New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1874-08-23
TNwaY ADAM MELTON MARRIED HIS
ROUSEkEEPER.
BY NYM cRINKLE.

Twas probably more surprised than haf
been any of his friends on hearing when
returned to America that Adam Melton hai
married his housekeeper. OF all men in
the world he was, to my mind, the least
likely to throw himself away upon q woman
who was unworthy of him. Scholarly, fas
tidious, fO0llshly, almost m0rbidly, sensi
tive, and with an absurdly exalted notion
OF what q wife should be, it seemed in
credible that he should select for com
panion q mere chambermaid. But that
was what he had done, and they were
living in retired happiness somewhere up
town on q French fat.
Melton, OF all Others, was the friend tina,
/ should have sought out Immediately on
INV return. We were chums ten years be-
fore, and as intimate as l suppose it is pos
sible for two young men to be. And yet l
did not call on him for week. felt that
his marriage had in some way cancelled my
obligations; that it was violation of our
friendship, and an insult to all who had
trusted in his COED taste and his ambition
as l had done. 1t really weighed on me
and aggravated me for the frs two or
three days. But before the week was out
began to reason with myself; that / was
making greater mistake perhaps than had
my friend. Besides, wanted to see him
above everybody else. had hundreds of
little experiences to tell him which no one
their triviality, and l was bound to 60 to
him, whatever his circumstances and sur
rOundings, and renew our intimacy.
1t was q wet cold night in November
when, with his card in my pocket, set ont
to find him. On my way l recalled his
character and appearance when he was
student His delicate face, into which the
blood dashed with sudden impulse at the
slightest prOvOcatiOn; his fittul, nervous
energy that carried him over college diff
culties when we lubberly giants, as he
called us, gave out; the delicate refinement
of his mind, the Righteousness of his taste,
his womanly timidity, quickness and fine
ness of apprehension, and his strange aver
sion to being left alone at night. l remem-
bered, too, his literary talents, his brilliant
prospects, his wealthy aunt and his attach
ment to Jenny FeatherstOnaugh, one of the
most brilliant as well as the richest of the
many young ladies Of our acquaintance.
And when 1 thought of his marriage it
seemed to me that somehow he would ex-
plain it all away a. q ruse or q mistake
when found him.
He was living on the second story of one
of those uptown buildings called apart
maid, plainly dressed, admitted me to
richly furnished sitting room handsomely
decorated with brio q brac and costly pic
lures, and l waited in q quaint old chair
before the blazing CRATE for him.
Heavens, what gap ten years makes In
our lives! When Adam came in We looked
ut each other half a minute in silence and
amazement. saw q man prematurely old
and slightly round shouldered, whose soft
chestnut hair was fecked with tufts of
white, and whose face bore the ineradicable
lines, interviewer past all Interpretation, of
physical pain and mental overwork. For q
moment the OverpOwering sense of the vast
ness OF the experiences that were crowded
into the time that had elapsed since last we
met, and which was so inadequately ex-
pressed in the words ten years, seemed to
leave no room for other emotions. And
when We grasped hands cordially enough,
and called each other by our familiar
names, noticed that there was some
thing, not exactly cOnstraint, nor yet pre-.
cisiOn, in his manner. 1t seemed rather to
be deliberatiOn selfimposed that had be-
come habitual.
He was heartily glad to see me, and in
sisted that l should lay aside my wet gar
ments and heavy boots and spend the even
ing with him in slippers. So that presently
We were sitting beside his coal fire, and
was doing my best to interest him with an
account Of my wanderipgs and experiences
abroad. 1t was not difficult to do this.
had seen good deal of life during my
absence and felt rather vain of my story,
perhaps. Besides, l knew enough of Mel
toms tastes to be able to adapt my narrative
to his ears. So I ratified away glibly
enough, making all sorts of illusions to
the old times and the old ambitions, trying
occasionally to be little jocular, if not
cynical; over the ineyitable disappOint-
ments.
He let me run on for long time, occa-
siOnally asking q question or making an
observation Of surprise. When, however. l
alluded somewhat loosely to his change of
life and prospects he interrupted me:
"You were in the city, l believe,A week
before you called to see me y
att lie true" answered, "but tits easily
explained"
iBe frank" he said. "You were panied |
at the news of my marriage"
"That, too, would be pardonable in m old |
friend" / replied, "who had not yet vindi-
sated your Judgment by an acquaintance
With the lady"
II beg your pardon for not presenting
vou to nv wife before. You shall know /
,er. But / ask as O favor that you hear my |
,tory first. Ihave not told it before, nor in |
NV way attempted to vindicate my iudg-
nent. as you term it. 1t is true that have
mt the world for the woman l have mar
led. 1t is also tree that she was my
lousekeeper and destitute. of education,
riends and money. / nevertheless feel
hat you will compliment mo ON my ludg-
aent, and respect the woman OF my cnoico
,hen you have listened to me: ~ story
ill lack - variety and color OF your
harning tale Of personal adventure, ont IL