The Plymouth Democrat. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1869-1941, 1869-09-30

comes this here? No, Emily Jane; your
mistress must have taken out with her to-
day the same two children that she took
on Monday and on Thursday, when her
sore throat was so bad that she could not
| go out with me" 'f-oI'
Yes, Sir" replied she; ait was the
same two"
Emily Jane" said I, solemnly, "always
tell the truth Ikno,c al. Where is your
mistress gone to all by herself to-day, with
her hair so neatly arrange d, and flower
stuck in the left-hand side of her head
and that after telling me she was too busy
to. move out. ,COncealment is worse than
useless. Where is she"
Wild horses shouldn't do it," returned
| the domestic, resOlItely. Il told her /
would keep it dark, and won't betray
no confidence as has been reposed in me.
You must find it out all of your own head,
Sir. Oh dear, oh dearr'
| Here, to my confusion, Emily Jane cast
her apron, by sudden and dextrous
movement, over her features, and in that
| blinded condition rushed down the kitchen
stairs like bull stupg by bees.
At that moment the front-doOr bell rang
with violence such as none OF our
visitors, except the captain, ever dare to
use. My wretched heart seemed to cxpe-
rience little thrOb of joy. He at least,
then-and | confess my suspicious had
been turned in his direction, for was it
not his profession to guard us from foreign
foes, and to destroy our domestic peace
he at least, l say, unless there acds more than
one | dared not trust myself to finish
the reflection, but opened the front-doOr
with my own hands.
1t was somebody in uniform, but not
the captain. "Telegr0ph for Mrs. R"
squeaked the boy, in his shrill thin voice;
"please to sign on the right and side"
Then dancing double shuttle upon the
door step, in order to keep himself warm,
he broke forth into ballad, "There's
somebody in the house with Dinah, there's
somebody in the house l knoso; there's
somebody in the house with Dinah-"
l didn't like his impudence, and didn't
like his song, but there was nothing for it
but to submit What could Anna Maria
be doing with telegraphs? From Rupert
Merington, 6 Cupidon ViAas, 81. Johns
Wood. Pruy, be puactual this time. / am
engaged after t'celce. L trust yOu aoiU be
looking your best, not pale, as on Monday
and Thursday.
"There's somebody in the house with
Dinah, there's somebody in the house |
kao,c-" rushed out with the receipt in
my hand, and the boy snatched it, and
took to flight, for he saw thatIwas danger
Gus. What could this dreadful message
mean? or rather what meaning could it
have but one? Rupert Merrington! not
at all steady sounding name, to begin
with the sender, too, was evidently no
businessman, or he would not have ex-
ceeded his twenty words so foolishly 1t
had military smack all over land didn't
like that nOtiOn-a military smack !! J.
AerringtOn was of course an assumed
name. The handwriting was good, and so
far unlike the captain's; but then people
can't write there own telegraph messages.
l felt that some immediate action was
necessary, or that l should be suffocated.
In couple of minutes | was in a Hanson
bound for CupidOn Villas, in state of
mind easier imagined than described; and
yet had often read descriptions of it in
novels which professed to describe aristo
cratic life, and often had seen upon the
stage (although principally in farces) the
husband racked by jealous pangs.
What had there been to laugh at in that,
L wondered nowg Why should the
tenderest emotions of the human heart bs
made the subject of buffOn- But what
a wicked-l looking set of houses were these
which was now passing! If bricks and
mortar-and especially stucco-cnn look
vicious, certainly st. Johns Wood pos
sesses patent for
"What number, Sir?" shouted my
driver, through the little hole i'll the roof.
" This is Cupidon VILLAS"
81 am sorry to hear it," groaned /, pass
ing my pOckct-handkcrchietO over my brow.
Don't mind me, my good man" (fOr his
countenance evinced much dismay at my
voice and manner); +" know it is not your
fault that am miserable. Please to pull
up at No. g."
Of all the wicked looking houses in Gu
pidOn Terrace, No was, it seemed to me,
the wickedest. The round eye which
formed its staircase winked viciOusly in the
sunlight, and in the garden door was lit
tie grating, as though for the purpose of
reconnaissance before admittancc, which
was not little grating to me. The draw
ing room shutters were closed This lat
ter circumstance gave me some satisfaction,
since it might signify that Mr.. Mcrrington
was dead, but glance at the gay attire of
the servant-girl who answered my sum-
mons cut away this ground of consolation.
Is Mrs. R within?" inquired 1, with
tone Of assumed indifference.
"Wcll--yes, Sir-but you can't see her
just at present. Mr.. Mcrrington has a
great objection to"
"ConfOund Mr.. Merrington!" cried l,
pushing my way in. "I want to see my
wife,"
"Oh, your wife is it, SIR" replied the,
maid, with giggle. "Then of course you
can go up, if you please, although it's as
much as my place is worth. You will find
them in the drawing room"
| "What! here?" exclaimed I, passion
| ately, pointing to the closed windows.
Yes, of course, Sir! That's the room
| they always sit in"
They dl,odys sit in! Then this sort of
thing must have been going on for years
cleared the two little flights of stairs
in couple of bounds, and hurled open the
drawing-room door like catapult.
l found myself in large apartment,
darkened, indeed, upon one side, but well
lit by a huge window Gnvisible from the
front of the hOuse) at its northern end
In the centre of the room was raised
structure, hung with purple, and rather
resembling . scaffold decorated for the
execution OF royalty, and upon the scat.
| fold sat my wife in an uncomfortable at
titude, and with an expression of coun-
tenance that she only wears upon those
ceremonious occasions which demand what
are called =" company manners" Between
her and the window stood gentleman
with mustaches, and in velvet coat-at
an easel. and evidently painting her por-
trait. He elevated his eyebrows at my
peculiar mode ..of entering the room,
and looked toward my wife, as if for an
explanation of the phenomenon.
1T is only my husband, Mr.. Mcrring-
ton," returned she. "Oh, John, am so
sorry that you found me out, for had
meant my picture to ne pleasant surprise
to you upon your birthday next week
This was to be my last sitting but one
and nobody knows the trouble l have
taken to keep you ignorant of my coming
here. That stupid Emily Jane must have
let il out"
J mo, my dear, said L; /" discovered the
fact for myself through the telegraph; and