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A DEAD HOPE.
Written for the Morning \flrs.
Tread softly when you reach that sunless region
Deep in my heart,
Which hides from thoughts whose name is
A thing apart.
Tread softly, tis true the dead sleep soundly,
From dreams quite free,
Yet sleep my beauteous dead ne’er so pro
I'd have you be.
Gentle indeed, when you draw near that pallid
And lift the sheet.
To look upon the passionless dead face of her
Who made my life sweet.
And if you start in awe at the unearthly beauty
Of that dead face:
Think what it must have been while life yet
Think of the eyes, whose steady tender shining,
Soothed pain to rest.
The voice, when music drowned life’s harshest
Within my breast.
The strange, glad smile that turned into day
All shadowy places,
Whose mere reflection lent a brighter beauty
To other faces.
The subtle, sweet thrill that passed through all
And which yet lingers.
That once was mine thro’ the mere magic touch
Of these marble fingers.
Too late for tears! And, yes—a blest Faith
That in a brighter land.
Haply I’ll find my one sweet hope who perished
By your own hand. —Pats.
MORNING NEWS LIBRARY NO. ‘2B.
SomancF of iuchmonK
BY WALTER M. RICHMOND.
Copyrighted , 1887, by J. H. Estill.
Farewell Thou has (rampled love's faith in the
Thou has torn from my bosom its hope and its
trust. — Hoffman.
It. was the first day of August.
Charlie, in company wit h two of bis min
isterial associates, had left two days before
for a five-weeks’ sojourn among the Cats
kills. His mother and sister were to leave
for the White Sulphur on the morrow.
Mrs. Woodbury had finished packing her
trunk, and was now assisting Florine in
jiacking hers, and, as the two was thus en
gaged, the elder lad} - suddenly exclaimed;
"My, deal-, you don’t look happy to-day.
Are you feeling unwell? Or are you sad
because you are going to leave Virgil? lam
sure be has promised to spend every other
Sunday with ' -a.”
Florine was silent for a minute; then ex
“Oh, mother, I had such a horrible dream
last nigat, and it has troubled me all the
“A dream!” said Mrs. Woodbury, laugh
ing lightly. "Surely you would not allow
such a tUi\-<, to worry you ? It is only ig
norant peopii, my dear child, that are har
rassed by dreams and signs. But can you
not relate this dream that has thrown such
a damper upon your usually gay spirit?”
With a shudder Florine said;
“I dreamed that I was seated in the par
lor awaiting the appearance of Virgil, when
suddenly the door was thrown violently
open, and he rushed in the room, and, oh,
mother, his face and hands were dyed with
“ ‘Oh, you false, wicked woman 1 you
heartless flirt!’ he exclaimed, shaking his
fingers at me. ‘You have done it all, and
1 hate you with all my heart,’ and he
started to strike me. but in the attempt fell
to the floor, and, with an awful groan, died.
Ob, mother! mother! It was just horrible!”
and the speaker hid her face in her hands
gnd shuddered from head to foot.
Mrs. Woodbury, too, felt a thrill of horror
creep over her frame, but, assuming a
smile, presently said in a playful voice:
"Perhaps, my daughter, you have a sen
sational novel concealed beneath your pil
low, and are in the habit of reading a chap
ter or two before retiring at night.’’
Florine’s lip: curled contemptuously.
“Do you think the affianced wife of Vil
gil Paine would so sully her womanhood as
to read a novel whose tone was immoral or
plot improbable? No, mother,” she added,
in a gentler tone. "I read nothing last
night. After parting with Virgil, I retired
directly, and 1 assure you I never felt hap
pier in my life as I dropped off to sleep,”
By noon the two ladies had finished their
Mrs. Woodbury took up a palm leaf fan,
and the morning paper. Passing into her
own boudoir she threw herself upon a
lounge and began a diligent search for the
White Sulphur letter.
Florine descended to the library, and, tak
ing up a book she had been reading the day
before, tried to become interested in the
contents, but, failing to do so, she petulantly
tossed it aside and restlessly walked up and
down the floor.
A vigorous ring of the bell suddenly
startled her, and, scarcely kn wing what she
was doing, she rushed out in the hall.
"It was only the postman, Miss Florine,”
said the footman, coming toward her. “A
letter for you.”
Florine took the letter from the servant's
hand and returned to the library.
"I wonder whom it is from?” she ex
claimed, as her eyes dwelt for a moment
upon the superscription, which was written
in a beautiful Spencerian hand. “It is post
marked Springfield, Mass., July 22. Good
ness! It ought to have reached me more
than a week ago. I wonder what could
have delayed it so?”
By this time she had broken the seal. The
contents of the letter ran thus:
“Springfield, Mass., July 21,18—.
“My Angelic Darling— l actually
cursed the fate that compelled me to leave
you as soon as we landed in New Yyrk, for
1 was thus cheated of two days of your so
ciety. After five weeks of intense' suffer
ing, my grandfather died day before yester
day, leaving my cousin, Anthony Crane,
and myself a million and a half each, the
estate being valued at three millions. A
million and a half! Just think how wealthy
lam! You will live like a queen, won’t
you, darling? Oh, Florine, heaven alone
knows what I have suffered since we part
ed. You don’t know how wearily time has
and ragged by. The past 11 vo weeks has seemed
a century. I am thinking of you always, my
sweet. You occupy my whole thoughts
when I am awake, and when I fall asleep
you are hovering like an angel over my pil
low. God bless you, my beautiful, black
eyed queen! Ob, 1 cannot llie without
you! Do you remember the delightful
promenades we used to have on deck on our
voyage to America? Shall I forget the
night—that lieautiful, moonlight night—
when I asked you to be my w ile ? Shall I
evor forget how you raised your glorious
orbs, so lull of love, to mine, and promised
in accents, sweet and low, to become my
bride? I know darling, you have been lone
ly and, oh, so wretched without me. 1 am
coming to see you in a few days, and then
we will acquaL.it your mother with our be
“My cousin, Anthony Crane, is going
South with me. He is very anxious to see
you, as I speak so often and glowingly of
“1 must bring my epistle to a termina
tion now. Au re voir, my angel.
“I am, lovingly and eternally yours,
“How foolish and love-sick!'' muttered
the girl, as she proceeded to tear the disgust
ing letter in tiny bits. “1 thought he had
forgotten me by this time. I wonder if the
poor, white-headed mail is conceited enough
to think 1 am really in love with him, or
■would ever become his wife? 1 wouldn’t
marry the msignificicant, self-important
wretch if he possessed all tbe wealth of the
New England States! There was a tune,
however, in my iife when money held a
great charm for me. But that time has
passed away, i would rather be Virgil
Paine’s wife, with just enough money to
keep me in comfort, than to be any other
man's wife, even though ho had the wealth
of the Rothschilds at his command! That
fellow has a lot of impudence to think of
coming here, hasn’t he? I hope if ho dares
to do such a thing the train will run off the
track, or something else wiil happen to pre
vent his coining.”
Then, seized with repentance for such ut
terances, she exclaimed to herself a mo
“Oh, what a wicked wretch I am! Am I
not to blame for it all? Did I not lead this
fair fellow to believe that I loved him? Did
not do everything to make him fall in love
with me? Did I not even promise to be his
wife, although I had no idea of ever doing
so? Ah, how Virgil would be shocked if he
knew how I hud flirted with this man and
■vith scores of others! Ido believe his love
for me would turn to hatred! No longer
than yes e-day he expressed his detestation
of coquettes, and declared that no honora
ble man or woman would stoop to so con
temptible a practice as flirting. Ah, if he
knew what a heart less coquette I have been!
Good Lenl! Suppose he should meet Mar
vin, aud hear from the man’s lips how
ridiculously I have carried on with him!
That dream, oh, heaven 1” and a frightened
look came into the girl’s eyes.
Directly after leaving England Floriue
became acquainted with the writer of the
above letter. He was the only single man
among the passengers, and, to render the
voyage less monotonous, she at once began
a flirtatiou with him. He soon lella victim
to her charms, and, before the steamer was
half way across the Atlantic, confessed his
love, and daily thereafter pressed his suit
until at last Fiorine, in fun, as couqettes
often do, promised to become his wile, al
though she had not the least intention of
ever keeping her promise. Ou arriving in
New York, he was met by his cousin, An
thony Crane, who informed him of the seri
ous illness of their grandfather. Though it
was like tearing his heart from his breast to
thus part from the woman he so passion
ately loved, and who he belieyed loved him
in return. Marvin felt it his duty to de
part at once for home, and so, in company
with his cousin, left immediately for Spring
The parting did not cause Fiorine the
least pain. On the contrary, she was glad
to get rid of him, for before they had
reached the end of the voyage she had
grown weary of his society, and longed to
make new couquests.
“Thank heaven! he is gone—tbe insuf
ferable bore!”she muttered, a few minutes
after his departure. “He is the softest crab
I ever saw! What a fool I made of him!
In a month or two he will be the plaything
of some other coquette, and be fawning at
her feet! Ido hate suen men, although it
does me good to take advantage of their
With these words Fiorine dismissed Mar
vin from her thoughts, cariug little
whether she ever saw or heard of him
again. No wonder that the above letter,
announcing his purpose of coming to Rich
mond, should have alarmed the young lady,
who, since her betrothal to him, had prom
ised her baud in marriage to another man.
What if the two men should meet?
“If Virgil should discover how false I
have been to this man,” she moaned, wring
ing her hands, “wouldn’t he think that i
was false to him also? O, if the two should
meet 1 If the two should meet 1 Good Lord,
have mercy upon me!”
The bell startled her again. She did not
rise this time, but sat trembling like a cul
prit on whom the dread sentence of the
court is soon to be pronou nc'-d.
The visitor was Virgil. Through the
open door she heard him say to the foot
“Good morning, Tom. If Miss Fiorine is
in, will you please to give her my card and
say to her that I desire her presence in the
parlor at once. I’ll detain her only a few
“What on earth does he want?’ said the
girl to herself. “I have never yet had a
visit from him at this hour of the day. Oh,
mv Lord, suppose that simpleton Marvin,
learning of our engagement, has written to
Virgil. I wish I were dead! I am so un
At this moment Tom, poking his head
into the library, handed her Virgil’s card
and, delivering the latter’s message, bowed
She arose, threw the bits of paper out of
the window, and, with a wildly-beating
heart, made her way to the parlor. As she
entered the room Virgil advanced toward
her, warmly pressed her hand, and, after
the usual salutation, said:
“Fiorine, I have been called to Powhatau
court house on some very important, busi
ness, and must leave for that place on the
1 o’clock packet. As I shall be unable to
return before you leave for the springs I
have called to bid you good-by.”
“Which was very kind of you,” replied
the young lady, reassured by his manner
that nothing had occurred so far to de
throne herself in his affections.
“I hope you will have a good time at the
White Hulphnr,” continued the young law
yer, “and that you will meet with no man
whose good looks and fascinating manners
will cause you to repent of our engage
“There isn’t living a man handsome or
fascinating enough to rival you in my af
fections, Virgil,” said Fiorine, with a ten
“My darling!" and he reverently raised
her hand to his lips and kissed it.
A moment's silence ensued. Then Virgil
“I must go now, Fiorine.”
“Why, Virgil, you haven’t been here
“Well, 1 came only to bid you good-by.”
he replied. “I cannot visit you before the
lfith—two weeks from to-morrow—and un
til then I shall expect a letter at least twice
a woek, and long lettere at that— not less
than two whole sheets of foolscap Tell
Mrs. Woodbury good-by forme, for I haven’t
a minute more to lose. Good-by, my dear.”
Lovingly be drew her to his bosom; fond
ly he gazed on the dark, beautiful face
upturned to his. Once, twice he pressed his
lips to hers. Then pausing for a half min
ute, as if loth to leave her, he was about to
kigs her again, when the door was thing vio
open, and a .short, stout, liglit-com-
Sued man rushed into the room and
abruptly before the lovers.
The intruder was Marvin.
Fiorine uttered a low frightened scream
and buried her face on Virgil’s breast.
“Becalm, Fiorine,”said the young law
yer, in his gentlest tones. Then, turning to
Marvin, he said angrily: “What do you
mean, sir, by this intrusion? Look how you
have frightened this young lady! What is
the meaning of your strange conduct?
Speak, or I’ll lead you to the door! The
servant, I am sure, did not usher you in here
Marvin glared savagely at our hero
“No one ushered me in here,” the former
replied. “As I was about to ring the bell,
I heard Florine’s voice through the ojien
window, and, creeping up to it, I saw you,
you scoundrel, with her in your arms, and
your lips pressed to hers.”
“And wliat if you did, sir?’ demanded
Virgil. “1 should like to know what Flo
rine Morriss is to you?’
“She is my affianced wife.”
“Your affianced wife!” refloated our hero,
staring at Marvin as though ho thought the
mau a lunatic.
“Yes my affianced wife, and as sure as l
am living I mean to have your heart’s
blood, you scoundrel!”
Such threats did not at all frighten Vir
gil. Marvin was not the first bully he had
ever seen. Richmond, as well as other
places, had her full share of men of this
“Fiorine,” said the young lawyer, raising
the girl’s head from his bosom. "Fiorine!
Do you know this man? Is what ho says
Tbe girl made no reply save a wild, agon
“Of course she knows me,” said Marvin,
promptly. “We came from England to
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, DECEMBER 18, 1887.
America on the same steamer. A mutual
love sprang up between us, and before half
our voyage was ended wo were engaged.”
“Fiorine, is this man telling the
truth?” said Virgil, urniug again to the
“Oh, Virgil! Have mercy upon mo!” she
wailed, hiding her face again on his bosom.
“Why don’t you answer me, Fiorine?”
he sternly demanded. “Did you ever prom
ise to become this man’s wife?
“I—l did,” she faltered.
All tenderness faded from Virgil’s face,
and a look of contempt settled upon his
features. He roughly pushed her from him
as though she had been a reptile.
“And you have been flirting with me
these five weeks, have you?' he cried, his
eyes blazing with anger. “Such smiles and
tender words were the baits by which you
drew me into your trap. Fiorine Morriss,
five minutes ago I loved you with all my
heart—now I loathe you! I have the utmost
contempt for flirts, as I have told you be
fore. I despise dishonorable people!”
“Oh, Virgil! Virgil! Don’t speak so!
My heart, oh, my heart is breaking!” wailed
the poor girl. “It was he”—pointing to
Marvin—“l flirted with! I couldn’t have
flirted with you You threw an awe over
me from the first. Virgil, you are the only
man I ever loved or the only one I could
ever love! Oh, Virgil, don’t look at me so
scornfully, so angrily! Dou’t you believe I
love you ?”
“Flbrine, I cannot trust you,” he said,
with more of sadness than of anger in his
voice. “My love for you is dead!”
“Have mercy upon me! My heart is
"Hearts like yours don’t break so easily,”
was the scornful reply. “A week or two’s
flirtations at the springs, I dare say, will
entirely heal your breaking heart.”
“Fiorine,” said Marvin, at this juncture,
holding out his arms toward the girl.
“Surely you don’t love that heartless man!
No, no, you don’t love him! He has only
fascinated you, as a serpent fascinates a
bird. Come back to me, my darling, your
first love, and all shall be forgiven!”
“Leave me! Leave me!” raved Fiorine,
pointing to the door.
“Then you really love him—that pusil
lanimous puppy?” shaking his finger at Vir
Every vestige of color faded from Vir
§i)’s face. Forth from his magilifieent eyes
ashed the fire of jstifiable anger. In
stantly his fists were clenched, and forget
ting where he was—forgetting all save the
insult offered—he struck the man who stood
before him two terrible blows in the breast.
When Marvin had regained his breath, he
shook his fist in Virgii’s face and said with
“You wouldn’t dare strike a man your
size, you strapping coward!”
“Little men ought to mind how they in
sult large men,” exclaimed our hero, who
found it difficult to refrain from striking
Marvin uttered an oath.
“i wouldn’t strike a man in a lady’s par
lor. We’ll settle this upon the field of honor,”
he exclaimed, his throat expanding and
straightening himself up to his full height,
“and before this time to-morrow I mean to
have your heart’s blood. Do you hear,
“I certainly hear and understand,” coolly
Marvin uttered another oath.
“Can you give me your address?’ he
“Certainly,” answered the young law
yer, regarding him with superb disdain.
“My address is second floor, - building,
Main street, near the post office. ”
'Tis hard, indeed, if nothing ivill defend
Mankind from quarrels, but their fatal end;
That now and then a hero must decease.
That the surviving world maj live in pe e.
Perhaps, at last, close scrutiny may show
The practice dastardly, and mean, and low;
That men engage in it, compelled by force,
And fear, not courage, is its proper source;
The fear of tyrant custom, and the fear
Lest fops should censure us, and fools should
At least to trample on our Maker's laws,
And hazard life for any or no cause.
Six o’clock! As two of the town bells
simultaneously chimed forth the hour, Vir
gil arose from the lounge on which he had
been lying for the last half an hour aud be
gan to pace the floor.
All arrangements for a duel between him
self and Marvin were completed, and at
sunrise on the morrow the two were to meet
on the so-called “field of honor.” Oh, what
would the next twenty-four hours bring
forth? Would tt o’clock of to-morrow after
noon find him cold in death, or, mor than
that, would it find him a murderer ? Heaven
forbid! All on a sudden he realized the
horror of his situation —the sinfulness of the
step he was about to take. Perspiration
came out in great cold drops upon his brow;
a wild, miserable look settled upon his face,
and from his lips issued forth a deep groan.
Oh, what a terrible mistake he had made!
What a reproach he had cast upon Chris
tianity by accepting a challenge to light a
duel! Why had he not returned the chal
lenge to the parvenu who had sent it and
thrashed him for his insolence? If he
should kill his antagonist could he ever bo
happy again? Aud if he himself should be
killed, what hope would he have of enter
ing into that “rest that remaineth for the
people of God,” when he had gone upon the
duelling field with a murderous intention?
Would be ever be found among “that great
multitude of all nations and kindreds and
people and tongues that stand before the
throne and before the Lamb, clothed with
robes and with palms in their hands?”
“Oh, God, don’t forsake me!” he cried,
with a tortured, imploring glance upward.
Then, scarcely knowing what he was do
ing, he put on his hat and passed down into
the street. Up Main to Cherry, down the
latter street to Hollywood, he wended his
way, as if drawn by an irresistible Impulse,
until he stood beside his mother's tomb.
He wijied the perspiration from his face
and stood a moment in perfect silence.
Then as tbe sweet face of his mother arose
before him —or rather seemed to rise—he
dropjied upon the curbing and wept unre
strainedly for more than five minutes. The
sorrows of his boyhood could not he com
pared with the misery he now endured.
Those sorrows had arisen from the sins of
another. His present anguish sp ting from
the consciousness that he was about to break
one of his Maker’s commandments.
The rays from tiie setting sun streamed
througb the branches of a majestic oak and
fell in soft, golden arrows on the words on
Mrs. Fames monument, “And Her Rest
Shall Be Glorious.” it lie should no kdied
by ins antagonist, would his rest bo glori
ous? If lovmg friends should erect above
his sleeping do t a monument, could they
appropriately carve tnc eon the words,
“And liis Rest Buail Be Glorious?’ Asms
conscience was putting these and other
questions to him, V’irgU heard a quick step
near him. He turned and saw Pauline coin
ing swiftly toward him. Her face was as
white as ta marble tombs about her; her
eyes wore a troubled expression, aud her
whole manner told at a glance that she was
in a state of great agitation.
“Oh, Virgil! Virgil!” she exclaimed, and
with his name upon her lips she dropped on
the curbing be-ide him aud buried her face
in her hands.
“ What is the matter, Paulie ?” he inouired,
kindly. “Has aynthing frightened you?
Has anybody dared to insult my little sis
“Oh, no,” she answered, looking up in his
face. “Virgil, is it timer
“Is what time, Pauline?”
“That vou have so far forgotten Christ
and Ins religion ns to think of resorting to
the barbarous code as a means of obtaining
satisfaction for an insult?’
Virgil did not reply at once.
“Answer me, Virgil Paine!” cried the
girl, provoked at his silence. “Oh, Virgil,
is it so ?'
“It is, Pauline,” he replied, with a pained
expression. “But what busy body has been
meddling himself with my affairs'!”
“1 called on Flonne an hour ago, and
found her heart-broken. Poor girl! Who
told mo of all her trouble, and ox presses!
her fears that the diuicußy between you
and Marvin would end in a duel. As soon
as she id, mated such a thing, I started to
your office to remonstrate with you against
engaging in a duel. On my way down
town 1 came suddenly in contact with Dr.
Evans and Mr. Wnrde at tbe corner of
Fourth and Franklin. They wore chi vers
ing very low and earnestly. These words,
however, fell upon my hearing as I passed
“ ‘We must keep the matter a profound
secret to avoid arrest.’
“I knew what they meant, aud the re
mainder of the way I fairly ran. W r beu l
reached your office Uncle Jerry informed
me you had just gone out. As i reached
the pavement 1 saw you three blocks ahead,
and, determined to see you or die in the at
tempt, I followed you out here.”
She paused and gasped for breath.
“Paulie, you have needlessly fatigued
yourself. Allow me to fan you with my
"No, I thauk you. All the hats and fans
in the world could not cool me now," she re
plied, dryly. “Oh, Virgil, dou’t engage in
this duel. Take Fiorine again to your
heart. She acted dishonorably in flirting
with Marvin. But can you not forgive her
for her past weaknesses? She never flirted
with you. She loves you dearly. Take her
back to your heart. Wifi you not, Vir
"Never. Pauline,” he answered, (Irmly,
yet in an ineffably sad voice. “I can liver
trust her again. Ah, Pauline, if all women
were like you—pure and honorable-there
would be tew duels fought.”
“And if all men had sense and discretion,
there would be no duels fought,” quickly
replied the young lady. “Virgil, you regard
me as you would a sister, do you not ?’
“1 do, Paulie. As you sit beside me now
you seem nearer to my heart thun you ever
did before;” and he took her hand in his
own. “Florine’s shallow, dishonorable na
ture renders your character doubly pure
and bright. Ah, little sister, if all women
were like you; You are a good, true
woman. But-, Pauline, why did you ask
that question just now? Did you think 1
had suddenly lost faith in womankind? Did
you think me so narrow-minded as to judge
all your sex by your cousin ?”
“If you look upon me as a sister, you will
heed what I say,” she said, taking no no
tice of his queries. “Reconsider this mat
ter and witudraw your acceptance of the
“Would you have me branded as a cow
“Who would brand you as such? Only
fops aud bullies —t he class of men you have
always denounced in the severest terms, and
as to whose opinion you have hitherto been
utterly indifferent. Ah, Virgil, a great
revolution has suddenly taken place in your
nature! You seem now to fear tbe censure
of these moil more than that of Christian
men. If you will obey my wish, I assure
you that all noble-minded, Christian peop e
will admire you for your manliness. Did
you not strike Marvin at the time for the
insult? How could they then call you a
coward? Why do you propose to resort
to the barbarous custom of dueling,
which generally results in the death of on
antagonist and in rendering the surviving
one a miserable, conscience-haunted mau
for the remainder of his days? Ah, if I
had been a man, and a Christian one, too, I
would manfully have returned the challenge
“Didn’t your father and mine fight a duel
in their early manhood?” asked Virgil,
“Were they upstarts or bullies? Weren’t
they high-toned, honorable young men?”
“I presume so. But they were not Chris
tians. Papa did not embrace Christianity
until I was 10 years old, and I have heard
you sav your father never became a Chris
tian. You see now, Virgil.it is different
with you. You profess to be a Christian,
and have been such ever since you were 14
Sears old, at which age you say you were
aptized and received into the fellowship of
the church. Oh. Virgil, how vour poor
mother's heart would be wrung with anguish
now if she were living! You loved her very
dearly, and her memory is very sacred to
you. You would like to meet her again.
The hope of a reunion in heaven cheered
you when God took her from you, and
through the years that have pass 'd since her
death tiiis blessed hope has shown with un
diminished lustre. It you should be killed
in this duel in which you propose toengago,
do you think you would meet her again,
when you went upon the‘fieid of honor,’as
it is called, with murder iu your heart?
Doubtless were your mother living, her
tears and entreaties might dissuade you
from your mad purpose. May I not speak
for the dead? Oh, Virgil, Virgil —for the
sake of her who is no longer with her boy
to keep him from evil—for the sake of Mil
ton, your innocent, beautiful little brother,
who loves you so devotedly, and whom you
love with equal devotion—for tlie sake of
your little sister—for the sake of your many
friends, and, above all, for the sake of your
soul’s welfare, cancel your acceptance of
She paused, her cheeks flashed with ex
citement, her blue eyes filled with tears.
There were also tears in the young lawyer’s
eyes. He took her hand again in his own
“Paulie, you have completely unnerved
me. Your eloquent pleading lias moved mo
deeply ; but still, litt.e sis er, I cannot act as
you wish mo to do. I must meet Marvin on
the dueling field, and abide tiie result.”
He uttered a heavy groan as he ceased
Pauline withdrew her hand from his
clasp, and, with flashing eyes, said:
“I might have known it was useless to
argue with one of your inflexible will. I
might as well have attempted to persuade
the tombs about me to turn to snow. But 1
thought I might jiossibly prevail with you
to abandon your wicked purpose. As I have
failed, however, in my mission, I will go
She arose as she finished speaking.
“No. Pauline, not until Igo Sit down a
The unhappy face of the man she loved
touched her heart. She complied with his
“Oh, Virgil, my poor, misguided brother,”
she cried, as her whole soul went out in ten
derness to the uuhanpy man. “My heart
bleeds for you, my poor, poor friend! If you
should kill Marvin i sUouid never be happy
again; and if he should kill you—”
She stop[ied suddenly, unable to finish the
sentence, and, burying her face iu her hands,
“And if I should be killed, what tbon,
little sister?’ inquired Virgil, with u sigh.
“Oh, don’t talk of it!” she answered.
“Come, let us go. The sun has set.”
The two arose. Virgil offered her his
arm, which she accepted, and for several
minutes they walked on in silence. At
length the young lady turned to her com
panion aud asked:
“Does Milton know anything about this
“No. You know be went with a crowd
of other children on a picnic early this
morning and has been gone all day. Con
sequenlly, he is ignorant of what has hap
pened. Poor lit-tio folio wl”
The young lawyer wiped a tear from his
eye and said:
“Pauline, I wish to say a few words in re
gard to Milton. You love him very dearly,
do you not?’
“If he were my own brother my affection
for tbe child could not be greater.”
“And he loves you, doesn’t he?’
“Yes; I have every reason to believe that
“Well, then, Paulie, if I should fa 1 in
this duel will you promise me that you will
take him—my poor little brother whom I
love so dearly—to your hoart and home,
guide him with your counsel, remember him
always in your prayers, see iat lie is i lior
oughly educated, and, above all other things,
will you do all in your power to keep nun—
my now pure, innocent brother—from the
corrupting influence of reckless and wicked
youtlis. Pauline, lam a poor man. 1 have
no money, as you know, save that which my
Practice yields. Consequently, if 1 should
b silled. Milton would be lelt almost pen
niless. That he would find true friends in
you and your generous-hearted parents, I
have not the least doubt. Directly after
my mother’s death your father want**! to
take Milton and mi self to Ins home and
roar anil educate us ns his own children, and
recently, hearing of Milton’s aversion to
Florine, vour parents proposed to me that
he should live with them after Florine and
I were married. Mr. Morris* would, of
course, do u father's part by Milton, and it
is my wish, should I be lulled, that the child
should take up his abode in your family,
and 1 feel assured that he will never boa
burden to your parents. Milton has a proud,
independent spirit, and when he has at
tained manhood 1 know he will repay every
cent expended u|ui him.”
“Virgil Paine!” exclaimed Pauline, “do
you think papa would ever accept a cent
from Milton? Never! We should consider
it a task of love to rear and educate one we
love so dearly. All we should ask of t h.t
boy m return for our kindness to him would
be that lie would grow up a noble, Chris
tian man, and thus lie the pride and joy of
On through the lonely, beautiful ceme
tery, as (lie shadows deepened about them —
on m tortured silence they walked. Al
though her bravo young heart was almost
broken, the privilege of being with the man
she loved in the darkest, hour of his life af
forded Pan line a pleasure which she would
not have been clouied for all the wealth of
It was 7:30 when they reached the tobac
conist’s home. Virgil did not leave his
companion at the gate, hut, walked with her
to the foot of the front step, where they
halted. They bad not spoken a word on
their way save those we have recorded, and
it was a lull minute after they paused at the
steps ere either could speak. At length the
young lawyer took the girl’s hand tu his
own and murmured.:
“Good-by, little si ter. Love and watch
over Milton. Return my sincere thanks to
your parents l oi- ail the kindnesses they have
shown the two hoys in their orphanage. Ask
them to pray for me to-night, and you, too,
little sinter. typist r<jngemhcr me in your
prayers. GOod-by jPan lie.”
Possessed of an impulse he could not re
sist, he strained her to his breast, and for
the first time- in his life kissed her, after
which he hurried dowu the walk.
ITO BE CONTINUED. 1
For Throat and Cough* uso
Brown's Bronchial Troches. Like all really
good things, they are imitated. The genuine
are sold only in boxe*.
BOOTS AND SHOES.
GIVEN AWAY WITH EVERY PAIR OF
Come and see our magnifi
cent array of desirable Shoes
now more complete than ever
before, embracing styles of
every imaginable description,
and suitable for the Baby and
every stage in life to old age.
This is ‘‘NO humbug,” and if
you desire to see Shoes stacked
from floor to ceiling we will
take pleasure in showing you
goods necessary for use in
every-day and dress wear,
which must be seen to be ap
Our stock of Fancy Slippers
for Holiday Presents repre
sent the handsomest designs
of Plain and Chenille Em
broidered Plush, and are the
nicest in the city.
Remember the place.
17 Whitaker Street.
VICTORS OVER ALL COMPETITORS
r PHF. first premium awarded to our GRAND
1 TIMES COOK BROADWAY and FOR
TUNE RANGE. Call and see the prize winners.
The best goods and e<st less than any offered in
this market. The largest stock and best se
lections of Cook and Heating Stoves in this city.
Cornwell & Chipman,
167 BROUGHTON STREET.
W. J. MARSHALL. H. A. M'LEOD.
MARSHALL & McLEOD,
Auction and General Commission Merchants,
Real Estate and Stocks and Bonds
Broughton Street, Savannah, Ga.
ATTENTION GIVEN TO RENTING OF
HOUSES AND COLLECTING RENTS.
SAVANNAH STEAM \MM,
131 Congress Street,
Does Ijuindry work of every description In
first class style and at short notice.
Work called for and delivered.
Customers are protected against loss by fire.
JOHN H. FOX,
TT m. cl © x* P a-kiez?,
CORNER LIBERTY AND WHITAKER STS.
We are too Busy to Say Much,
But we will say Such Facts
that will cause you to
spend' your Money
with us provided
Money is an ob
ject to you.
We have determined not to wait until after Christmas,
when nobody wants Winter Goods, to make a closing out
sale, but we will do it right now, while (he public stands in
need of such goods. We positively have reduced prices on
all of our Winter Goods fully one-third, and therefore offer
such bargains as will do you all good. We will close out at
Our elegant stock of DRESS GOODS.
Our magnificent stock of BLACK SILKS.
Our excellent stock of COLORED SILKS.
Our beautiful stock of Priestley’s MOURNIN G GOODS.
Our immense stock of English tailor-nnufe Walking
Jackets, Our Plush Jackets’and Wraps, Our Newmarkets,
Russian Circulars, and our large stock of MISSES’ and CHIL
The same reductions —one-third off-—we offer in Blank
ets, Shawls, Flannels, Ladies’ and Gent’s Underwear, Hosiery
of all kinds, Comfortables, Housekeeping Goods, Gold-Headed
Umbrellas, Silk and Linen Handkerchiefs, etc.
NOW IS YOUR TIME FOR REAL BARGAINS.
GOODS FOR CHRISTMAS PRESENTS
AT OUR BAZAR.
Tlis Grandest, Most Bitusin, Tie Most Elegant,
AS WELL AS THE CHEAPEST
To be found anywhere in the city, Wc can’t enumerate the
articles because the variety is too large.
Do not fail to examine our stock; we simply offer you
such a line as can only be found in a first-class house in
Special Bargains This "Week:
A 25-cent full regular CENT’S HALF HOSE for - - -10 c.
A 25-cent full regular LADIES’ HOSE for ...... 10c.
A 25-cent DAMASK TOWEL for 10c.
A 25-cent CHILDREN’S UNDERSHIRT for 10c.
A 25-cent GENT’S UNDERSHIRT for 10c.
A 25-cent NECK SHAWL for 10c.
A 25-cent HAIR BRUSH for ......... sc.
A 25-cent RED TWI LL FLANNEL for lc.
A PURE LINEN DAMASK NAPKIN for sc.
A 5-cent PAPER NEEDLES for lc.
A 5-cent PAPER PINS for ......... lc.
A 50-cent JERSEY for 25c.
153 BROUGHTON STREET, SAVANNAH, GA.
To the Public.
Prapstins lor Spring ml Sumer 1888.
The unprecedented trade in our Millinery Business dur
ing 1887 is owing to the constantly adding of Novelties and
the immense increase of our stock, which is doubtless the
Lakgl i of Any Retail Millinery in America, exclusive of
New York, and our three large floors cannot hold them.
Already our importations, Direct from Europe, are ar
riving, and on Our Third Floor we are opening Novelties
for Spring and Summer in Ribbons, French Flowers and
Feathers in the Most Beautiful and Novel Shades. We
are sorry to be compelled, for want of room, to close our
Winter Season so soon, which has been so very successful,
and from to-day all our Felt Hats, Fancy Feathers and
Trimmed Hats will be sold at any price. Our Ribbon Sale
will continue until further notice.
MAMMOTH MILLINERY HOUSE.
W VTC I IKS AM) .JEWELRY.
WATCHES, DIAMONDS, JEWELKI, FANCV GOODS.'
THE US BROS.,
Successors to S. P. Hamilton.
ASTE hare added to our stock during the pa*t week many NOVELTIES IN JEWELRY which It
VV Is impossible to enumerate in advertisement.
Our line of LACE PINS IN FLOWERS, rivalling nature in shape and texture, as well as
BROOCHES and other styles, are the very latest conceits in the Jeweler's Art.
GOLD CIGARETTE HOLDERS, SOLID SILVER HANDLE STEEL BI.ADED KNIVES, GARTER
CLASPS IN SILVER, LADIES' COLLAR BUTTONS, SILVER HANDLE UMBRELLAS.
A most Ireaiitiful line of FANCY RINGS IN DIAMOND AND RUBY, DIAMOND AND SAP
PHIRE. DIAMOND AND EMERALD. Certainly the mostfelegaiit lotof COLORED STONES
ever seen in Savannah.
Special effort will be made by Us this week toward supplying our Friends’ wants in our Line,
Vale Royal Manufacturing Cos,
H. P. SMART, QA'V7A fSJ KT ATT H- A T - c BKYAN.
President. OA. V itlN IN All, UTJn.. Socfy and Treat
CYPRESS, OAK, POPLAR, YELLOW PINE, ASH, WALNUT.
M anufacturers of sash, doors, blinds, mouldings or an kinds and description*
CASINGS and TRIMMINGS for all classes of dwellings, PEWS and PEW ENDS of our own
design and manufacture, TURNED and SCROLL BALUSTERS, ASH HANDLES for Cotton
Hooka, CEILING, FLOORING, WaJNSC OTTING, SHINGLES.
Warehouse and Up-Town Office: West Broad and Broughton Sts,
Factory and Mills: Adjoining Ocean Steamship Co.’s Wharves,