Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1873-12-01
JOHN PORTMAy's SECRET.
Ay INTERESTING SroRr.


terms Buildings, Lincoln's Inn, Was defcien,
II was sentiment. His most malignant enemy
would not have accused hum of thus weakness
ms detractors-being prosperous man, he had,
Of course, plenty-called him very cold and un-
feeling; his friends modified this opinion. some
what and saidFhat he was. practical q" There's
no nonsense about John POrtman," was a
complimentary.
stern, innexible man, marking out his Path
IN NE with a rigid, unbending barrier OF duty,
plying no weakness-no inhrmity of poor har
manity. Such failings were foreign 10 his ma
tqre, and he had no sympathy with them. To
all outward seeming he was a man Tor whom
love, pity, chaTity-Su the softer aud tenderyT
emotions that, like bright flowers beautifylng
the rugged path OF lfe-had no existence
1t WAS considered an exquisite piece OF drolI-
cry on the part Of the junior clerk in Mr.. Port
man 6 once, who was also by unanimous con
sent OF his fellows elected ''srch wag )" or head
joker" of the establishment, for that young
gentleman to whisper behind his hand as he
passed to his employers private room with the
morning letters. Here's some more billet
oouN-scented." Also about the ePoch OF ~
Nalt ntine he would convulse his brother clerks
hy howery descriptions OF a georgeou~ combine
non OF paper, lace and flowers that he hal seen
in MIR. Portmsn's room. coupled with verses re-
| msrkably amatOry and idiotic.
The humor OF these tests Law. of course. in the
apparent impossibilty and incongruity of com
meeting Mr.. John Portman seriously with the
"teHder passion He was 50 hard. aud stern
and cold that the bare idea wOnld have pso-
vokcd smile from the gravest lips. Yet tue
time had been, and not 50 very many wears
since, either, when John Portman had ioyed
and tended on a woman.
Deep in the innermost recesses of his priya.e
cabinet there was a secret drawer. the spring of
which was stiff and rusty from long disuse. Ii
held copy of a marriage certificate, a few let
| tiers tied with tiny blue ribbon. a miniature
| portrait of a fair Young face, with dark violet
| eyes, set in gold brown hair aud which. even in
,he smile II wore, had naughty, willfui look,
Deep in the innermost recessas Of John Port
mans heart lay the secret OF which the cabinet
4 haII fh.l sill L. TN.al..
were as still within his bosom, none but him
self could tell but his grave, calm face no more
betrayed itself than did the impossible, insensi-
Tenye before John Portman had been, in
ms grave, quiet way, happy man. lie had
fallen in love with the original OF the miniature
which lay fading in his secret drawer aud at
ter some little opposition, his suit with Edith
Gray had prospered.
The opposition came not from Mr.. Gray, but
from the young lady herself.
There was some foolish boy and girl affec-
ton" the father explained to John Portmau
(Which had existed between Edith and profit
| gate cousin of hers; but il was of no cOnse-
quence, il should be put a stop to. Henry Lor-
raine disappeared from the neghborhood: and
| shortly afterward Edith Gray gave a cold, con
strained assent TO John POrtmsn' 5 proposal,
At that time he was thirty years old: tau AMI
well formed. and even handsome, but for a
| stiffness IN his motion and cold immobilitv OF
feature, which never seemed 20 unbeud or warm
into grace and geniality.
He was rich maq, too; but how far that cir
cumstances had led Mr.. GRAY TO persuade or
even COerce Edith into an acceptance of him
John POrtman did not care 10 inquire.
In the end they were married, and the man,
otherwise SO cold and imp isSive, seemed to
change in the society of his beautiful young
He loved her with the quiet. deep intensity
that belongs only to such nature as his, and ne
lavished on her all that his wealth could pro-
cure or his love could invent.
| Edith returned his strong devotion but coldly.
or rather she received its evidence but pas
Sively. But be would have cOntented himself
even with that scant recOmpense, and lived on
uncomplainingly, but for a change which came
| upon his young wife about year after the mar
rage.
Her manner towards him up to this time could
best be described as sort Of passi endurance.
She Obeyed him, and yielded TO him; not sub
| missively-that word would not convey the
| right meaning-but as if she were too proud OF
cOntemptuous TO oppose herself to him IN any
| thing.
| Suddenly she changed Mr. Portman M
| ticed with wonder that her mood would alter in
the most inconsistent way. At times Edith
would be silent, and even sullsn: then she wOuI
| pass at once, without any intermediate stage,
INTO forced hveliness and gaiety vet more be
wildering TO him; and at rare intervals she
would be tender, almost loving i'm her bearing
| and John POrtman often thought IN after n me
with bitter regret, that III he had Anticipated
the Wlstful pleading look in her beautiful eyes.
and encouraged her confidence, what misery
might have been spared them both!
That thought, like many another, came to
him too late. Edith's confidence remained un-
spoken, and the catastrophe was drawing
nearer. One day, by accident, MIR. Portman
discovered that there existed correspondence
between his wife and her old lover, Henry
Lorraine. He did not KNOW that it had or; 81
mated with her cousin, and existed solely on his
sldei MT. Portman did not stay to inq uire. Al
most mad with jealousy, but even then presery-
ing his cold, calm exterior, he sought his wife
She came to him dressed for some occasion; "a
dinner party or a ball-he had forgotten what.
But through ali these after wears he remem-
bered her as she looked then-so Tadiantly beau
tiui that it maddened him to think Of her
reachery. He made his accusation in such
harsh, cruel words that her proud spirit rebel
| led at once Indignantly, and she would conde-
scend to no refUtatiOn or explanation; she only
laughed bitterly in his face, and with such an
expression of scorn in her brilliant ewes that
the gaze seemed to search his very soul. lie re-
peated the accusation in such words that lndig-
| him that he lied!
He lost command of himself then, and struck
| her with his open hand upon her bosom. Edith
| did not finch OF utter a sound, but stood Look
| ing hNedly at him for moment, her lovely face
pallid and rigid as marble, the mark OF his hand
| on her bosom changed to a deep angry red.
Then she turned from him and was gone
He did not follow her, or stop her, his own
rash act had almost terrified him; and he would
have given worlds 10 have recalled il. His an
ger thus turned back in its course, made him
reflect, too, whether he had not been too hasty
in his accusation. The evidence he held-an
intercepted letter from Henry LOrraine-did
not criIainate Edith. Ii was only a passionate
SIN, and an entreaty for an interview: nothing
to show that she had forgotten Ter duty so lar
as TO have written to bim--nOthing to show that
she was guilty beyond the fact that she had
withheld from her husband, the knowledge that
her cousin had dared to write to her in such a
manner. Mr.. POrtman gave himself half an
hour 10 reflect and decide upon some course OF
action, and then went softly to his wife S dress
ing room.
There was no reply 10 his summons at the
door-no sound Of any one stirring within. He
entered; she was not there, nor in her bed
room. He rang the bell for his wife's maid.
She told him that her mistress had dressed and
gone out nearly half an hour before; she did not
know where her mistress had gone.
John Portman dismissed the girl, and set
himself TO thinking. There was a strange
heavy foreboding of evil at his heart that would
not let him rest or hope. He waited until the
FEELING of suspense became too great to bear.
lie wrote note, and making out a list OF
places to which he thought Edith might have
gone, despatched a messenger with Instructions
TO go 10 each of the houses named in the list.
until he found his mistress, then to wait and at
tend her back.
The time went slowly and YEARLY by. One
two-three-four, and neither his messenger
nor Edith came. His suspense, his growing
nf axfl -s.l.ns