THE RURAL NEW-YORKER. 
327 
MARY’S “NO.” 
by j. a. i.ANoronn. 
8h r, is fair, and vci y protty. 
With a sparkling oriRnt, Mue eye; 
And her cheeks with smilca are dimpled 
When aha knows I'm aiandinfi: by. 
Yet she says she doee not love me— 
Never will be wife of mine: 
But those smiles *ud dimples tell me 
With despair I need not p ine. 
So. T let her meet niy plendlnurs 
With her btlsrht and »aiie.y smile, 
And 1 bow Wore the archness 
LtfrhUnx up her face the while. 
UsteuiuK with a feign'd emotion. 
And a put-on look of woe 
For I love to hear her accent— 
See her lips when suyiug “ No.” 
Love to *ee tbeaiwaful action 
Of her foot iq«>u (lie irround; 
Af> its tiny sole»lie patters. . 
There is music in the sound. 
And the words come to my hearing 
Sweet ns murmurs of tbo dove; 
For I know their hidden meaning, 
Bead them in tbo light ot love. 
Thus, though still she "No" is saying, 
I, at home, have named the day; 
And her mother nitriles while weeping— 
" Swiftly wing the hours away; 
And my Mary is the fondest. 
Dearest of my children three. 
Why not. wait little longer? 
Why this hurry Questions she. 
But my ear i« deaf to pleading, 
Vainly all excuses flow; 
For my alary listens blushing. 
And no more she whispers " No.” 
So my life grows fair and joyous, 
Winning ever new delight. 
From the thought that 1 have won her— 
Won my love, my life, tny light 1 
filer. 
A LIFE-WATCH. 
BY GEORGIANA C. CLARK, 
[Concluded from page 312.] 
I know not whether 1 am mad or sane. I know 
not whether I was mad when 1 did It. There Is 
madness In our family. My mother died raring 
mad. If 1 am mad, 1 was not accountable for it, 
and cannot bo Judged for It. AM if I ain sane, I 
hare expiated It by a long life-watch 
But Lionel and I were mad for love. We met; 
we eloped; married, and ned to avoid the ro- 
proaches and Interference of angry parents. 
After I had consented to elope, 1 looked round 
our place for a receptacle wherein I might pack 
the few clothes I Intended to take with me. In 
the coach-house I saw the old box or chest des¬ 
tined to play so awful a part in my wretched 
story, r contrived to deposit what I ueeded un¬ 
observed ; and In the silence of night, when all 
slept, I aroused the young' groom, who slept over 
the stable, and offeted him a handsome gift, of 
gold—yellow and shining In tho light of the lamp 
I held—If he would harness the horses and take 
me and that dingy box to where Lionel awaited us. 
Tho coachman, an old family servant, might 
have refused to drive so young a mistress on so 
doubtful a Journey. But Sam wasof nn age when 
such deeds raise sympathy In the breast; so ho 
took Ills reward, and I, with my box, was hurried 
rrom my home. 
Weary or traveling, wc rented a small house—a 
mere cottage—not Tar from Alpha, where, us we 
thought, we ran little risk of helng seen by any 
one who knew us. My husband, being rond of 
bathing, sought tho shore every rooming, and I 
sat In the garden until he returned. 
We had not been at Alpha very long when 1 fan¬ 
cied that there was a change in his manner. 1 
was certalu some secret rested upon his mind, and 
1 became aware also, that though he went to tho 
shore, he ceased to bathe. Sitting alone with 
busy thoughts I grew Jealous, and determined to 
watch him; ho, instead of remaining at home, one 
day 1 hurried along a by-road to a part ot the road 
that overlooked the sands. I cast my eyes down¬ 
wards, and saw him walking with u. young lady 
about my own age. After a time they left the 
sands aud walked towards our home. They were 
too preoccupied lo detect that, they were followed, 
but sat down to talk by a quiet bank near a corn¬ 
field, where I hid myself among the grain. I 
was not near enough to hear hla words, to which 
she listened so earnestly, or hers, on which ho 
seemed to hang with Under Interest, I noticed 
him holding her hands fondly, twining her curls 
In his Ungers; and 1 saw him kiss her before they 
parted. I watched this day after day, and yet I 
said nothing. She only passed a few minutes 
each time In his company, as If fearful of being 
missed by her friends. But was not that enough ? 
was it not too much for a young, loving wUo to 
witness? 
One morning I noticed a bouquet of dowers. Just, 
gathered, lying on the table where he had been 
wrttlng. Full ot suspicion 1 diverted bis glance 
to another part of tho room, and with a hasty 
glance read the words scribbled upon a slip of 
paper 14 f will meet you at sunset on the sands, 
and. If your plans are ripe enough, wo will leave 
Alpha to-morrow.” Ho returned to his desk, fold¬ 
ed the note, and went out with It and tho dowers. 
Could I not guess how the one would be conceal¬ 
ed In the other, and for whom? Did I not know 
the golden-haired syren with tho sweet baby-fuco 
that had bowltclied him ? 
That morning I spent at home, a wretched prey 
to love. Jealousy and wrath. At ail hazards tho 
sunset meeting must bo prevented. Should 1 
charge him with perfidy, upbraid him, entreat 
him? Should l prevail? Should 1 risk failure7 
No; a thousand times no. As our dinner-hour 
drew near, a foolish, an evil, a vile idea entered 
my miserable mind. I was mad then; I know 
now that I was mad. ! laughed when T remem¬ 
bered the laudanum In a liny bottle on the mantel 
In my dressing-room. I emptied It Into the wine 
decanter. Lionel drank wine, but I did not. After 
dinner bo slept. Coffee was brought, but still his 
slumber lasted. It was as I wished. I sat and 
watched him. The hours went on slowly, f sent 
tho servants to bed. and the house was very quiet. 
It grew late, the lamps—there was no gas—burn¬ 
ed down low; he still slept very heavily. One, 
two sounded—then three, it was broad daylight; 
and I drew up tho Hinds, for I was getting rest¬ 
less and alarmed. Daylight, was let In, and It fell 
upon the arm-chair and upon the face of a dead 
man. I dropped at his feet; I tried to pray, but 
kuelt there wordless and thoughtless. Then sure¬ 
ly I was mad—carefully, cunningly, strangely 
mad. As lleaveu Is my witness, 1 had only meant 
to cause a sleep to stop that meeting and to put 
off an explanation so bitterly humiliating, so 
stormy tn tho aspect of Its gathering clouds. 
1 knelt before my dead husband and laughed. I 
had no part In the laughter; It was as If the voice 
of some strange spirit issued from my lips, aud 
sounded curiously in my ear. 1 was aroused sud¬ 
denly by hearing tho servants como down-stairs. 
I was alone with him; and they would say I had 
[ murdered him, and the fair girl with tho golden 
hair and the baby's face would stand by and 800 
me strangled out of mo on a scaffold. How I 
found strength for the terrible tusk I cannot toll, 
but I took Lionel In my arms and carried him Into 
our sletplng-rooni, which adjoined, threw open 
the Windows that led from t he dining-room Into 
the garden, and then locked myself and my crime 
away together. I laid him on tho floor by the 
great box, and kn-lt down. 
Suddenly an idea came Into my head. I opened 
the box, and taking out my clothing made It into 
a bundle. There was a closet in the room which 
1 had once opened, aud had seen among other do¬ 
mestic curiosities the old ticking or a bed. I took 
It out anil covered it over Lionel, and with the 
same strange strength lifted him Into the box. 
He was barely dead then, for his limbs were not 
stiff, and I folded them Into the space. Then I 
locked up the box and dressed, aud went la to 
breakfast. A note lay on t he table. It. was con¬ 
tained tn a little pink envelope, directed lu a girl¬ 
ish hand. As my eyes rested upon it my Jealously 
and anger rushed to life again. 1 felt glad Lionel 
was dead. I took up the note which she with the 
yellow hair and pink face must, have sent, and 
tearing It open read, “ Dear Lionel”—dear Lionel! 
How tho letters ran before my eyes 1 Did she dare 
to call him h&r dear Lionel! Ay, it was there, 
written upon the pink paper with perfumed Ink. 
“ Dear Lionel:—I have pleaded ^our e.auso 
with papa and mamma, but cannot move them; 
and because they think I must have seen you 
here, our governess Is ordered t.i bring us borne 
by tliB llrst train to-morrow, nut do not despair; 
for It l can do nothing at present, I will yet recon¬ 
cile them to you some day. I foar 1 shall not. bo 
allowed to write, but In silence and absonco do 
not doubt that I am, and ever shall remain, 
“ Your affectionate sister, 
“ Edith.” 
His sister! Ah I was ever climax so terrible ? 
This, then, must be his ravorJte slater Edith, of 
whom ho had so often talked, but who was un¬ 
known to me. Alas! why had he kept their meet¬ 
ing secret? That, too, was obvious: could ho ex¬ 
pose mo to tho mortification of knowing that she 
was pleading for my recognition by his family, or 
that he was rorced to meet a dearly-loved sister 
by stealth, because ho had ohosun mo to be hla 
wife? 
And Lionel was doad. 1 hardly comprehended 
that fact. Fear was upon mo. I must 
of cruel and horrible self-torture. To 
live all my days In a house converted 
into a mausoleum; to be condemned 
to sit upon an unburled cortln; to be 
Incumbered everywhere with a ten¬ 
ant who should be la the tomb; to 
live alone with death; to eat side by 
side with a skeleton; to taste food out 
of a blood-red hand, and have a blood- 
red sky ever before mo—are parts of 
my punishment. I never sec a blue 
sky or a gray distance. Everything 
has a sanguinary hazo over It. as If I 
looked through spectacles ot flame- 
color. And yet I rlld not Hhed blood— 
oh, no, I did not do that. 
I have formed a friendship for this 
woman, and I should like to talk to 
her; yet I cannot divulge my secret. 
She seems to love her husband; yet 
not as 1 loved mine. As I lovod him ? 
As I do love him—passionately, wildly, 
fearfully, madly, so that 1 can never 
take my gaze off his coffin; so that I 
rise In the darkness and silence of the 
night to kiss and embrace the cold 
wood; and I fed my passion and ray 
remorse eating out my heart. I can¬ 
not weep. 1 never shed a tear now, as 
I never shed a tear then. My grief is 
cold and tearless, as tny rage was cold 
and tearless, and my happiness cold 
and tearless, when ho lived. Outward¬ 
ly, only outwardly. Within I was and 
am a human volcano, and the flro Is 
consuming my heart aud brain, sense 
and being, slowly, slowly —heaven, 
Uow slowly ! It Is retribution. 
In my girlhood I was beautiful, and 
gifted with extraordinary talents. 
Whatever I undertook 1 mastered. I 
studied astrology, and cast my nativi¬ 
ty. 1 saw the doom then, but did not 
comprehend It. Could we literally 
know the future, of what use would it 
be ? Should we be warned, advised, or 
guided ? No l Doom is doom, and we 
should rush on blindly towards ft. 
In every accomplishment. I excelled. 
And yet I was but ffftecn years of age, 
living in retirement with my govern- 
ness, when I met my future husband. 
I was sketching the stump of a tree in 
a grove, he out with dog and gun. Our 
eyes met with a flash ot light, and we 
loved each other, lie was so hand¬ 
some, a heathen might have thought 
him a deity descended from the clouds. 
His hair was fair, rich, and waving, 
over eyes blue as heaven; hla com¬ 
plexion more delicate, It possible, than 
my own. His voice was soft, rich, and 
manly. He had traveled, and was as 
well read as myself. I did not discover 
all this at llrst. But we loved as our 
eyes met. Then we were impelled to 
speak. No parent could object to such 
an unexceptionable suitor as Lionel; 
but an obstacle existed on his side, 
whose father refused to sanction bis 
son’s union with the daughter or a lu¬ 
natic, the grandchild of an Idiot. 
mmmm 
fly, and I must conceal the deed. 
Twenty miles rrom my own homo a 
lonely house stood lu tho midst of a 
wood. Report called it haunted, and 
no one of tho simple country folk dared 
approach, far less Inhabit It. In a 
feigned name 1 wrote to the landlord 
and requested he would let It to me, 
with permission to enter It Immediate¬ 
ly, saying that I was anxious to se¬ 
cure a good bouse at the low rent I 
did not doubt he would be happy lo 
accept. 1 would have given any price 
for the house, hut I wished to give a 
likely reason, not the true one. My 
offer was accepted by return or post. 
Meanwhile I had told my two serv¬ 
ants that their master had left early 
In the morning for town, whither he 
wished me to follow hint, as wo found 
it necessary to take a long and unex¬ 
pected Journey. I had paid all debts 
when the landlord's letter came. Hur¬ 
rying to New York, I there disposed of 
our valuable plate and whatever I pos¬ 
sessed, except a little linen, a row Jew¬ 
els, and the horrible sarcophagus, 
hereafter my life-watch. I was anx¬ 
ious to gain my new abode, as I knew 
the delays of a day or two would cause 
detection. But my route was purpose¬ 
ly circuitous and broken to baffle any 
efforts that might be made to trace 
me, though under the fumlly ban it 
was hardly likely. 
The chest was placed in a large room 
—a sort of loft—at the top of the house, 
and after a tew preparations had been 
made by three worneu who were In- 
duced to come to the haunted place 
whilst It was day, I was left alone. 
The fact of my having a large box put 
In the loft excited no suspicion. The 
conjecture was that It contained books. 
There, without servants, without tho 
companionship of a living soul, I dwelt 
alone for many years, until upon the 
death of the old landlord a new master 
of tho soil desired to pull tho house 
down. Then with my chest I traveled 
from place to place, a haunted, restless 
woman, asking of myself eternally, 
“ Am I sane or mad?” 
I had written so much of my history 
to give It some day to one who had 
been kind to me; but going over tho 
details of my life, has raised lu tny 
mlud a horrible suspicion, more ex¬ 
quisitely agonlzlog than all that has 
gone before—a suspicion Die bare form 
of which, as It suddenly eamo berore 
me, cast me into that frenzied fit which 
has closed the weary life or one who 
neither wants nor wishes to die—one 
who only desires to live her vague life 
on and on, gazing eternally at the sar¬ 
cophagus. The Idea, the certainty so 
terrible in Its nature is, that Lionel 
was not dead when 1 placed him lu tho 
chest. Lionel was under the Influence 
of the.narcotlc, but living—Lionel, my 
