Cruel As the Grave

“Their love was like the lava flood That burns in Etna’s breast of flame.” Near the end of a dark autumn-day, not many years ago, a young couple, returning from their bridal tour arrived by steamer at the old city of Norfolk; and, taking a hack, drove directly to the best inn. They were attended by the gentleman’s valet and the lady’s maid, and encumbered besides with a great amount of baggage, so that altogether their appearance was so promising that the landlord of the “Anchor” came forward in person to receive them and bow them into the best parlor. The gentleman registered himself and his party as Mr. and Mrs. Lyon Berners, of Black Hall, Virginia, and two servants. “We shall need a private parlor and chamber communicating for our own use, and a couple of bedrooms for our servants,” said Mr. Berners, as he handed his hat and cane to the bowing waiter. “They shall be prepared immediately,” answered the polite landlord. “We shall remain here only for the night, and go on in 22the morning, and should like to have two inside and two outside places secured in the Staunton stage-coach for to-morrow.” “I will send and take them at once, sir.”