Wilmington journal. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1844-1895, 1872-03-01
MY WIDOW.

she had made love affair with Harry Bir-
lninSham, before he went South.
Allen shook his head, and said Clara
Myers might be very pretty, but he liked
somebody maturer and more settled. (N.
Bile married his houSekeeper the next
week and She is mature enough for Methu-
sclah himselfD
Everybody thought | was trying dam
gerOuS experiment; but didn't pretend to
suit everybody-so | simply suited myself,
L went quietly TO church with Clara Myers,
and married her one glorious January
morning, when the old St. paul's was
fringed with glittering icicles and the brisk
wind was freighted with the particles of
flying snow, like a battalion Of diamonds on
Z double quick.
She was nineteen and L was nine and
thirty. She was as beautiful as rose bud,
with shy, pretty way, like tinid child,
and am arough old codger, sound enough
at heart, but like a winter apple, unpromi-
sing on the exterior.
In short, we are as unlike as May and
November, and the good natured world
shook its head, and said : g no good could
come of such an unequal match" But she
said she loved me, and believed her. No
body could look into Claras blue eyes and
not believe her, you see.
And the next day l made will and be-
queathed all tny property, Internationally,
to my wife.
Are you sure you are doing wise
thing, Mr.. Folliott 2" said Mardyn, the law
yer, pushing his blue spectacles upon Bhis
forehead, until he looked like bald old
ghOme, with double pair of eyes. You
see, she is very much younger than your
self, and
"Please to be so kind as to mind your
own business" said l, brusquely. 'sDon't
be offended Mardyn, but really people seem
to suppose L am not able to attend to my
own affairs"
"Just as you please" said Mardyn, in a
rage. 81 am mere tool in your hands,
"That's it exactly" So l signed the will
and went home to Clara.
ooh, Paul, you must not die" said Clara,
with a scared look, when L told her what
had done. ''Nobody ever loved me as truly
and generously as you have done, and /
| don't know what / should do il YOU were
taken away -
"There was young Birmingham, if all
reports were true" | mischievOusly be-
gan, but the curl on Clara's lip stopped me.
GA mere butterfly" she said haughtily,
''withOut either brains or principle. Paul,
Paul, L have found shelter in your true
loving heart, and l mean to nestle there
always
And then she Cried-thiS foolish, soft
hearted little wife of mine.
Jones and TeWkSbury might have called
this policy. Farnum would have said il
was acting. But it was very pleasant, and
| felt more than ever like a man who has
found some precious jewel, and wears it,
like an amulet, OH his breast.
So things went on until the finn of which
was managing partner, nseded to send
some one to Calcutta to see after a tur-
hana6 Con1In6rol of 1,oI l.
seconded with more money than we could
well afford to lose. Morrison was old and
feeble-Hewitt's wife lay very ill, so | was
| the one to go. / kissed Clara goodbye as
cheerfully as / could, fully expecting to be
back in three months or so.
l had to follow the agent up into the
mountains Of India-I fell i'll of one of
those burning climate fevers III the blungas-
low Of an old native priest, and the months
flew by, until it was more than year be-
fore l found myself on the deck of the
''Blue-eyed Mary" steaming into New
York harbor!
And, all this time, Clara had never heard
a word from me!
| had written to her to prepare her for
what seemed almost like my rising from
the dead, but had afterwards found my
letters in the pocket of the neglectful
native servant who had undertaken 10 de-
liver the mails to the Calcutta office.
'EBut it don't matter SO much, nowr'
thought, she will be the more delighted,
poor little girl!
And then cold chill seemed to creep
, through all my veins, like November's
wind suddenly breathing across a bed of
flowers.
Clara had heard nothing Of me for
nearly fifteen 1pOnths-what might not
have happened in that time? All that
Tewksbury, and Jones, and Allen, and all
the other prophetic ravens of my acquaint-
ance had said, required to my mind, like
the burden of an uneasy dream! Ihad been
counting the days, the hours, the very
minutes until we should touch port-but
now that my feet rang once more upon the
pavement of my native city, [ actually
dared not 90 home.
1 turned into downtown restaurant,
"here had been wont to go, in the days
u my bachelorhood, and skunk in that dark
cOrner-the twilight was just falling, and
| was sheltered by the partition.
Hush! that was Tewksbury's voice,
harsh and EARRING, as of old.
':Just what might have been expected" )"
said Tewksbury. ''Pretty and young wild
ows don't go begging in this marketn'
"Folliott might have known it, growled
| old Farnum. ''Poor Folliott. there was
OOluO SOOu IBOlllJS dDOtIG Hill, L)Os kJdu
thing, that! very sad thing!
1--WE must all die,' said Tewksbllry,
gravcly.
Eyes, but fellow would naturally pre-
| fer dying in his bed to being carried off by
| an East Indian fever and buried in the
jungles!"
shuddered. Had 1 then come home to
my own funeral as it were?
"And she's going to mary young Bir-
minghaIn, after all ~ added Farnum.
The paper dropped from my hand.
81 could have told Folliott so when /
| found out what confounded idiotic will
he had made," said Tewksbury. $50 gold
has fallen again. just my luck; l sold out
| tonight ~
stayed to hear no more, but staggered
out in the darkness with the idea whirling
| through my dizzy brain-my Clara was
mine no longer!
1t was questionable what Tewksbury had
! said, / might have anticipated some such
end. She was too young, too lovely for
such rough old fellow as I was. My
widow-what curious sensation the
words gave me as l mentally pronounced
| them.
| Under my own windows, with the ruby
! red light shining through wine-colored da-
mask curtains, stood there feeling as Rip
| Van Winkle might have felt in the play
like dead man walking on the earth
once more. Voices and lights were within
opened the door softly, and crept into the
! hall.
The drawing room was ajar. Clara, her
self, stood before the fire, in deep black
robes, with frill of white Grape on hel
auburn gold tresses-the awful sign and
symbol of her widowhood. Directly op-
posite. stood Harry Birmingham, looking