Short Story.

Otautau Standard and Wallace County Chronicle, Volume II, Issue 78, 25 September 1906, Page 2

Short Story.

XO» SOUL OF VIVIAN DARREL. It was Easter Eve. The moon was shining brightly, and the keen wind was hurrying along, and rapidly drying up the pools of water whioh were still lying on the roadway after the heavy showers which had fallen previously during the day. I passed from Fleet Street, through the archway of the Temple, and then onward into the quadrangle, past that quaint old fountain, around which (thanks to the master hand of our greatest novelist.) Btill linger memories of simple, true-hearted Tom Pinch and his sister Ruth. I had come on avißit to my old friond, Vivian Darrel. It was a surprise visit. Vivian was a widower, amd he lived alone m his rooms m the Temple. I had not seen or heard anything of him for some time past. A letter I had sent inviting him to spend Easter with myself and my wife, had, I found, miscarried, and as I had heard he had recently returned from the sea-side to his rooms, I had delcimined to present myself m propria persona and renew the invitation. The last timo I had soen him, he had been very unwell. In fact, this last visit had really been by order of the doctor, who had advised him of tho necessity for going to a seaside resoit for the timo being, if he wished not to endangor his life. On entering his room I was shocked at tbe change whioii had eomo over my poor friend. His face looked very pale, his hair waa turning grey, and ho had developed a distressing cough. He welcomed me warmly. 4 God bless you, old fellow,' he said. ' It's good of you to look me up like this. But there, I can't come to you:' party to-morrow. I should only be liko the skeleton which they used to exhibit at tiie old Eygyptian feasts. I should only cast a damper over your happy company. ' I uttered somo commonplace. Then he went on' I don't thiuk I shall remain on this side of terra firma imnih longer. I don't suppose I shall cumber the ground uext Christmas Eve. As Ilazulot says, ' What do such fellows as I between heaven and earth ?' We are not wanted, the world is well rid of us.' ' Oh, nonsense, old follow,' I answered, 4 You know you must forgive mo if I put all this down to liver complaint or something of the sort. We shall expect you to our place for dinner to-morrow as arranged. Come, I will take no denial.' Vivian, however, persisted m his unwillingness to come, and I was unable to arouse him from his despondency. 'Uo you know, Gilbert,' he Baid, 'Itis no wonder I feel unduly depressed to-night. This very evening, five years ago, Mary, my poor wife, died. Ab, I wasn't the same steady hard-working barrister then, that I am now. I was a wild youth. A man who lived for himself alone, and who cared for nothing that to-morrow might bring forth. I had plenty of money. I could indulge myself m every whim and wild dissipation my imagination could devise. In vain Mary warned me of my downward course. I would not heed her gentle warnings. Oh, those nights spent over wine and-cards among my old associates ! How pleasant they appeared to me then ! How black and horrible they seem now, when I look back at thorn through all the mist of years !' ' You must try and forget them,' I suggested. ' These painful recollections can do you uo good.' ' But I can never forget them !' he groaned, as he sank his head m his hands. We were sitting at the window, I drew up the blind, and we could see the Embankment m the distance, while behind it old Father Thames lay bathed m the silver moonlight. The beauty of the scene, however, teemed to whisper no consolation to his wounded spirit, and he went on, ' I can tell you I can never forget. Her pale, reproachful face always haunts mo. Her pure spirit could scarcely believe m the existence of evil. Again and again she begged me to pause ere it was too late. Soon I had squandered half my fortune, and was but a wreck of my former self. Had I not been blind, I could have seen, as everyone else saw, that my wife waa daily fading away, worn out by anxiety and disappointment. Fool that I was, I thought of nothing except the gratification of my own renseless follies until it was too lato. One day they came to me and told me that my wife was dead. Dead ! and through my coldnees and negleot.' ' I could nol shed a tear when she died. I moved about among men as one m a dream. I heard people Bpeak of me as cold and heart lets. They little knew the agony which was racking my breast. Gilbert ! God blows I have tried to lead a new life. I've gr.v?.n up all my old associates. I've worked have l , at my briefp, and burnt the midnight i.U, j.u>t so much to gain fame and money for Kiyeaif , ai because I have thought my work mi^himake me forget the memories of tbo terrible past, which is always with me, and which will be with me till I die.' 4 My poor friend,' I cried. *No human sympathy will avail me,' he continued.* 'l am lost utterly. I. shall never see my poor darling again. I may never reach that blight Paradise where her pure spirit dwells. I have Binned too much-. There is no forgiv*a6ss ' ' Therein always forgiveness,' l murmured, ' when there is true repentance. ' There is more joy m Heaven over one sinner that topenteth'—ycu know the rest Darrel. Take heart ! Your life vow, your life for the past five years, will atone for these sins and follies of your youth, and shall claim forgiveness for you.' 4 Ah, it's too lata now, Gilbert,' too late now,' he answered. ' God bless you for your kind words though.' With sorrowful heart I at last left him. full of anxiety over hia depressed health and spirits, and with a vague foreboding that this might perhaps be our last meeting. * * * * That night I had a curious dream. I thought I was m a strange and boautiful country, and my eyes were dazzled with its unearthly brightness. When I grew more accustomed to the light I perceived 1 waa surrounded by a throng of celestial beings who filled tho air with their heavenly music. And tho Judge sat on his throno. Then I heard a loud voice cry, ' Soul of Vivian Darrel come forth for Judgment !' And 1 looked again, and saw a man clad m earthly raiment, pale, haggard and trembling. It was Vivian Darrel. And there was a large pair of scales suspended m the air, and on one of these I saw an angel place a huge casket, on which was engraved 'The sins of Vivian Darrel.' While I looked on m amazement I saw tbe scales all weighed down on one side, for the casket waa very heavy, and there was nothing to balance it on tho other side. For a moment, the angels ceased their song. Their happy faces wore an anxious and pitying look. I glanced at Darrel, and I saw him fall on his knees m supplication to tho Judge. Then suddenly a very strange thiag happened. An angel stepped from out of the throng and threw something white into the scale. It was very small and very flimsy, but for all that it out-weighed the heavy casket which seemed but as light as air m comparison with it. And the Judge smiled. Then the angol who had caused this strange thing to pass came forward with a happy radiant light m her eyes, and uttering a cry of Joy, throw hersolf into Darrel's arms. And I heard him murmur 4 Wife.' Then behold his earthly raiment fell from hitn, and he became as the rest of the Heavenly throng.

After thi*, gaining courage. I approached the scales, to see what this little white objeot could be whioh had saved a human soul, and as I looked more closely at it, I found it was only a handkerchief wet with tears I 11. 5 - L _ Just as I had finished breakfast a**fc morn* i ing, the servant came into tho room with a > message that a lady had come to see me. ' She wished to speak to me on very particular business. I caused her to be shown into my s study, and found she waa Vivian Darrel's ■ housekeeper. L I expressed my astonishment at seeing her • at this early hour and hoped that my friend ' was no worse. L 'Ah, sir,' she replied, wiping her eyes. 'Poor gentleman, you will never speak to i him again. He died by the fireside, while sitting m his armchair last night. It was t only a few minutes after you had left him, ' and when I found him, his hands were clasped tightly together as though he had been pray- ' Oh, sir, come to us at once. You will excuse my troubling you so, but the poor 1 gentleman had few friends and you are the only one of them whose address I know.' At once I hurried off with the good woman 1 and a cab soon brought us to the Temple. We stole softly and reverently up the wainscoted staircase into tho chamber of the dead ■ man. My poor friend lay stretched upon the oouch, his hands folded across hia bosom. His features were calm aud composed. All » tho hard lines and wrinkles seemed to have faded away. He had a smile upon his face such as I hsd never seen m his life • ' time. I could clearly hear the message borne by the Easter bells from the church hard ' *>y=- . .. ; ':_ Tho"strife is o'or, the battle done ! \ 1 Tho victor;- of Life is won : The song of triumph has begun,— Alleluia. Ah ! Their musio could not reaoh the dull cold ear of my dear friend. Yet why should I grieve for him, I thought. 4 After life's fitful fever he sleeps well., The weary, storm-tost bark is now safe m the haven of Eternal Rest. I knew that the soul of Vivian Darrel has found peace at last. — Charles D. Steele. - , ■. . ■ ' ■ , -3.