Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1870-08-09
s. .s "a. sTAUNToN, VA, TUESDAY, AUGUST 9, 1870 I

called my name softly but did not answer =
and he went away. - -s'@ ~ @sss
A dozen times that night 1 lifted my throb-
bing head from my tear-wet pillow to 60 out to
him and implore his forgiveness, but pride kept
me back Thus lay, sIeepless, till morning.
1t was wild morning. too, with drifting rain
and sobbiDg winds, and the sea laundering on
the strand ol .sz a9
My husband was already in the breakfast
room when went down. He turned, and said
kindly. 5sa @ faR9 e9s aa 41 a
Good d-morning, dear. Are you quite well p
Quite we'll, thank you, Il responded, cross
ing to window on the opposite side Of the
room He arose, and hoped he was coming to
my side, but be only looked at his watch, and
said o1 lEi e3ilN 1850 It- R9tta sfAlof}sus
iiei"Be kind enough to let me have breakfast at
once, Violet, if you can. am In hurry, for
have important matters to look after.
| rang 4he bell at once, and placed myself at
the head Of the table. When the cherries re-
past was over, aud my husband rose to go, I
felt the hot tears binding me. | could not let
him leave me IN anger l had made step to-
ward him when he spoke, and his words reused
all my old anger and discomfort IS
Violet he said, Il may not be here to
dinner. Don't wait for me it is impossi-
bIe-' a No1 E .Htd gafrJ . s.
MaKe no excuses, SIR, repled haughu-
ly; ''uone are needed > @
Oh! those sad, reproachful eyes But his
lips uttered no retort He only said, Good
by, DEAR and went out. a@ -,
l watched from the window, hidden behind
a curtain, as be rode away through the driving
rain. The memory of that day comes back to
me like terrible dream Toward evening my
agony became uncomfortable; and as the rain
poured in torrents, determined to drive over
to my husbands Office in the neighboring vii
lage. About halfway, we met covered carri-
age, containg lady and gentlemen,
.7 why, that's Mir. Reade!' exclaimed my
driver, as the vehicle dashed past us.
One glance confirmed his words 1t was my
husband, and by his side was the same woman
that / had seen with him once before. My res
olution was taken on the instant | ordered
my servant to drive back to Swans Nest /
would not wait my husbands return, said to
myself; | could not even charge him with his
7iDfdelity; would go away at once, and never
let him see my face again. s 50 e 9
La short time l was ready for my departure
/ wrote note for Ho ace, telling him that /
believed our marriage had been an unwise one,
and that [ should be happier with my own
friends begged him not to hunt me down
as fugitive; but to leave me to follow the
bent of my inclination. / put the note upon
my life had been so happy. La less than a
week, my father and were on our way to Eu-
rope. S
AT the expiration of two wretched years we
returned and learned from our lawyer that
my husband had sailed Tor China, first making
over to me, in fee simple. all his real estate =
lie never, so the lawyer said, expected to re-
turn. went back to Swan's-Nest Every
thing was unchanged. The rooms were just asr
l had left them. My husband would not let
them be touched the housekeeper said. Had
she ever heard from him n" | asked. "Oniy
once," she replied 'and then the letter CON
tanned another; it was on my dressing-table .
| went for it myself, and read it, sitting there
in our old room
Violet, it began, s'you must pardon this
intrusion. 1t will be the last, for, in all human
PROBABILITY, the disease that now consumes me
will soon give me a crave in a foreign land. -
But there are few things | wish to say before
die. was wrong not to explain all to you
from the first But desired to spare you what
you might consider disgrace thought you
could aud would trust me. It was my sister
you saw. She was vain and frivolous, and ran
away with profigate. The marriage was il
legal aud Ethel was disgraced She came to
me for help. | could not refuse her. l was
taking her to safe asylum when was absent
that night. You understand it all now. Don't
be troubled, dear. but forget me and be happy.
My sister is dead now, and have. not, fear,
long to live God bless you dear! In heaven
all these wrongs will be rightt d. -
For two years | lived alone at Swans Nest
two years of inexpressibe agony; the
news came! A steamer, homeward bound
from Calcutta was lost, and Horace Reade
was one of the passengers That was the death
Of hope
Another year dragged by One sweet May
evening strolled down to the sea-shore. The
sun was setting ia waves Of gold and purple
and full moon came up, flooding great sea.
and the long strech of giittering sand, with
misty splendor The tide rolled in with low,
mu.ical murmur sat down on a rock.
Far out upon the bar, stately vessel swung
at anchor, and little boat from it was coming
in. [ watched the tiny craft with kind OF fas-
cination Presently it grated on the sand, and
a man sprang ashore
A wild. nameless hope took shape in my
heart. I arose and tottered forward, blind, and
halfnnconscious. The instant after strong
arm clasped me-
| looked up into the face above twas wan,
knew it in an instant
"Oh, Horace my husband |" cried, ''for-
give me .
Then felt his tears upon my cheek, his kiss
es on my lips The happy world, drowned in
the splendor of the spring sunset, faded out,
and sunk into his arms insensible
1t is all over the renorse, the loneliness the
aching pain We live in Swan Nest, my
dear, forgiving husband and myself
Il had engaged my passage. he said, ''in the
steamer that was lost. But fell i'll, and could
not come then and that sickness has restored
me to you, thank God y
/ thank him also. daily and hourly, for this
undeserved, this perfect bliss. Peterson's for