The Pacific commercial advertiser. [volume] (Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands) 1856-1888, 1873-06-14
MY WIDOW.

was too young and pretty.
Farnum advised me 70 be an old bachelor
told me q man past forty simply made a fool of
himself by matrImony.
Tewksberry-a man who Is notorious for never
minding his own busineas-told me she had had
a love affair with Harry Birmingham before he
went South.
Allen shook his head, and said Clara Myers
might be very pretty, but he liked somebody ma
turer and more settled. N. Bile married his
housekeeper the next week and she is mature
enough for Methuselah himself)
Everybody thought l was trying a dangerous
experiment; but | didn't pretend TO suit every
bOdy-so l simply suited myself. l went quietly
20 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 4 battalion of diamonds on a double
quick.
She was nineteen and | about nine and thirty.
She was az beautiful as a rose bud, with a shy,
pretty way, like a timid child, and l am a rough
old codger, sound enough at heart but like q win
ter apple, unpromising on the exterior.
In short, we are as unlike as May and Novem-
Der, and the good natured world shook it's head,
and said mo good could come of such an uu-
equal match" But she said she loved me, and l
believed her. Nobody could look into Clara's
blue eyes and not believe her, you see.
And the next day | made Il will and bequeathed
al my lTOpCTlSr ulCOuulllODd4lS. 10 my WIG
Are you sure you are doing a wise thing, Mr..
Folliott?" said Mardyn, the lawyer, pushing his
blue spectacles upon his forehead. until he looked
like 4 bald old gnome, with a 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, p" said brusquely. Don'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 a mere tool in your hands"
That's 1t exactly So 1 signed the will and
went home to Clara.
s'Oh, 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 gen
erously as you have done. and | don't know what
1 should do if you were taken away"
"There was young Birmingham, if all reports
were true" | mischievously began, but the
curl on Clara's lip stopped me.
"a mere butterfly" she said haughtily,
3 without brains or principle. Paul, Paul, |
have found a shelter in your true, loving heart
and | mean to nestle there alwaysl"
And then she cried-this foolish, sOft-hearted
little wife of mine.
Jones and Tewksberry might have called this
policy. Farnum would have said it 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 on his breast.
So things went on until the firm of which |
was managing partner, needed to send some one
to Calcutta to see after a turbaned scoundrel of
an agent, who had absconded with more money
than we could well afford to lose. Morrison was
old and feeble, HewItt's wife lay very i'll. SO L
was the one to go. l 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, | fell i'll of one of those burning climate
fevers in the bungalow of an old native priest,
II H. 1911 A. L. - a
year before | found myself on the deck of the
- Blue-eyed Mary steaming into New York har-
Dor.
And all this time Clara had never heard a word
from me.
L had written to her to prepare herself for what
seemed Utmost like my rising from the dead, but
L had afterwards found my letters in the pocket OF
the neglectful native servant who had undertaken
to deliver the mails to the Calcutta Office.
But 1t don't matter so much now . | thought,
50 she will be the more delighted, poor little girl
And then a cold chill seemed to creep through
my VEINS, like November's wind suddenly beating
across a bed of flowers.
Clara had heard nothing of me for nearly Is
months. What might not have happened in that
time? What Tewksbury. and Jones. and Allen,
and all the other prophetic ravens of my acquaint-
anee had said, required to my mind like the bur
den of an uneasy dream. | had been counting
the days, the very minutes, until we should touch
port DuG IOW lila my leeI rang OIlCe more upon
the payements of my native city, l actually dared
not go home.
l turned into n downtown restaurant, where [
had been wont to 60 in the days of my bachelor
hood, and skunk in the dark cOrner-the twilight
was Just falling and | was sheltered by the parti-
ton.
Hush That was Tewksbury's voice, harsh
and Earring, as of old.
"Just what might have been expected, - said
Tewksbury, pretty and young widows don't go
begging in this market"
"Folliott might have known it," growled old
Farnum. "Poor Folliott there were some good
points about him too. Sad thing that-very sad
thingl''
1--WE must all de-" said Tewksbury, gravely.
eyes, but a fellow would naturally prefer dy-
ing in his bed to being carried off by an East In
dian fever and buried in the jungles."
l shuddered. Had l then come home to my
own funeral, as it were?
land she's going to marry young Birmingham
after all - added Farnum.
The paper dropped from my hand.
81 could have told Folliott so when 1 found out
what a coufounded idiotic will he made said
Tewksbury. $50 gold has fallen again; just my
luck; 1 sold out tonight"
1 stayed to hear no more but staggered out in
the darkness, with the idea whirling through my
dizzy brain that my Clara was mine no longer,
1t was unquestionable, what Tewksbury had
said; l might have anticipated some such end. She
was too young, too lovely for such a rough old
fellow as l was. Ny widow-what a curious
the words gave me as 1 mentally pro-
them.
Under my own windows, with the ruby-red
shining through wine-colored damask cur
tains, L stood, feeling as Rip Van Wrinkle must
have felt in the play-like a dead man walking on
the earth once more. Voices and lights were
l opened the door softly and crept into
the hall.
The drawing-room door was ajar. Clara her.
self stood before the fire in deep black robes. with
a frill Of black Grape on her auburn gold tresses
the awful sign and symbol of her widowhood.
Directly opposite stood Harry Birmingham, look
ing diabolically young and handsome in the soft
"Clara, Clara" he cried, ''you surely are not
in earnest. You will reconsider"
My answer is final, - she responded. 1.-The