The Hickman courier., 1874-05-16
A TRUE WIFE.

TRUE WIFE.
Upon tue terrace of the principal ho-
| tel at Whitecliff, two ladies sat in con-
versation, unheeding, because unaware
| of. a listener behind the closed blinds of
a window near them. Not an intention
al listener, for he was deeply absorbed
in the contents of newly-arrived letter,
when the sound of his own name at
tracted his attention. One of the pretty
young matrons was speaking, and said
s'I can't imagine how such spark
| ling, brilliant woman as Mrs. Lancaster
| ever came to marry that solemn piece of
| granite, Edward Lancaster.
"Solemn piece of granite One of
| our most profound scollars, Edith A
thorough gentleman, too, and very
wealthy"
Wealthy" repeated the first speak
| er. ''I suppose that accounts for it.
She married him for his money, of
course"
land spends it royalty. I can't i'm
aCine Edith Lancaster without the sur
roundings of money. Her dresses, her
jewels. her carriages, seem very part
of her."
"But she would be beautiful in
print dress and straw nat.
"Here she comes nov, In her new
yachting dress. Is she not lovely ?"
The dark ewes behind the closed
blinds followed the same direction as
those of the two ladies. Coming toward
the hotel was a merry party, who had
been "A the water for several hours, and
prominent in a group of pretty women
was tall, slender brunette, in jaunty
dress of blue cashmere with gilt but
tons, and broad hat, frCm underneath
which could be seen a face of exquisite
beauty. The per4ct oval of shape, the
clear, olive complexion and crimson
checks, the regular features and dark
eyes, were all in an oriental style; while
the masses of purple-black hair needed
no artificial additions to wreath the
small, shapely head with heavy braids.
She was chatting merrily and la gh-
ing as she talked, as if youth and hap
piness were personiied in her beautiful
face.
The man who watched her from the
closed blinds was tall, brOad-shouldered
and cnrfinr was iron grsyh ls aha taied
high above a massive forehead his
eyes were deep set, but very large and
iull of earnest expression. Not hant-
some man, but one whose air of dlstlnc-
tion was undoubted-a man who
would be noticed in any assemblage of
men.
As he watched the radiant figure in
the sunlight coming toward him, the
shadow upon his brow grew deeper
every moment, t3, with a groan, he
rose and went to MS own rom, closing
the door behind him.
There was little resemblance to gran
ite in his face, as he paced mp and down
this room. It worked convulsi7ely, and
| the emotions that IN woman would
/ have been vented in passionate tears
! found expression only in an occasional
| sigh thatwas groan.
! He was living over the last three years
/ of his life, as he walked up and down.
! Until that time he had been 4 scholar
only. With large wealth, inherited
| from his father, he had devoted himself
| to the acquisition of knowledge, living
/ in his library, except when he travelled,
always in pursuit of some new light
upon a favorite science or study. His
money matters were arranged by his
LAWYER. and his household affairs by
/ housekeeper, while his books were his
world.
From this scholarly seclusion, at the
age of forty-five he was awakened by
call of friendship, being summoned by
an old schoolmate who besought him to
| become guardian of a very modest for
| tune he was about to leave to his only
child. Obeying this summons, Edward
Lancaster found his friend already dead,
and the orphan turning to him for con-
ISOLATION He took her home, gave her
to Mrs. Keene, his housekeeper, as he
would have done with a baby, for care
and comfort, and retired again to his
study.
Between his eyes aud the pages of his
| book came ever the fac3 of the orphan
girl. He found himself sitting idly be-
fore his papers, listening for the sound
of musical voice in the passage or
garden. He neglected his stndies, to
count the hours between meals, when
| he met his ward at table. Never before
had a woman's face or voice wakeuel
even a passing emotion in Edward Ian
casters heart, and, interest once aroused,
love crept in and took root, deep, strong,
lifelong. There was no possibility of
driving away this love, once it was ad-
mitted. Edward Lancaster knew that
Edith must be won if he was ever to
know happiness in life again. If he
lost her, he would live, bury himself in
his books once more ; but never again
could the same peace he had known be
found.
When he told the child (she was but
seventeen) he loved her, she nestled in
his arms, lifted her sweet face to his,
and promised to be his wife. He never
doubted her love, strange as it seemed,
| and they were married within six
months of Edith's arrival at her new
home.
Once she was his own, Edward Ian
caster made his wife perfect favorite of
fortune He left his favorite-beloved
library to escort her to gay watering
places in summer, to balls and parties
in winter. He never counted the cost
of any indulgence she craved. Her
dress was of the costliest description !;
her jewels were the envy of her circle
of friends ; and she had but to name a
wish to have it gratified. She was of
the sunniest temperament, child-like in
her gratitude, and flirting from pleasure
to pleasure as bird flies from fruit to
flowers
Life had been very sweet to Edward
Lancaster in the three years following
his marriage, though many wondered,
seeing the grave, elderly man, how he
came to marry his child wife.
But as he paced his room IN the Whit
cliff hotel, Edward Lancaster ques-
toned his happiness as he had never
questioned it before. The letter he
held fast in his clenched hand, the con-
versation upon the porch, combined to
probe his heart to its core, and the
question hidden there rose to the sur
face.
Did Edith lore him?
She had been always gay, tender, af-
fectionate, deferring to his wishes. more
like child with an indulgent father
than wife ; for, as yet, but little wifely