The Tragedy of the Chain Pier

g regard of the moment; it was the grace of her walk that attracted my attention, an

for the sound of that sob as she passed me I should not have watched her-I

quickly, as though she suspected some one was near her. Once a gentleman strolled leisurely down the pier, stood for a few minutes watching the sea in silence, then went away; while he was there she stood still and motionless as a statue; then she looked round with a stealthy gaze-a gaze so unlike the free, grand grace of her movements t

with that hurried stealthy glance, as though so desirous of being alone? Presently she seemed to realize that she stood where the light fell brightest, and she turned away. She walked to the side of the

e frequented place it might, perhaps, have been dangerous. She did not seem to notice it. She stood for some minutes in silence; then I heard again bitter weeping, passionate sobs, long-drawn sighs. I heard a smothered cry of "Oh, Heaven; oh, Heaven have pity!" and then a sickly gleam of li

he raised the bundle I saw distinctly that it w

he seemed so desirous of being alone, but never did one thought cross my mind that there was a shadow of blame-or wrong; I should have been far more on the alert had I thought so. I was always of a dreamy, sentimental, half-awake kind of mind; I thought of nothin

then they went on again as gayly as ever, washing the wooden pillars, and wreathing them with fresh seaweed. The t

urrying past. Then the lady moon relented, and showed her fair face again; a flood of silver fell over the sea-each wave seemed to catch some of it, and break

iously up and down, yet by a singular fatality never looked at the corner of the wooden building where I sat. I have often wondered since that I did not cry out when I saw that face-so wo

; the face was oval-shaped, exquisitely beautiful, with a short upper lip, a full, lovely und

f one who has no hope; she looked over at the sea, once more at the pier, then slowly t

I could not forget her. What a face!-what beauty, what passion, what pain, what lo

red them tied with a pretty faded ribbon; there would be dried flowers, each one a momento of some happy occasion. I could fancy the dried roses, the withered forget-me-nots, the violets, with some faint odor lingering still around them. Then there would be a v

lf into the sea after them! How many hopes had

y the least of it, a simpleton to waste so much

ple, and that I felt a glow of pleasure at the thought that some peo

ok at it once more. The beautiful sea has many weird aspects, none stranger than when it lies heaving sullenly under the light of the moon. Fascinated, charmed, I stood to watch it. The moon had changed her mind;

her love-letters into the sea. The wind grew rougher and the sea grew angry during the night; when at times I woke from my sleep I could hear them. Ah! long before this the love-letters had been destroyed-had been t

f Italy. This morning it wore a blue dress, and a thousand, brilliants danced on its broad, sweet bosom. Already there were a number of people on the promenade; both piers looked beautiful, and were full of life and activity. It must have been some kind of holiday

People were talking to each other in an excited fashion. I saw one or two policemen, and I came to the conclusion that

he matter?

ugh. There must have been murder, or something v

beating heart; "do not u

sir, but it has been do