The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1869-02-04

Deen talking aboua y John5 has any
ching dreadful happenedi"
81 will tell you by and by"
"Shall we telegraph for Mr. Dem
bighp
"We must wait till the morning.
The telegraph Office does not open till
seven o'clock"
His wife hurried back to the room
where poor Elsie lay.
81 had better 60 now," said Mr.
Smith; II will call at your house in the
course Ofthe day; and meanwhile / had
best do nothing-take no steps; don't
you think sOl"
"By all means do nothing until we
see our way more clearly. If, on max
ing inquiries, we should discover that
the poor fellow never did land in Eng
land, bat died on the voyage.-which
may be, though It is odd, if SO, that we
never heard about him from any one
if this should turn out to be the case,
why then nobody hereabout need be the
wiser, and we shall save gossip. Let
your inquiries at a distance be made
first, at all events. And l should like
to lay it all before Denbigh to begin
with"
"ReallyP' exclaimed Mr.. Smith with
a shrewd half-wondering glance at Mr..
Carter's face. "You would like to lay
it before Well, we can talk of that
tomorrow. Good by"
He left the vicar to bis own solitary
thoughts. Melancholy thoughts they
were, as he sat by the hearth in the
drawing-room, where the servants had
kept up the fire, and where candles
we're burning. From time to time one
ofthem came stealthily in to rsplenish
the fire, and presently they brought
some tea; and then ring at the bell an
nounced the nurse who had been sent
for, aud finally arrived Mr., Scott, to
whom, for the time being, Mrs. Carter
resigned the management OF the sick
room. Soon after, she came into the
drawing-room, where her husband, ex-
claiming at her white looks, wheeled an
armchair to the fire for her, and hasten
ed to pour out a reviving cup Of tea.
Chow is Mrs. Denbighi"
every, very i'll, l am afraid. Her
state is so unnatural that it terrifes me.
Through all these hours she has not
once spoken, has scarcely moved, and
is as cold as a stone. 1t is like trying
to warm corpse. o John, what is it,
Whatever it is, believe she has reciv-
her death blow"
'She has had frightful news. 1t is a
long story"
And then, drawing his seat close to
his wife's, the vicar told her all that Mr..
Smith had told him.
After the first exclamation of aston
ment, she listened quite silently, with
none of the questions and comments
with which she was at times wont to
try her husbands patience. Long after
he had ceased to speak, she remained
locking into the fire, until he began
again -
"There are three things, to my mind,
any one Of which may have happened.
He may have died on the voyage; that
we can easily ascertain. Or, coming
home and finding poor Elsie married,
he may, foolishly, poor young fellow,
and wrongly, too,-have resolved to
keep out of her way, and never let her
know of his existence.
"Not like Herbert Clavering," said
Mrs. Carter, shaking her head.
"The third conjecture is the worst of
all; but am afraid it is the most prob
able. Think of the tremendous blow
of finding her married again; he may
have destroyed himself"
Mrs. Carter shook her head again,
but did not speak. Her husband said
impatiently: "You always have an idea
in your head; tell me, Mary, what you
Think l see you have some belief
about this matter"
'No, no; indeed l have not; what
grounds have I to go ont Did you say
that this man was quite sure that the
steamboat reached England7
ayes, be saw the date of her arrival
mentioned in a newspaper he says it
was the 14th of January, this day, three
years."
"What7 Have you forgotten what
happened on the 18th of Janury in that
yearF know am not mistaken /
never forget Elsie's wedding day, be-
case it is Johnny's birthday,--a year
old he was, don't you remember o
john"
Her husband uttered a sound sorrow
ful surprise, as if much impressed.
'It seems extraordinary" he NUT
tered, "that the fellow should not have
rushed straight home. Could he'll
suppOse-I wonder-whether he could
have come into the neighborhood, to
Slowcome, perhaps, and heard"
The vicar spoke slowly, and his wife
watched his face as he knitted his brows,
and passed his hand over his forehead
cropping bis way towards the conclusion
at which her quicker feminine instinct
had already arrived. When he raised
his eyes, he met hers fixed upon him as
if she half hoped, half dreaded, to hear
from him suggestion that she could
not bear to make herself.
What are you thinking of, Maryi"
81 am thinking" she answered, with
a lowered and an agitated voice, "that
the short cut for any one walking from
Slowcombe passes this very door. !
am thinking how Herbert Clavering