AFTER more than a fortnight spent in the highlands of Scotland, Jerome
passed hastily through London on his way to the continent.
It was toward sunset, on a warm day in October, shortly after his
arrival in France, that, after strolling some distance from the Hotel
de Leon, in the old and picturesque town of Dunkirk, he entered a
burial-ground--such places being always favorite walks with him--and
wandered around among the silent dead. All nature around was hushed in
silence, and seemed to partake of the general melancholy that hung over
the quiet resting-place of the departed. Even the birds seemed imbued
with the spirit of the place, for they were silent, either flying
noiselessly over the graves, or jumping about in the tall grass. After
tracing the various inscriptions that told the characters and conditions
of the deceased, and viewing the mounds beneath which the dust of
mortality slumbered, he arrived at a secluded spot near where an aged
weeping willow bowed its thick foliage to the ground, as though anxious
to hide from the scrutinizing gaze of curiosity the grave beneath it.
Jerome seated himself on a marble tombstone, and commenced reading from
a book which he had carried under his arm. It was now twilight, and
he had read but a few minutes when he observed a lady, attired in deep
black, and leading a boy, apparently some five or six years old, coming
up one of the beautiful, winding paths. As the lady's veil was drawn
closely over her face, he felt somewhat at liberty to eye her more
closely. While thus engaged, the lady gave a slight scream, and seemed
suddenly to have fallen into a fainting condition. Jerome sprang from
his seat, and caught her in time to save her from falling to the ground.
At this moment an elderly gentleman, also dressed in black, was seen
approaching with a hurried step, which seemed to indicate that he was in
some way connected with the lady. The old man came up, and in rather a
confused manner inquired what had happened, and Jerome explained matters
as well as he was able to do so. After taking up the vinaigrette, which
had fallen from her hand, and holding the bottle a short time to her
face, the lady began to revive. During all this time, the veil had still
partly covered the face of the fair one, so that Jerome had scarcely
seen it. When she had so far recovered as to be able to look around her,
she raised herself slightly, and again screamed and swooned. The old man
now feeling satisfied that Jerome's dark complexion was the immediate
cause of the catastrophe, said in a somewhat petulant tone,--
“I will be glad, sir, if you will leave us alone.”
The little boy at this juncture set up a loud cry, and amid the general
confusion, Jerome left the ground and returned to his hotel.
While seated at the window of his room looking out upon the crowded
street, with every now and then the strange scene in the graveyard
vividly before him, Jerome suddenly thought of the book he had been
reading, and, remembering that he had left it on the tombstone, where he
dropped it when called to the lady's assistance, he determined to return
for it at once.
After a walk of some twenty minutes, he found himself again in the
burial-ground and on the spot where he had been an hour before. The
pensive moon was already up, and its soft light was sleeping on the
little pond at the back of the grounds, while the stars seemed smiling
at their own sparkling rays gleaming up from the beautiful sheet of
water.
Jerome searched in vain for his book; it was nowhere to be found.
Nothing, save the bouquet that the lady had dropped, and which lay
half-buried in the grass, from having been trodden upon, indicated that
any one had been there that evening. The stillness of death reigned over
the place; even the little birds, that had before been twittering and
flying about, had retired for the night.
Taking up the bunch of flowers, Jerome returned to his hotel. “What can
this mean?” he would ask himself; “and why should they take my book?”
These questions he put to himself again and again during his walk. His
sleep was broken more than once that night, and he welcomed the early
dawn as it made its appearance.