The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1873-09-11

: But / was firm. Thank God, I wa
: firm. Better still, the change in Al
{ fred Knowles behavior ~ me mad
{ the fiimsy thing which I had ealIe'
my love for him, and which had har
no surer foundation than q flattere,
. vanity, melt away into thin air, AM
leave me nothing but thankfulnesi
for my release.
All this time my husband did no
relax in any of his attentions to me
| He vas uniformly kind and tender
he almost anticipated my wishes; anC
what touched me more than any
thing, he appeared fully To trust me-
l, who had proved myself so utterly
I unworthy of his confidence. Through
ont the period OF Alfred Knowles
bitter reproaehes to me and entreatie:
that I would change my purpose, ms
husband never seemed suspicious D
either my cousin or myself; on thC
contrary, he left Us together to hght
out cur battles, and was only Tor the
contrast made me think sol the more
tender afterward than before.
thought that I had never known
u Laurence as knew him then: I of.
ten said to myself that had I only
known him, must have loved him
too much to contemplate his dishon,
or. But the idea would make me
shrink from his eaTesses, feeling my.
self so unworthy of them, till lie was
panied to imagine what could have SC
distressed me.
Il One evening we were at the theatre
together-for he was careful to take
me to every place of amusement
when i Observed Alfred Knowles in
a box opposite to the one we occupied
He was accompanied by several other
gentlemen, and a very beautiful, bGt
eareworn woman, handsomely dressed
was leaning over the front Of the box.
.'DO not notice your cousin tonight,
dear Marion" said my husband, in q
whisper. 81 will give you my reason
presently"
obeyed him, as, indeed, I had nc
wish to do otherwise; but stole sew
eral furtive glancss opposite in the
course Of the evening. I observed
that, beautiful as the woman was,
none of the men appeared to pay her
much attention; that they talked to
each other without intermissiOn, al
though she put up her hand several
times, as though to entreat their
silence; that at the close of the play
they left her to cloak herself, and that
she followed them out Of the box with
out being offered the arm of any one.
| guessed who she might be, but
left my husband TO tell me when he
thought fit. As we were driving
home, he said:
81 wonder Knowles likes to show
himself in public with a person OF
that character. OF course, Marion,
you DO not know who she is?''
/ acknowledged my ignorance.
"POor creaturew he replied, "what
she IS is best not told; but she lUds the
wife of one of the peers of the realm,
and the woman to be envied, perhaps,
in England. She made one false step,
and for the sake of man who forso0k
her month afterward-and there she
is; very beautiful still, as you see, but
devoid of all claim to our respect or
courtesy. 1t is q dreadful thought,
isn't it, little woman?''
A dreadful thoughe-ahI was it not?
He would have clasped me to him, but
l shrank back into the further end OF
the carriage seat, and trembled to
think that in will, if not in deed,
had been as lost as the woman he
spoke of. Had been?-yes! Thank
heaven, need not alter that sentence;
the will had now as completely van
ished as the probability of the deed.
My health now began to fail so con-
siderably that my husband took me
away to the seaside.
Laurence thought it was the close
London air; the doctor recommended
tOuics and a change. L knew the real
reason well, and thought the only
change which could heal me was
death. 1 was beginning to love my
husband; the more L was convinced
of this tina more wretehed felt. !
could not live under the burden OF de-
ceit which my whole life was to me,
but neither had the courage to con-
fess to Laurence that had so wronged
his trust. What, then, was left fol
me but to die2 / was so strongly i'm
tually brought myself down to the
doors of death. Laurence took me
away to a quiet watering place, and
had the best advice, but it was of no
avail; grew weaker and weaker.
LIS bCIhCAhEoo " mt ACNGl ldAlCus
Often would he entreat me to tell him
if had anything on my mind-tO be
assured OF his full forgiveness before
] / spoke-to believe that he would moi
fail to love me through everything.
But still / could not speak. 1t was
| all very well for him, ignorant of the
true cause Of my melancholy, 10 en-
treat me to reveal it, but were l to
take him at his word, I was convinced
| that the effect would be far different
from what he supposed. He could
not love me with that knowledge on
his mind; be would cast ME from the
/ light of his presence forever.
And SO lay, and looked at him,
and longed to disburden my soul, and
yet dared not do 50, until weeks had
tresolved themselves into months, and
l really thought I was dying. One
evening, when | felt weaker than
usual, and he had been more than
usually kind to me, burst into Hood
Of tears and hid my face in the sofa
cushions.
He came to me at once-my hus.
band, whom / had learned to love so
much-and took my head and laid il
on his breast, and tenGerly reprOaehed
me for my weakness.
'iNo, no not there ~ I exclaimed,
tearing myself, in the pain of self con
vietioD, from the position he had
caused me to assume; ''not there
Laurence. am not wOrthy!'
''Not worthy, my dear wife?' he
said graveiigy. "If you are not who
is?"
Then his appSreat perfect trust in
my goodness broke down the barriers
of shame which had prevented me
hitherto from telling hh2 the truth
and thought that, sooner than live
any longer and endure the bitter re,
proaeh of his unsuspecting pr2ises
would be thrust forth by hisOwn hand
| from the roof which / had 50 neSrly
deserted.
"Stop, stopu' exclaimed wildly
laurence, hear me speak" :"
Then / told my wretched story, rap
idly, and mingled with tears, but with
/ my face still buried in the sofa cush
ions. 1 told him all-from the first Il
the last. Ibid not rest until l haC
made a clean breast of it.
When 1 had finished (the miserable
recital did not take long / lay still
scarcely breathing, till / should hea
his exclamations OF horror and sur
! prise.
lay still, determined to accept will
patience anything his outraged feel
ings might eboose to infiict on me
But all that issued from his lips was
lssWelI, dear wiGe?1
I looked up timidly, and met hi
blue eyes gazing at me with the ut
most tenderness, though there wa
sadness mingled with their love.
"Laurenee 90 I gasped, ''stTike me
: kill me- but don't look at me lik
, that 1 have told you all, as there is
I God in heaven! And now you know
| why am not worthy Of your love.
"And what IL knew it BEFORE Ma
rian ?D he asked gently.
} j raised myself in my amazemeni
and stared at him. Yes, it was truth
! i read it in his candid eyes; he ha
[ known it, and-he had loved m
I through it all.
l had no words wherewith to than
! him, no courage TO make protesta
tions for the future; 1 could onl
, kneeI there sobbing, and trust to M