The workingman's advocate. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1864-1877, 1873-11-01
CHICAGO DETROIT NOVEMBER 1873

Of jasmine flowers foated past her. Per-
haps some thought of those withered bios
SONS in her cabinet troubled her. If so,
she crushed them back and fixed her at
tention upon the stage.
| 1t was a moonlight scene there repre-
sented, in the foreground an old bridge,
around whose rafters the shadows of
moonlight were Pickering; in the distance
was q city, and ON hill Just above the
bridge, an old church from whose tower a
bell was tOlling the midnight hour.
A man, middle-aged and travel-worn,
stood upon the bridge gazing down upon
the water beneath him, and then in a sad,
sweet voice, began the most beautiful Of
all songs, ''The Bridge"
Not sound save the voice Of the singer
~ he told the story of an exile's return to
the spot where the SORROWS, greater than
he could bear, seemingly were lived
through. As he sung of his inclination in
the days gone by, to throw himself into
the water, that the ebbing tide might bear
him away on its bosom away from the bur
dens and cares of hfe, the day of her temp
tation came back to Maud, when she, too,
had almost sought to bury her sorrows
beneath the waves
With her eyes fixed upon the stage, her
teeth Gle enched upon her lip, she sat rigid
as marble, every word she heard,
Like the oder Of brine from the ocean.
Bringing the thoughts of other years
She seemed once more i'll her Southern
home, standing upon the rustic bridge, a
loving, trusting girl, the jasmine bloom in
her hair shedding its fragrance around
her.
The voice Of the singer ceased, and the
curtain fell amid storm Of applause All
the old misery had come back with the
hearing Of that song and the scent Of those
flowers
With voiceless prayer to God to give
her strength to reach her home without
betraying her anguish, she turned to her
companion and desired to leave.
Noticing her extreme pallor, he hastily
assented and expressed his fears that she
was ill.,
''No, am only little tired" she re-
piled. AS they turned to leave the box
her eyes fell upon lady in the one behind
her. She did not recognize Ella Lyle un-
til a malicious smile fitted over the wo-
mans face; then there was no change in
the atmosphere, not single gaslight had
been extinguisned; yet in an instant ev-
erything has grown dark around her, and
against the blackness one face stands out
awfully clear--the face Of George Lyle.
He was gazing at Maud, and the mute
agony Of that gaze she never forgot
With a mighty effort she turned her
eyes away and, walking as though in her
sleep, she left the house.
The serpent she thought crushed to
death had suddenly started into life and
the tightening coils around her heart told
her that the creature was stunned, not
slain; her old love had come back at the
words of a song the odor Of flower
On reaching home she fastened to her
room, and taking a box from drawer,
she gazed upon the letters written while
George was at school, and the flowers,
withered and dead, like her hopes. She
had never been able to bring herself to
to destroy these relics of her past, but she
felt now that it was best that everything
that brought him to mind should perish.
IL have sought forgetfulness in dissipa-
ton, she said, land it has brought me
face to face with him. Henceforth | will
seek happiness in trying to do good to
others. | have wealth; | will spend it on
the poor and wretched." She walked to
the CRATE and laid the box with its con
tents upon the glowing Goals.
II was the morning after that the ser
want entered Maud's room and handed her
a card. She glanced at the name-it was
George Lyle"
She turned deadly pale, and motioning
the servant to leave her, she rose and
walked rapidly up and down the floor
''He might have spared me this" she
muttered, and stopped to pick the card
from the floor, where it had fallen Some
lines in pencil on its back caught her eye,
and she read
Don't refuse 50 see me; I'm going
away and must see you for the last time"
This decided her, and composing herself
as best she could, she went to meet him
He was standing by the CRATE, his arm
resting on the low inantel, and his head
on his arm. He did not look up as she
entered, and she went straight to him.
IL am here at your request, she said
He raised his head and looked at her
with that same sad. yearning look. He
did not offer to take her hand; perhaps he
feared to do so-feared himself For a
moment they were silent, then he said
Anu tIlS Is OuT Hhcctlilk dIItT AL THESE
years
She did not speak, only raised her hand
with an imploring gesture
81 know it is cruel to us both, this
meeting-but could not 20 away from
my native land forever without seeing,
speaking, to you once more. Don't think
| csme to this city to cause you pain /
never expected or intended to seek your
presence, for | thought You had taught
yourself to forget me or to think Of me
with scorn; but saw you last night, and
| kneic you had not forgotten; that you,
like myself, were still the same; still did
not think of seeing you alone until saw
the malicious smile on her face, as she
caught your eye, then determined to tell
you that she has Rersr for one moment tax
en- your place in my heart | believed her
a good woman when | married her (you
know ,chy was led tc it, for that villain
wrote me that he intended telling you the
plot) and l thought perhaps she might
make me happy after awhile, for my heart
was well nigh broken at your supposed
| falseness, and knew she loved me.
| We had been married short time, and
had found that / nerer could forget you,
and had begun to pity her because | could
not love her, when those letters came, tell
ing me Of our wrongs-yours and mine;
then my pity turned to hatred, and when
laid the package before her and taxed
her with her guilt she laughed in my face,
and said:
4 never intended you to know this, OF
course, but since you do know it | don't
care you are married to me now That
| Ill I -ankaI -