Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1874-05-23
ATRUE WIFE.

uOtti at W 1lleCiiU. tNO lauieS sat III
conversation, unheeding, because una.
ware of, listener behind the closed
blinds of a window near them. Not
an intentional listener, for he was deer
ly absorbed in the contents of new
ly-arrived letter, when the sound oil
his own name attracted his attention,
One OF the pretty young matrons was
speaking, and said:
can imagine how such spark
ling, brilliant woman as Mrs. Lancas-
ter ever came to marry that solemn
piece of granite, Edward Lancaster. !"
Solmen piece of GRANTEE One of
our most profound scholars, Edith
A thorough gentleman, too, and very
wealthy"
Wealthy" repepeated the first
speaker. L suppose that accounts
for it. She married him for his money,
of course"
And spends it royalty. / can't i'm
agine Edith Lancaster without the
surroundings of money Her dresses,
her jewels, her carriages, seem very
part of her.
But she would be beautiful in a
print dress and straw hat
Here she comes now, in her new
/ yachting dress Is she not lovely?"
The dark eyes behind the closed
blinds followed the same direction as
those of the two ladies. Coming to-
ward the hotel was a merry party, who
| had been on the water for several hours,
and prominent in the group Of pretty
women was tall, slender brunette, in
jaunty dress of blue cashmere with
gilt buttons, and broad hat, from uD-
derneath which could be seen face of
exquisite beauty. The perfect oval of
shape, the clear, olive complexion and
crimson cheeks, the regular features
and dark eyes, were all in an oriental
style: while masses of purple-b black
hair needed no artificial additions to
wreath the small, shapely head with
heavy braids.
She was chatting merrily and
laughing as they talked, as if youth
and happiness were personifed in her
beautiful face.
The man who watched her from the
closed blinds was tall. broad shoulder
ed and strong featured. His hair,
thick and curling, was iron gray, and
piled high above a massive forehead
his eyes deep set, but very large and
full of earnest expression. Not n
handsome man, but one whose air of
distinction was undoubted-a man who
won d 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, till, with a groan, he
rose and went to his own room, closing
the door behind him.
There was little resemblance to gran
ite in his face, as he paced up and
down this room. 1t worked convul-
sively, and the emotions that in wo-
man would have been vented in pas
sionate tears found expression only in
an occasional sigh that was groan.
He was living over the last three
years of his life, as he walked up and
down. Until that time he had been a
scholar only. With large wealth, in
herited 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 favOrite science or
study. His money matters were ar
ranged by his lawyer, and his house
hold affairs by a housekeeper, while his
books were his world.
From this scholarly seclusion, at the
age of forty he was awakened by
a call of friendship. being summoned !
by an old school mate who besought |
him to become guardian of very
modest fortune he was about to leave !
to his only child. Obeying this sum-
mons, Edward Lancaster found his
friend already dead, and the orphan
turning to him for consolation. He
took her home, gave her to Mrs. Keene, |
his hOusekeeper, as he would have |
done with baby, for care and CON-
fort, and retired again to his study.
Between his eyes and the pages of |
his book came ever the face of the Or |
phan girl. He found himself sitting idly |
before his papers, listening for the
sound of musical voice in the passage |
or garden. He neglected his studies,
to count the hours between meals, |
when he met his ward at table. Never |
before had a woman's face or voice !
wakened even a passing emotion in |
Edward Lancaster's heart, and, inter |
est once aroused, love crept in and took
root, deep, strong, lifelong. There
was no possibilityof driving away this |
love, once it was admitted. 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 10 his books once |
more; but never again could the same |
peace he had known be found.
When he told the child (she was bui
seyenteen) 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 married within six months of |
Edith's arrival at her new home.
Once she was his own, Edward Lam
caster made his wife perfect favorite /
of fortune. He left his favorite- be-
loved library to escort her to gay wa
tering places in summer, to balls and |
parties in winter. He never counted
the cost of any indulgence she craved /
Her dress was of hecOstliest descrip-
ton; her jewels were the envy of her
circle of friends; and she had but to
name wish to have it gratified. She /
was ofthe sunniesttemperament, child
like In her gratitude, and flirting from
pleasure to pleasure as bird from
fruit to flowers.
Life had been very sweet to Edward
Lancaster in the three years following
his marriage, though many wondered
how he came to marry hischild wife
But as he paced his room in the
Whitcliff hotel. Edward Lancaster
questioned his happi ness as he had
never questioned it before. The letter
he held fast in his clenched hand, the
conversation upon the porch, combin-
ed to probe his heart to its core, and
the question hidden there rose to the
surface.
Did Edith love him?
She had been always gay, tender, af-
fectionate, deferriug to his wishes,
more like child with an indulgent
father than wife for, as yet, but lit
tie wifely duty had been exacted of I
her. OF household care she had none.
Her life had been passed in perpetual |
pleasure-seeking, with no cali for sac
rifce.
But the letter, the fateful letter, told |
tba faDdar buc hand that ,ba xx,ooJ.h bo