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had no clear perception of what it was abject threats, the colossal scale of his I really wanted. Perhaps it was an vile desires, the meanness, the torment, impulse of unconscious loyalty, or the the tempestuous anguish of his soul. fulfilment of one of these ironic neces- And later on his collected languid mansities that lurk in the facts of human ner, when he said one day, 'This lot existence. I don't know. I can't tell. of ivory now is really mine. The comBut I went.

l'any did not pay for it. I collected it "I thought his memory was like other myself at my personal risk.

I am memories of the dead that accumulate afraid they will claim it as theirs. It in every man's life-a vague impress ou is a difficult case. What do you think I the brain, of shadows that had fallen ought to do-resist? Eh! I want no on it in their swift and final passage; more than justice.' He wanted no more but before the high and ponderous than justice. No more than justice. I door, between the tall houses of a street rang the bell before a mahogany door on as still and decorous as a well-kept the first floor, and while I waited he sepulcher, I had a vision of him on the seemed to stare at me out of the polstretcher, opening his mouth voracious- ished panel-stare with that wide and ly, as if to devour all the earth with all immense stare embracing, condemnits mankind. He lived then before me; ing, loathing all the universe; I seemed he lived as much as he had ever lived- to hear the whispered cry, 'O, the hora shadow insatiable, of splendid appear- ror!' ances, of frightful realities; a shadow "The dusk was falling. I had to wait darker than the shadow of night, and in a lofty drawing room with three long draped nobly in the folds of a gorgeous windows from floor to ceiling that were eloquence. The vision seemed to en- like three luminous and bedraped colter the house with me, the stretcher, umns. The bent gilt legs and backs of the phantom bearers; the wild crowd of tbe furniture shone in indistinct obedient worshippers; the gloom of the curves. The tall white marble fireforests; the glitter of the reach between place had a cold and heavy whiteness. the murky bends; the beat of the drum, a grand piano stood massively in regular and muffled like the beating of corner with dark gleams on the a heart-the heart of a conquering dark- fiat surfaces like a sombre and polished ness. It was a moment of triumph sarcophagus. A high door openedtor the wilderness, an invading and closed. I rose. vengeful rush which, it seemed to me, "She came forward, all in black, witb I would have to keep back alone for a pale head, floating toward me in the the salvation of another soul. And the dusk. She was in mourning. It was memory of what I had heard him say more than a year since his death, more afar there, with the horned shapes than a year since the news came; she stirring at my back, in the glow of the seemed as though she could remember fires, within the patient woods, those and mourn forever. She took both my broken phrases came back to me, were hands in hers and murmured, 'I heard heard again in their ominous and ter- you were coming.' I noticed she was rifying simplicity: 'I have lived-su- not very young-I mean not girlish. She premely!' 'What do you want here? had a mature capacity for fidelity, for I have been dead and damned.' 'Let me belief, for suffering. The room seemed 80-I want more of it.' More of what? to have grown darker, as if all the sad More blood, more heads on stakes, light of the cloudy evening had taken more adoration, rapine and murder. I refuge on her forehead. This fair hair, remembered his abject pleading, his this fair visage, this candid brow

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seemed surrounded by an ashy halo for more words on my lips, I went on,
from which the dark eyes looked out 'It was impossible not to
at me. Their glance was guileless, pro- * 'Love him,' she finished eagerly, si-
found, confident and trustful. She car- lencing me into an appalled dumbness.
ried her sorrowful head as though she 'How true! how true! But when you
were proud of that sorrow, as though think that no one knew him so well as
she would say, I-I alone know how I! I had all his noble confidence. I
to mourn for him as he deserves. But knew him best.'
while we

were still shaking hands, “ 'You knew him best,' I repeated. such a look of awful desolation And perhaps she did. But I fancied came upon her face

that I per

that with every word spoken the room ceived she was one of those crea- was growing darker, and only her foretures that are not the playthings of head smooth and white, remained illuTime. For her he had died only yes- mined by the unextinguishable light of terday. And by jove! the impression belief and love. was so powerful that for me too he 'You were his friend, she went on. seemed to have died only yesterday- 'His friend,' she repeated, a little loudnay, this very minute. I saw her and er. 'You must have been, if he had him in the same instant of time-his given this to you, and sent you to me. death and her sorrow. I saw her sor- I feel I can speak to you—0, I must row in the very moment of his death. speak. I want you-you who have It was too terrible. Do you understand? heard his last words—to know I have I saw them together-I heard them to- been worthy of him. It is not gether. She had said with a deep catch pride. .

... Yes! I am proud to know of the breath, 'I have survived,' while I understood him better than anyone my strained ears seemed to hear dis- on earth-he said it himself. And since tinctly, mingled with her tone of de- his mother died I have had no one-no spairing regret, the summing-up whis- cne-to-toper of his eternal condemnation. I tell “I listened. The darkness deepened. you it was terrible. I asked myself I was not even sure whether he had what I was doing there, with a sensa- given me the right bundle. I rather tion of panic in my heart as though I suspect he wanted me to take care of had blundered into a place of cruel and another batch of his papers which, afabsurd mysteries not fit for a human ter his death, I saw the manager exambeing to behold. I wanted to get out. ining under the lamp. But in the box She motioned me to a chair. We sat I had brought to his bedside there were down. I laid the packet gently on the several packages pretty well alike, all little table, and she put her hand over tied with shoestrings, and probably he it. 'You knew him well,' she mur- had made a mistake. And the girl raured, after a moment of mourning si- talked, easing her pain in the certitude lence.

of my sympathy; she talked as thirsty “ 'Intimacy grows quick out there,' men drink. I had heard that her enI said. “I knew him as well as it is gagement with Kurtz had been disappossible for one man to know another.' proved generally. He wasn't rich

“ 'And you admired him,' she said. enough or something. And, indeed, I 'It was impossible to know him and not don't know whether he had not been to admire him. Was it?'

& pauper all his life. He had given me 'He was a remarkable man,' I said, some reason to infer that it was his unsteadily. Then before the appalling impatience of comparative poverty that fixity of her gaze, that seemed to watch drove him out there.


“... Who was not his friend who irg—but sorrow. You know he had Lad heard him speak once?' she was vast plans. I knew them too-I could saying. 'He drew the men toward him Lot perhaps, understand-but others by what was best in them.' She looked knew of them. Something must reat me with intensity. 'It is the gift of main. His words at least have not the great,' she went on, and the sound died.' of her low voice seemed to have the ac- “ 'His words will remain,' I said. companiment of all the other sounds, “ 'And his example,' she whispered full of mystery, desolation, and sorrow to herself. "Wherever he went men I had ever heard-the ripple of the riv- looked up to him-his goodness shone er, the soughing of the trees swayed in every act. His example by the wind, the murmurs of wild " "True,' I said, "his example, too. Crowds, the faint ring of incomprehen- Yes, his example. I forgot that.' sible words cried from afar, the whis- “ ‘But I do not. I cannot-I cannot per of a voice speaking from beyond believe-not yet. I cannot believe that the threshold of an eternal darkness. I will never see him again, that nobody 'But you have heard him! You know! will see him again, never, never, never.' sbe cried.

"She put out her arms as if after a * 'Yes, I know,' I said, with some- retreating figure, stretching them back thing like despair in my heart, but and with clasped pale hands across the bowing my head before the faith that fading and narrow sheen of the winwas in her, before that great and sav- dow. Never see him. I saw him clearly ing illusion that shone with an enough then. I shall see this eloquent earthly glow in the darkness, in the phantom as long as I live, and I shall triumphant darkness from which I see her, too, a tragic and familiar could not have defended her-from Shade, resembling in this gesture anwhich I could not even defend myself. other one, tragic also, and bedecked

" 'What a loss to me-to us! She cor- with powerless charms, stretching bare rected herself with beautiful generos- brown arms over the glitter of the inity, then added in a murmur. "To the fernal stream, the stream of darkness. world.' By the last gleams of twilight She said suddenly, very low. 'He died I could see the glitter of her eyes, full as he lived.' of tears-of tears that would not fall. “ 'His end,' said I, with dull anger

“ 'I have been very happy-very for- stirring in me, 'was in every way wortunate very proud,' she went on. "Too thy of his life.' fortunate. Too happy for a little while. 'And I was not with him,' she murAnd now I am unhappy for-for life.' piured. My anger subsided before a

"She stood up; her fair hair seemed feeling of infinite pity. to catch all the remaining light in a “ 'Everything that could be doneglimmer of gold. I rose, too.

I mumbled. “And of all this,' she went on, Ah, but I believe in him more than mournfully, ‘of all his promise, and of any one on earth--more than his own all his greatness, of his generous mind, mother, more than-himself. He needof his noble heart, nothing remains- ed me! Me! I would have treasured nothing but a memory. You and I– every sigh, every murmur, every word,

'I will always remember him,' I every sign, every glance.' said, hastily.

"I felt a chill grip on my chest. “ 'No!' she cried. 'It is impossible 'Don't,' I said in a muffled voice. that all this should be lost-that such a 'Forgive me. 1-I have mourned life should be sacrificed to leave noth- so long in silence in silence. . . .You were with him-to the last? I think of of inconceivable triumph and of unhis loneliness. Nobody near to under- speakable pain. 'I knew it-I was sure! stand him as I would have understood. She knew. She was sure. I heard Ferhaps no one to hear. ...'

her weeping, her face in her hands. It “ 'To the very end,' I said shakily. seemed to me that the house would 'I heard his very last words. ... I collapse directly, that the heavens stopped in a fright.

would fall upon my head. But nothing 'Repeat them,' she said in a heart- happened. The heavens do not fall for broken tone. 'I want-I want some- such a trifle. Would they have fallen, thing-something-to-to-live with.' I wonder, if I had rendered Kurtz that

"I was on the point of crying at her, justice which was his due? Hadn't he 'Don't you hear them?' The dusk was said he wanted only justice? But I repeating them in a persistent whisper couldn't. I could not tell her. It would all around us, in a whisper that seemed have been too dark-too dark altoto swell menacingly like the first whis- gether. ... per of a rising wind. The horror! the Marlow ceased, and sat apart indishorror!

tinct and silent in the pose of a medi" 'His last word--to live with,' she tating Buddha. Nobody moved for a murmured. 'Don't you understand I time. “We have lost the first of the loved him-I loved bim-I loved him?' ebb," said the director suddenly. I

“I pulled myself together and spoke looked around. The offing was barred slowly.

by a black bank of clouds and the tran“ 'The last word he pronounced was- quil waterway that leads to the utteryour name.'

nost ends of the earth, flowing sombre "I heard a light sigh, and then my

under an overcast sky, seemed to lead lieart stood still, stopped dead short by also into the heart of an immense darkan exulting and terrible cry, by the cry ress. Blackwood's Magaglpe.

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And now forever, through the long, long years,

Near, or apart, in sorrow and in weal,
Mid sunny hours or blending mist of tears,
Each bears a wound no touch, save one, can heal.

Follett Thorpe.
The Argosy.


[We are authorized to publish in an- of teaching as the great representation ticipation-as especially interesting

itself-the simple contact with such during the present year-a letter which

men as 'Christus Maier," as he is will appear in the forthcoming vol

called, whose life's work is “to endeavumes of "The Story of My Life."]

or to do God's will auf's innersten, and To Louisa, Marchioness of Waterford.

to be helpful to those around him.' Ober-Ammergau, June 2.-We have Here, in Ober-Ammergau-perhaps here seen the Passion-Play. It is a day to alone-religion takes no heed of Roman have lived for; nothing can be more Catholic or Protestant vagaries; the sublimely devotional, more indescrib- will of God, the example of Christ, ably pathetic.

those are the only guidance of life. In "On Friday night we slept at Oberau, the five sermons of Daisemberger preand drove here early on Saturday morn- paratory to the Passion-Play of 1871, ing, finding the Lowthers at once in there is not a single word which indithe village street, and spending most cates Romanism. 'Look, O disciples of of that day in drawing with them. We Christ,' says Daisemberger to his peowent at once to the house of the Burgo- ple; 'see your Master, how gentle, how master to inquire where we were billet- kind He is, how mild in His intercourse ed. All the material part of life is with those around Him, how full of most comfortably and economically ar- heartiest sympathy for their joys and ranged for visitors. I am quartered sorrows. Then can you, in your interwith St. Thomas, and all through the

with those around you, be day one meets peasants with long hair, grumbling, rough, discourteous, selfrecalling Biblical figures. The Burgo- asserting, repellant and wanting in master's beautiful daughter is the Vir- sympathy? Oh no! you could never gin Mary. In a gracious and touching endure to be so unlike your Master.' spirit of unselfish love all these villagers "It is a beautiful place, a high upland live together for mutual help and com- mountain valley, covered with rich pas. fort. They have been trained under tures and enamelled with flowers. A their late pastor, Aloys Daisemberger, long street, or rather road, lined by to regard the Passions-Spiel, which is comfortable detached timber houses, the great event of their quiet lives, not leads to the handsome church, around only as a religious service of thanks- which the older part of the village giving to which every talent and energy groups itself above the clear, rushing must be contributed for the glory of Ammer, and is highly picturesque. Be. God, and a manifestation of gratitude yond the village, in the meadows overfor His preservation of them, but they looked by the peak of the Kofel, is the are also taught to look upon it as an theatre where the great drama of the instrument which God's grace has Passion is enacted, which, ever since placed in their hands for the calling 1634, has commemorated every tenth back of Europe to Christianity, through year the then deliverance of Ammerthe dark mists of infidelity which have gau from the plague which was devasbeen creeping over it in the nineteenth tating the neighboring villages. century. And truly in this the actual "All through Friday it was curious visit to Ober-Ammergau may be as full to meet a succession of London ac


· Joseph Maier, the eminent wood-sculptor,

2 "Die Fruchte der Passionbetrachtung."

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