American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1874-07-18


| doesn't know what l heard him saying
Oh there never was such husband"
| For two or three mornings after that
having neglected to send up the men
who could remove the safe-the first
thing that saluted Mr.. Rothely's eyes as
he opened them was his wife, with hei
| pretty lace cap askew, and Il shawl drag
ging from her shoulders, reflected in two
or three long mirrors, and going over the
room in renewed search, while she
talked vigorously to herself. 1t is
getting to be worse than Blue boards
key" she was signing. Il sha'n't wait
another day before calling in the police
| If any of the servants took it and are
biding their time for Il raid on the safe
we are only assisting at the cutting of
our own Threats by this delay" And Mr.
| Rothcly, muttering something about its
turning up all right would dispose himself
| for another snooZe, but not Il sweet one,
we may surmise; for, somehow or other
| light hearted as Mr.. Rothely ought to
| have been in relation to his business, he
did not in these two or three days find it
possible to smile, and Mrs. Rothely could
not but observe his depression and de-
rive fresh trouble from it.
1t might have been on the third or
fourth of these mornings that as Mr.
Rothely opened his eyes he saw his
pretty wife prowling about the rooms as
on the previous days.
Still on the lookout" he said.
"Well, you will lose your wits. Here,
let me see!" And he seized his dressing
gown, wrapped himself in it, and was
presently beside her do you expect
to find it by shaking your ball dresses
like prcstidigitateur?" he asked.
but it may have gotten caught in the
folds, you know" she urged.
q" You had the furniture moved, you
said Did you turn back the edges of
the carpets'
Turn back the carpet! Mr.. Rothely,
it is your wits that are i'm danger. Do
you suppose the key has been lost super
naturally, that it can get under il car
pet?"
Il thought YOU didn't. Well, let us
see. H'm-h'm. Can you help me a
little? Monstrous thing! Give me those
scissors, please. H'm-hm-therc. Mrs.
Rothely, what do you call this? Here is
your key, slipped between the carpet
and the wall; and all the agitation of
your search, with its sweeping and NOV
ing, is only calculated to slip it still
further into hiding. told you the thing
would turn up" And he went back with
apparent composure to his sleep; but he
did not close his eyes at once, for it was
a tremulOus moment to him. A tremu-
lOus moment too to his wife; she clasped
the key moment to her heart with as
profound an ejaculation of thanks as if
she had been on her knees, and then she
flew to the little safe and unlocked it
and snatched the casket. Yes, there it
was, and there were the jewels in it,
with their old and exquisite filigree set
ting in gold-work of tiny shamrock and
thistle.
"Oh, my beautiesr' she exclaimed
How glad-how glad | am to see YOU
sparkling up at me again! Oh, how
precious you are. What should | have
done if l had lost your"
g l was quite right" said Mr.. ROthely
to himself. at is evident she would not
have parted with them. Women are
lovely creatures, but not reasonable ones.
Yes, | should have been sad fool" he
was thinking, bitterly, Ito have riskcd
my fortune for moment on the suppo-
sitiOn that she could prefer her husbands
honor to her baubles,' And lie closed
his eyes rs he lay there, perhaps to sleep,
perhaps to shut out the sight of the
woman he loved rejoicing over the deceit
that he had practiced upon her.
But what was this? All, what? What
were these soft arms round his neck, this
velvet cheek on his, this sweet voice
murmuring in his ear, this gay, light
hearted laugh, these sudden tearss
g Wake up-wake up, my darling" his
wife was crying Didn't I tell YOU I
had such IA delightful plan before / lost
the key to the safe? Didn't / hear you
talking in your sleep. and saying you
were to be ruined for the want of $780,
900? See here, my dear husband, Here
is 100000 in this little case, and it is all
yours, and you needn't feel badly about
taking it, for always kept the jewels as
if you lent them, and if they help you in
IL
pleasure than they ever did befOre!'
Mr.. Rothely sat up in bed, pushing
back the case, and staring straight before
him with wild eyes. "Oh. you think I
only care for gayety and glitter.' she
cried. g You think it is too great Il
ritice for me to make. But indeed, in
dced''-and here, with both arms about
him, and her face hidden in his breast,
she broke out in a fresh flood of sweet,
glad tears-''I never dared tell you, you
never seemed to want me to tell you, but
indeed had rather be-if only you are
pleased Oh, never was so happy in
my life, And you will take them?"
Was he dreaming? Was he here in his
own bed, in his own house, awake? Oh,
had he periured his soul for this! Had
he believed his wife to be so small in or
der that she might destroy him with her
greatness? Had he stolen her jewels that
he might receive from her the free gift
of these bits of colored glass? Must he
all his life carry round with him the
shame and memory of crimc-of a
crime, too, that was so useless? lie drew
away from her, shuddcring; and then, as
she still clasped him, he folded his arms
about her, and the tears that he was
weeping were different tears from hers
were tears salt as the salt with which the
desert is sowed,
Well, that was years ago. Mr.. ROthely
took the casket his wife had pressed upon
him and burned it in his office fire, case
and gold and all The world has pros
pered with him since then, and he has
replaced Mrs. Rothely's emeralds with
those which are much more magnificent
than the original But though now he
knows how firmly his wife believes in
him, knows that he need want no more
for sympathy and comfort, yet he feels
that he purchased that knowledge at a
price too dear. He cannot bear to see
her put her jewels on, for every ray of
their light is like Il needle pricking the
sore spot in his heart; and he never has
said another syllable about the words he
wants written on his gravestone. And
sometimes at night, when Mrs. Rothely
is in her happy dreams, and Mr.. ROthely
sits lingering by his dressing room fire,
the skeleton that slips into the opposite
seat makes him hide his face before it,
and wish he had never seen the light, and
vet it is only the image of himself as he
has seen himself to be.-Uurper's Bazar
A few days ago a lady of Bloomfield,
Iowa went to the PoStOtficc and asked for
some stamps. The clerk gave her some