Two Women. A STORY CONFIDED TO HIS SPIRITUAL ADVISER BY A DYING ITALIAN.

Waikato Times, Volume XXII, Issue 1857, 31 May 1884, Page 6

Two Women. A STORY CONFIDED TO HIS SPIRITUAL ADVISER BY A DYING ITALIAN.

" I must speak before I die. Life is fading fast, and I have not long to linger here. I must tell you. Years ago I committed & murder. I killed my wife— Beatrice was her name. I had loved her, but she grew wearisome to me, and I saw someone I liked better; one of those siren women, like the women of the sea. I tried to leave Beatrice, but she was still so fond of me that she gate me no opportunity- I knew Bhe would follow me and cause trouble if I went away. And so one night in Venice, as we walked by the canal I pushed her iv. "It was late. The watch was not near ; no eye saw me. " I went back home, and evaded all suspicion by making much inquiry for my wife. " They found her at last, and when the news, as they thought, was broken to me, I gave way to a great show of grief. I did feel some remorse, some horror, then; but it passed, and in time I wooed Isa, who, besides being beautiful, had money, and we were married. The rest of my lite for years matters very little. I have not time to tell it. Isa lived with me a while. Then we quarrelled and parted. I was poor. I was miserable. And the memory of the days when I loved Beatrice often came back to me. Then the door of the bottomless pit opened, and I saw Satan's faoe. "Oh, what a life I led ! The wound that brought me here I got in a fight with a man I sought to rob, who defended himself well, and I was glad when they said I could not recover. " They have been very good to me in the hospital — very good. A Sister has waited on me always ; and with her another woman, not dressed like a Sister, but with a little misty veil over her face. She was the kindest. When my wounds pained me she pressed her finger upon them, and I was at ease. Her touch could banish my fever. It seemed to me that she had miraculous power. Even my remorse she calmed by her presence. " ' Peace ! ' she would whisper. • God is good." And a strange calm would fall upon me. "But soon I became aware of a curious thing. The Sister never spoke to her, never seemed to notices her presence ; and when she left me I never saw by what door she took her departure. •' At last I spoke of her to the Sister. " ' Good Sister,' I asked, ' who is this lady who is so kind to me? Tell me her name." " And the sister answered : " ' There is no other lady. You have been dreaming.' Then I knew it was an angel who had come to me. And why should an angel come to one so vile as I ? An angel must know my sin. I dared not think of it — it was so strange ; but that night, as the Sister slept in her chair, and the church clock strnok twelve, I suddenly saw her, all in white, with her veiled face bending over me. " I was in agony. She touched me, and I felt as light as a babe. I was in terror, but my mind grew calm. " I looked at her and I dared to speak. "♦ I know you are an angel,' I said, ' or a saint, or the Madonna herself. But why do you come ta so evil a man ? Can you pity me ? Do I not deserve any pangs of body or soul that may befall me ? ' " She did. not answer my question, save by the words : " ' Heavetn is merciful.' " ' And you pity me ? ' I whispered. " • I love you,' she answered. " Then I folded my hands before her, and prayed her in mercy to a sinner to let me see her face. ' I shall die,' I said, • and go to a place where fires burn and evil eyea glare. I shall go there for my sins. Give me the face of an angel to remember.' " I thought I heard her sigh. " • You have seen it before,' she said. " 'Never, holy being,' I answered, • never.' " Then she lifted her hands to her face and seemed to sweep away a mist from before it, and I saw a face I indeed knew well. " ' I am the spirit of your dead wife, Beatrice,' she said, softly. " Then she stooped, and touched my forehead and was gone. " Since then I have not seen her, but I have had no pain. I have confessed. My terrors have departed. I have no right to peace, but peace falls upon me." He was silent. The priest's voice filled the pause. The dying man lay quiet for many minutes, then turned his eyes towards the foot of the bed, and tried to Iff t his hands. " It is Beatrice ! " he cried, and so died.