The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1868-06-05

I
OF the past-my Beatrice WIS gone, changed
| into beautiful woman-a woman whose
Whole love Was given to George Stanley;
my Beatrlce vas only supple, lnp0cdnt
child T; as such / should always remember
| her. --.-.s.s- -
CHAPTER ILL., sal
l did not see Beatrice Is bride, though
l had pressing invitation to be at the
wedding. 1 could not bear to witness her
beng given away to a man like George
Stanley. Marriage is an awful thing. A
girl leaves all that is dear, those Who are
| known to her, and takes upon herself a new
lite With somebody she can have but little
knowledge Of The wonder to me ia that
SO many risk it--so many, l mean, Who
have happy homes and kind relatives; but
there it is human nature, neither more
nor less. It is all very well for me, an old
bachelor to preach about such things, no
| doubt If bachelors ruled the world it would
be different place; leastwise, it would
soon come to an end, suppose
Five years'ag Beatrice French quilted
her maiden name and state, and entered
| upon the new title and unknown life of
Mrs George Stanley, of Wilton; during
those five years l have never seen her, sel>
| dom even heard from her. am unchanged;
being alone, with only myself to take
thought for, changes cannot come to me as
| they do to those who have many belong
ings. But. changes has fallen upon Bea
trice her father and mother are both dead,
and she is gone abroad with her husband
This much know. | suppose she is very
happy ), maybe she has smiling faces
climbing around her knees, and loving lit
tie arms twining around her neck. She
was made to be happy, with her sunny
face and joyous spirit. | wonder if shlll
ever see her again or whether a second
Beatrice will ever talk to me, and win nue.
to love her for her dear mothers sake ? %
The turn of figure, the tone Of voice,
will sometimes recall Beatrice to me !; and
then in fancy wander off to. the days
when she was little skipping child, and
| won me from my isolation and gravity to
amuse her. @ 1901 81
Wandering SO, and recalling her, look
| ed to the end Of Lon3on omnibus to see
whose voice had thrilled me with tone of
hers only woman, dressed in rusty
black, with thick veil over her face so |
turned away again, and went On thinking
about Beatrice. Presently the woman be
gan fgeting about she had dropped a
penny She put up her veil, and saw
her face was pale, and haggard, and sad.
She no longer reminded me of Beatrice.
found the penny for her, and, as she took
it from me, her lips trembled, and her
voice had again the tone which first attract
ed her to me. Suppose Beatrice my Bea-
trice-could ever come to be as poor and
wan as this woman blu. she could not,
aud | knew it. Yet, when she descended
| from the omnibus, [ did SO too wanted
| to see where she was going round the cor
ner of Tottenham Court Road, through
| Great Russell street, into Bedford Square
Suddenly she paused, turned round, and,
starting at sight OF me, was about to move
On, when said:
You seem to be stranger here. Can
direct you to any place? p
II want Southampton Row" she re-
piled. turning her eyes away from mine.
l am going thai way" said l. "If
you will allow me will walk with you"
Thank you you are very kind, she
said and she looked at ME for moment.
looked at her more anC more earnestly !;
my heart beat quicker; | stopped 10 front
of her-''Can it bells it Beatrice p l
exclaimed.
She leaned against the railing, but did
not speak.
Tel me your name Tel me some
thing of yourself, Are you Beatrice p
Slowly she gasped out Yes | am Bea-
trice. | knew YOU OIL" and she COW
cred her face with her hands, and trem>
bled exceedingly.
"Will you come to my hotel, and tell
me about yourself?' | said, eagerly.
Il must 60 to Southampton Row first, ;"
she replied. ..l
Nv bat for p | inquired.
sAbout situation | am seeking" she
replied.
leave that for the present." said 1,
land come with me-
She assented. called cab and drove
to my hotel. ordered lunch ut once,
for saw she was half fainting; then l
asked her to remove her hoanet, and lie
upon the sofa. Could she be my Beatrice2
SO chanzed-so ll-so old-so careworn
Yet, the sweet, soft, blue eyes, though
dim with tears, looked at me with the SAM
expression, and the taoed hair was gray.
BY degrees began to see likeness to her
former self; by degrees my heart yearned
to this wan woman, as 1t used to yearn
over the happy child ,
By>and>by, when she had rested, and
had taken some lunch, asked her of her
husband. She pointed to her Dress.
Dead" said she. 5su ..tr. "a
How long ago?" l asked.
six mouths,' she replied. ''He had
been i'll year, and We lost all our money
long ago." So
'TThen how did you live p l asked.
81 taught English in a school at Fps
wich,'' she replied.
My poor Beatrice Why did you not
let me know 2" -.sef.
"He wouldn't let me-" she replied.
WAS he always kind to you?" in
quired.
She Gid not speak directly; but, looking
at her wedding ring, twisting it ronnd and
round. He was my husband" she said,
and | stood reproved for my question.
What are you going to do now?" [
resumed,
ITO try and be a governess,' she re-
piled. There is nothing else left me-"
Have you any children7''
Il had one---a sweet boy but be died"
was her reply. ''Oh, Benedick take me
home With you Let me 60 back to Sill
verton ugain T. She stretched out her poor
thin hands imploringly, and her voice was
broE en- with s;fhs