Bristol news. [volume] (Bristol, Va. & Tenn.) 1867-189?, 1873-12-23

| Before he could reach the door, John
| Porlman lad descended and opened it..
MIR. Portman's, sir?" said the man
holding out the letter:
"Yes.n
The solicitor glanced at the address.
| 1t was his wife's handwriting. He
guessed the fatal truth then. She had
| left him. But how-alone.
He closed the door heavily, and CO.
| ing into his library. locked himself In.
Then summonsing all the self-pU. aas-
sion of his strong nature, he Ope.. ed
! the envelope. 1t contained her we'd
| ding ing and letter.
before you read this'-so the letter
ran-"I shall have placed myself be-
yond the power of repentance. Blame
your coward act for it-not me. How
/ loved my cousin, even when mar
ried you, and sacrificed myself for my
old fathers sake, you know. How l
would have crushed that love in my
heart, and left nothing there but duty,
matters not now. You chose to think
me guilty when was innocent before
Heaven He had written to me many
times, L had only read the first; the
last ] destroyed unopened. The one
on which you founded your charge was
intercepted before it reached me. l
had never even spoken to him since |
accepted your hand. / never would
have done so, but for the indignity you
put upon me and say again, blame
your own coward act for the shame
and ruin that have blighted both our
lives :"
The shock was terrible one to John
Portman his name dishoEOred, at one
fell blow. Had he been a man of less
command of self, or less power of will,
it would have maddened him. As it
was, he refolued the letter, tied it up
together with some others, and placed
them, and the other trifiing relics, in
the hidden drawer of the cabinet, aHd
locked UP tie Secret Ill his own Heart
t5r ten l0iig years.
From that moment he became the
cold, stern, silent mali we have de-
scribed him. If in all the years any
sentiment of pity or forgiveness fDr his
lost wife grew up in his heart, he new
er Showed it i'll his daily life; TO: all
the evidence his outward being gave,
she might never have existed. Living
or dead, she was nothing to him-she
could be nothing in time to come.
1t was late in November, the snow
had fallen early that year, and thinly
covered the house-topS and untrOdden
places with its pure white mantle. In
the streets and roadways passengers,
horses and vehicles had trampled and
crushed it into a brown, half-melted
sludge, seeming like condensation Of
the murky fog that hung over the
great city.
It was barely four o'clock. but it was
quite dark what little light the sea-
son left at that hour had been blotted
out by thI fog. The lamps in the
streets made themselves-but little else
visible. Vehicles of all descriptions
were rattling through the streets, the
drivers shouting equivccal comDli-
ments as they miraculOusly avoided
collision with each other. Well
dressed and well-fed respectability
shouldered its way along the pave
ment as if engaged in race against
time while shivering, hungry power
| ty SUNK along or crouched in shelter
ing dOorways, having no part in the
! tGsy life arGnud them the whitening,
sapless oif-shOots of the parent stem
| civilization.
! Among the jostling, eager crowd
| Mr.. John POrtman made his way, cold
| and uuObservant of the scene around
| him. Beggars held out their hands
and put up their appeal for charity
| They might as welladdre>s themselves
to the granite pillar at the corner OF
the street where the solicitor halted for
| a moment to look at his watch 10y the
| light of the gas.
As he put his watch back into his
pocket there fitted 10y him-so close
almost as to touch him-a female fig
ure. shabbily and poorly clad Al
though its head was bent toward the
ground, he caught a glimpse of the fea-
lures, and i'll an instant recognized
them.
For a moment his heart ceased to
beat and then the blood coursed
through his veins as it had not done
for many 4 year. He staggered back
as if a heavy blow had struck him, but,
recovering directly, looked after the
figure receding in the darkness, and
followed rapidly in its track.
He soon neared her, for although
she walked quickly, her step faltered
frequently; and every now and then
she paused, with her hand to her side,
as if to take breath bnt always before
John Portman could satisfy himself
whether he had not made terrible
mistake, she passed on again.
What whirl of conflicting, tumul-
fuous thought made his brain giddy as
he followed that silent figure, his foot
steps noiseless in the snow! Could ii
be that she who had been dead to him
for ten years yet lived? or was 1t only
a spectre risen from The grave of mem
ory to haunt him OIL the night? He
could not then compose his thoughts
to any course of action but to follow
her to the end, and that was near.
She had now reached a row of mean
dilapidated houses branching from q
street full of glaringly lighted up shops
of the lowest class One fthese hous-
es she entered without knocking, fol
the door stood open, and John Port
man followed noisesly into the dark
efrtrahEe and up tire rickety staircase.
| He paused on the landing, looking
with fixed intent into the gloomy
chamber She had entered. She had
not closed the doO., and he C0Ild heaI
her short, labOred breathing and the
striking Of n!atGh then the feeble
light df a tSf'oV candle showed her tC
him plafhily. TtfefE was no doubt now
il was his wife.
But how changed-how terribly
changedi The features so round and
radiant with health were worn and
nallid. the bright eyes now dim and
sunken, the rosy lips now SO pinched
and drawn. He could not bear it, and
a low moan burst from his very heart
She heard it-turned and saw him,
and in that instant, fell upon ..hel
knees, hands outstretched, as ifto keep
him from her He stood in the door
way looking at the kneeling figure
his heart stirring with new emotions,
strange and dead to him for so many
years.
After little while she spoke in q
low broken voice, but still sternly and
distinctly. and he listened to the words