal, and ;it «v cvi«. dent that his- lifer was last ebbing aw*y. -■ It was'the-evening of that memorable day onwhioh the GorpsLegislatif ratifie&the daelaxa* tiori of war against (Jennauy,anol exalted cnwdgiyrete.fiomenad&ig \b& . stags-- «ifctit»" ing- *• To Beilin—to Berlin. 1" Presently George stirred uneasily, and the next moment opened bit eyea, which the shades of death were fast beginning >to darken,' and : raised thejp to .'those of the whofl9?life- he had.pnrobased.wlth that of his own. .As his eyefljrefltedron heM.-tttey lighted apwith a look in which all ihe pasßiohato^ hopeless; iait>eriß^iWe loyo Bpoka witH aa.inteQßil^ ho neyet *t«amed, and IbQ bsati^i top- a4Wi world-worn ebqaette -was reaoWd al-llat. •The fill strength and nobility and/ : deto.tion of thip passion she had nejgleoted rusnedo^ ncr as BhetoetWa eyee; ior the fiie^ Ume shi saw.bmi £W he was; for' the firalr' time... jheualuea ajhjf ?wbioh the^pleadidheroMun.^ Ottilia slonJ&warßi/lowntnatnri.wQuljlhaWc, feeta r oapattlr4wder«;diflorent tnet? Ai^j|(» etrnck her affddeniy , heavily, as with Jibtow;^ itailedher wifii a Jpassiopt pi xemorseh. A'V& - >« George.; joay darling! my- darling*^. How unwoi|hy!tbjw»-been of your. &»m££ she murmuied, asinah agony of Ibfr&anacew morse she threw herself on her knees i 'byJn|.» side, while- the teais feU from her 4>flpfe*J eyeß and "bet, he^d droope^-until her Jip&mßr hit). M foe attendee- 61 &flt Voraj at tiiff onoonsoiooer tenderness of her kuse£ thafe had all the anguish of a-larewell in theni, the oolour euddenly flaahed all over his blanched face, and a great, shivering sigU'xan'.aU throdgh him. "Gan nothing save hintf-?^ she waUed, piteously: "Oh, God grant that

"I am oontent," he whispered, sofUy. yDo not regretit." ■«• \ > ' , ' » ' ' •-I -«• Oh', my darUngl live for my- «*»•"•* , loveyo'ti. I wfll love you a* no man was ever loved before. Oh, George I you inurt^-you / thaUltvel" ' ■ ( ■<- ■«■•»• ;; « Too late, Alice, top late t" h« whispewd', a as hiir eyes met hers ibi aUong-lostlopk-ot unspeakable wlstfalneii and tendemeis; >„ • • He • «ank - back .•■ bo spoke*;- » de»Sa^r j; faintnessand coldness pasted over him, Sana ; he gasped' for breath. ! iA* momentr, and <the ■ teaoluto courago.iu Mm conquered ; hircjej ;■ opened and reifced lot a f m6ment on nii^dog •■; Cixlo, who:had,followed > hlm,._and;Whoto r^ flfti^ Tv»d flm»«fl ttfy<f«ir>t* remove fuScl-'me \?, room. The dog stood g«zhig"at hi* master with an earnest, sorrowful look. For the first time George's eyei filled with great teara^ astheyreated on his dog. Carlo had been •uoh' a- true' friend— jmoh an inseparable companion. ' . " I cannot apeak as I would," he said at length, while hiajvolce grew very faint. "Bat I hate lowd you. I forgir all. Do not grlete. Do not let an hour ot grief for me mar your peace, my loved one think of •me with no pain .Alice— only with some memory of our love. One last favour I would- ask. Be kind to' Carlo when I am gone.. Keep lamby you, and you will then aometimes^thmk oi me." ' " ' ' '.

These were the last words oh his utterance. His eyes met hers in one fleeting, upward glance of unui&rable tenderneaa, and with/a tired sigh, as one who links to ileep. nil lift fiid out for ever, while loud from tixe street below, borne upwards in the warm hush of the Summer*ight,rose the cry, "To Berlin I to Berlin 1" irom ; the throats of an excitea 1 and eluded^opulace. T -lOTcr«»n Popery ,