The Tragedy of the Chain Pier | Page 9

funeral. The sun was shining, and the
balmy air was filled with the song of birds; but then the sun does shine,
and the birds will sing, for paupers!
I ordered a small white marble cross; it stands underneath the trees at
the head of the little green grove. When the head mason asked me what
name was to be put upon it, I was puzzled. Only Heaven knew whether
the helpless little child had a claim to any name, and, if so, what that
name was. I bethought myself of one name; it meant bitterness of deep
waters.
"I will call it 'Marah,'" I said, and the name stands there on the marble
cross:
"Marah, aged three weeks. Found drowned in the sea, September,
18--."
Only one small grave among so many, but a grave over which no

mother has shed a tear. Then, after a few days more, I forgot almost all
about it; yet at that time I was so lonely, so utterly desolate, that I felt
some kind of tie bound me to the little grave, and made me love the
spot. It was soon all forgotten, but I never forgot the beautiful,
despairing face I had seen on the pier that night--the face that seemed to
have passed me with the quickness of a swift wind, yet which was
impressed on my brain forever.
I have been writing to you, dear reader, behind a veil; let me draw it
aside. My name is John Ford--by no means a romantic name--but I
come of a good family. I am one of the world's unfortunates. I had
neither brother nor sister; my father and mother died while I was quite
young; they left me a large fortune, but no relations--no one to love me.
My guardian was a stern, grave elderly man; my youth was lonely, my
manhood more lonely still. I found a fair and dainty love, but she
proved false; she left me for one who had more gold and a title to give
her. When I lost her, all my happiness died; the only consolation I
found was going about from place to place trying to do good where I
could. This little incident on the Chain Pier aroused me more than
anything had done for some time.
I had one comfort in life--a friend whom I loved dearer than a brother,
Lancelot Fleming; and lately he had come into possession of a very
nice estate called Dutton Manor, a fine old mansion, standing in the
midst of an extensive park, and with it an income of three thousand per
annum. Lance Fleming had been brought up to the bar, but he never
cared much for his profession, and was much pleased when he
succeeded to his cousin's estate.
He had invited me several times to visit Dutton Manor, but something
or other had always intervened to prevent it. Lance came to see me; we
traveled together; we were the very opposite of each other. He was
frank, gay, cheerful, always laughing, always with some grand jest on
the tapis--a laughing, sunny, blue-eyed fellow, who was like a sunbeam
in every house he entered; he was always either whistling or singing,
and his bright, cheery voice trolled out such snatches of sweet song that
it was a pleasure to hear him.

I am naturally melancholy, and have a tendency to look always on the
dark side of things. You can imagine how I loved Lance Fleming; the
love that other men give to wives, children, parents and relatives I
lavished on him. I loved his fair, handsome face, his laughing blue eyes,
his sunny smile, his cheery voice; I loved his warm-hearted, genial
manner. In fact, I loved the whole man, just as he was, with a love
passing that of women--loved him as I shall love no other.
Naturally enough, Lance was a great favorite with the ladies; every
woman who saw him loved him more or less. He was quite irresistible
when, in addition to his handsome face and sweet temper, came the
charm of being master of a grand old manor-house, with three thousand
per annum. No wonder that he was popular. The only thing which
troubled me about Lance was his marriage; I always feared it. With his
gay, passionate temperament, his universal admiration and chivalrous
manner of treating the fair sex, it was certain that he would, sooner or
later, fall in love and marry. From what I knew of him, from the innate
conviction of my own love, I felt sure that his marriage would be the
hinge on which his whole life would turn. I was very anxious about it,
and talked to him a great deal about it when we were together.
"If you marry the right woman,