The Manitowoc tribune. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1866-1878, 1869-09-30
FRED. BORCHERDT. PROPRIETOR.

whitening scorn to the perambulator, chow
| 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 4"
Yes, Sir" replied she; (" it was the
same two"
Emily Jane" said I, solemnly, "always
| tell the truth. Iknoao GU Where is your
mistress gone to all by herself to-day, with
her hair so neatly arranged, and a 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, resolutely. L told her
| would keep it dark, and 1 won't betray
no confidence as has been reposed in me.
| You must find out all of your own head,
| Sir. Oh dear, oh dear ~
Here, to my confusion, Emily Jane cast
her apron, by sudden and dextrous
| movement, over her features, and in that
blinded condition rusheddown the kitchen
stairs like bull stung by bees
AT that moment the front-door bell ran q
with a violence such as none Of our
visitors, except the captain, ever dare to
use. My wrctched heart seemed to expe-
rience little throb of joy. He at least,
then-and I 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 qoas more than
one l dared not trust myself to finish
the reflection, but opened the front-door
with my own hands.
1t was somebody in uniform, but not
"a toi, H. g, y
squeaked the boy, in his shrll 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 [ knOao there's
somebody in the house with Dinah-'
didn't Ike his impudence, and l didn't
like his song, but there was nothing for it
but to submit. What could Anna Maria
be doing with telegraphs? From Rupert
Aerringt0o, 6 Cupjdon Vi72as, ST. Johns
Wood. Pray, be punctual this time. I am
e'9gaged after tsoeloe. I trust yoat aoiU be
looking y0,er best, not paLe as on Aonday
and Thursday.
"There's somebody in the house with
Dinah, there's somebody in the house I
kh10ao-" l rushed out with the receipt in
my hand, and the boy snatched it, and
took to flight for he saw thatI was danger
Gus. What couEd 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 foolshly. 1t
had military smack all over (and didn't
like that notiOn-a military smack J.
Acrrlngton was of course an assumed
name. The handwriting was good, and so
far unlike the captains; but then people
can't write there own telegraph messages
| felt that some immediate action was
necessary, or that should be suffocated.
In a couple of minutes | was in Hanson
bound for Cupidon Villas, in state of
mind easier imagined than described; and
yet L had often read descriptions of it in
novels which protested 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,
wondered now? Why should the
tenderest emotions of the human heart be
made the subject of button But what
a wicked blocking set of houses were these
which was now passing! If bricks and
mcfarland especially stucco-can look
vicious, certainly st. Johns Wood pos
sesses a patent for
"What number, Sir?" shouted nv
driver, through the little hole in the roof
" This is Cupidon Villas"
/" I am sorry to hear it." groaned |, pass
ing my pocket handkerchief over my brow
Don't mind me, my good man" (for his
countenance evinced much dismay at my
voice and manner; &c know it is not yotr
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 tome,
the wickedest. The round eye which
formed its staircase winked yiciously in the
sunlight, and in the garden door was a lit
tie grating, as though for the purpose Of
reconnaissance before admittance, which
was not a 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.. Warrington
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 /, with
a tone of assumed Indifference
"Well-yes, Sir-but you can't see her
just at present. Mr.. Merrington has
great objection to"
"Contound Mr. Merrington!" cried I,
pushing my way in. I want to see my
wife"
ooh, your wife is it, Slrs" 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 Meres" exclaimed I, passion
ately, pointing to the closed windows.
g Yes, of course, Sir! That's the room
they always sit in"
They alaoays 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.
| found myself in a large apartment,
darkened, indeed, upon one side, but well
lit by huge window Invisible from the
front of the house, at its northern end
In the centre of the room was a raised
structure, hung with purple, and rather
resembling a: scatlold decorated for the
execution of royalty, and upon the scat
Told sat my wife In an uncomfortable at
tltude, 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 a gentleman
with mustaches, and in a velvet coat-at
an easel, and evidently painting her por-
trait. He elevated his eyebrows at nv
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.. Merring-
ton, returned she. ooh, John, l am 50
sorry that you found me out, for / had
meant my picture to he 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 it out" .r- -, -