The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1871-12-21
Etsy PeytOn.

"Do not return to the Grange, Etsy.
Come with us to Newport. The beau
tiful Mrs. Peyton will be the rage
there, as she has been in Philadelphia
this winter, even though she does keep
herself so close"
Etsy's lip curled with something OF
the haughtiness Of early days.
"I cannot, Aggie. I am tired OF
gayety. Oh, this is such hard world
to get through. am so tired of it
so tired of livingw
"What, Etsy! tired of living at
twenty-five?"
"E1en so, Aggie fatherless, mother
less, and a deserted wife-it is
enough"
mot deserted, Etsy; you have
twice refused to join him."
"Yes, L know we have both erred
We are both too proud. In some OF
my moods I do not blame Lionel.
was so changed, so sallow, and bOny,
and homely, and then / never could
forgive him that first unconscious
start and shrinking away. I had
loved only Lionel in all my life, and I
forgot for the moment how changed l
was, and flew TO meet him. He re-
covered himself in a moment, but it
seemed as if it changed my whole
nature, and grew cold and disdain-
full; but great pain was at my heart
even when I seemed most Indifferent
I have the same pain tonight"
"You love him still, Etsy?"
The crimson lips grew scoInful, and
then tremulous.
'Yes. 1 have never loved any one
else. You will think me mean spirit
ed, Aggie?"
'rN0, Etsy; I honor you for it. But
we will not talk of it. Papa will go
anywhere I wish. 1 have never been
to Niagara; if you would like, we will
90 there, where all will be strangers
to us.D
So they went to Niagara-Mr. War
neT, Agnes and Etsy. Leaving the
ladies in the reception-rOom, Mr..
Warner went to register the names in
the book of entry, but returned in a
moment with face from which every
vestige of color had flown.
'Etsy, when 1 went to write my
name, a gentleman was just returning
his pen to its case, and the ink was
yet vet with the name of Lionel
PeytOn."
"My husband?"
81 fear so but do not grow so pale,
child. 1 thought perhaps you might
wish to leave this place, and so did
not register our names.
The beautiful pale face was pitiful
to see.
"Stay, let me think. 1t might not
be my husband, and yet l never knew
a Lionel Peyton out of our family.
Was the gentleman's face anything
like this ?n and poor Etsy took a
miniature from her jewel case.
"Yes, it is very like, only this face
is more youthful. The face saw was
bearded, and bronzed, and care-wOrn
looking"
"If thought he would not know
me, would stay and see him for my
self-I would like to-"
"He would never know you, Etsy.
You are as unlike the Etsy Of fifteen
as you are the wife of twenty. 1 think
you might remain with perfect safety;
and it may not by your husband after
all"
So Etsy stayed, and on the book of
entry was written Mr.. Ely Warner
and daughter and Mrs. Willis.
ave will call you Essie, and then
if it is your husband he will never
know you"
Mr.. Warner was right. Lionel Pey-
ton could never recognize in this brill
liantly beautiful woman either the
rosy schoolgirl of fifteen or the wife
of twenty. Etsy at twenty-five was
tall and stately, with clear, dark
skin, brilliant color, and large,
shadow-haunting eyes, in whose
depths lsy a great pain; you felt it as
soon as you saw her. 1t was her hIs-
band, Etsy knew him the moment
she saw him. 1t was in the dining
room she first met him. He looked
at the party entering, as any gentle
man would look at pretty women, his
gaze resting longest on Etsy, her
gorgeous eastern beauty Over-shad-
owing the pale loveline5s of Agnes
Warner, but it is evident he did not
recognize her.
He was bronzed and bearded, and
sometimes more than care-worn-sad.
Etsy began to question whether he,
too, had not suffered. They sat at the
same table day after day, this husband
and wife, till poor Etsy's heart was
like to break. By and by Mr.. Warner
made Mr.. Peyton's acquaintance in
the reading-rOom, and together they
travelled over Europe-where Mr.
Warner once spent many years of hi:
life-Mr. Peyton's great descriptive
powers, painting, as with a pencil
every subject he touched upon.