The anti-monopolist. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1874-1878, 1874-12-31

"sBut you do care!' she cried you
shall care! tell you l always laughed
at you and despised you. l only mar
ried you from pique-because he left
me. l got into his family, and toadied
them, and made myself their servant.
only to hear of him, and to feel nearer
him, and be where he had been-l love
him so! love no one else in the
world never did. | would kill you.
and dozen like you. to save him from
fingcrache. would rather thou
sand times have blow from him than
kiss from you-a hundred times
When think of him, and that you are
between us, I hate you'll abhor you!
How dare you smile at me! III kill
you'll
81 was quite unconscious Of smiling
but she darted at me, and struck at my
throat. | caught her hand; this time
she had pcnkl,ife in it. and felt that
she had pricked me. That instructive
act of self-defense reused me. and prob
ably saved my wits as well as my life.
thrown the knife away, l held
her hands in mine till she put down
her face and bit them savagely. tied
her wrists with my pockethaAdker-
chief, and she sank painting on a chair.
All Of sudden the unhappy creature
burst out crying as if her heart was
broken-as we'll it might be. Probably
Ringwold's cool treatment Of her
throughout the interview recently
ma cSnI of l,ctfn,,, 1>ft hat
of vituperation, that desperate beha-
viour toward me. She did not hate me,
but was simply mad with pain. and
raved and struck out in her dclirium.
| think she really liked me when she
married me, notwithstanding her as
sertions to the contrary, and meant
and wished to lead a new life but the
sight of Ringwood' name in the papers
and the knowledge of his nearness, in
my absence, revived her passion fo,.
him. in which her good resolutions
burnt like straw | released her hands
and brought water and put it On her
lips and when she was quiet through
exhaustion, Tadvised her to lie down.
and hoped she would go to sleep. AS |
was leaving the room she called me back
in a low, broken voice, and when stood
beside the sofa on which she
lay, she joined her hands, and ask ed
me, with streaming eyes, to forgive her.
| did SO, freely. OF course, Ringwood
was right. | had no one but myself to
thank. My infatuation had been so
monstrous. that | could no more COM
| plain of the consequences than man,
| sober, can complain of the consequences
Of some drunken folly.
''1n the morning | took Fanny away
to farm house in Kent, place she
knew of, and chose herself for retreat.
She ives quiet and humble, and appar-
eKtly broken-spirited. But she did not
remain there month; nor do | know
whittier she went, or where she has
! been ever since. Before she left she
wrote me long letter expressing her
remorse at her behavior toward me
| bad as | arr. ended she, Il will never
| trouble you more. do implore you to
be sure of that, and to forget me, or
think of me as dead.
81 am afraid to think Of her al all.
| made every possible effort to trace
her, quite in vain: and | hardly know
where would be the good if l succeed
ed"
That's all, added Ur0uehart, after
moments pause, land there's the his
tory Of your friend and the wife Of his
bosom and if you still wonder how or
when my devil got into me, | don't.
believe you love me we'll enough to
think he is not so black devil as he is
painted. am not the kind Of man in
whose heart such cash could be made,
and heal and leave no mark. For /.
long while this world seemed, and often
does seem, an Inferno; nothing but
plunging and breaking one s heart in
swamp Of suffering, with intervals Of
quiet from mere exhaustion and de-
spair. o Charley! how | wished your
mother had been alive! wanted some
kind woman, that was honest and pure,
about me; we men all do in our dark
hour. Bdstd, let us 60 down to the
drawing-room. and your friends, and
the lamp. By Jovc, what fash!
There's mighty storm brewing, young
fellow"