Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1875-02-13
Daily 4runtbtt soafnal.
IFrom the Galaxy
JOHN WEIGHS WIFE.

IcoSCLUDED FROM YESTERDAY.
She stood moment bending forward
and looking up at him. Certainly never
was smile more innocent or sweeter than
Lauras.
Yes she whispered between each
word, Il will trust myself with you
Z To Mrs WEIGH the smile did not appear
so intoxicating, perhaps, as to her hus'
band She saw, too, that the black lace
about the mantle which she had put on
threw into stronger relief the tender eyes,
the white throat ''But it is not her art
that attracts him it is her frankness," she
said bitterly.
She followed them up the street into the
park, down one dusky alley of trees after
another. John WEIGH walked as in
dream, yet he had reason enough left to
compare this girl with his wife. She had
not pTinny's beauty nor even Intelligence,
but she was so transparent, SO guileless.
It was the virginia. quality in every look
and word that entranced him. Her abso-
Lutte innocence made herperhaps too often
in her words walk boldly where angels
would fear to tread.
They came at last to an utterly deserted
spot, where the heavily wooded bank
sloped down to the broad river. The
moon shone on the further bank. Laura
sat down upon bench under a tree, and
John stood leaning on the trunk looking
down at her.
ut is as lonely as Paradise must have
BEEN she said, where there was but the
water and the wood, and the man and
woman together"
How could she suggest such thoughts
Except in the very recklessness OF child
hood?
II Adam and you my Eve he said
with an uneasy smile, drawing his breath
quicker.
She nodded gaily. They were the first
friends, and YOU"
"a Am your first friend ?' eagerly.
Young girls have so many intimacies-
fiirtations Oh, is it not possible can
not hope for that"
"Yes,n she said with sweet gravity.
"You are the first-the only Que | ever
had have lived such lonely, lonely
life; l have been kept a child by my
mother, in utter seclusion. She is wild
ow, you know"
/ mo, I did not know. / know nothing
of your past life. or of you. except that
that" He stopped. swallowing once or
twice as if choking: Then he gently
moved her mantle aside, and sat down at
her side. Il am afraid. he said at last,
''that when you see more OF the world
will appear too-too old to be your
friend"
You do not seem old to me. How
could you ?" she murmured. 1--WE live
so solitary life in the country, that |
really have seen no man except the old
clergyman and Major Hooper, and then
you. II seemed natural that you should
be my friend !? You will be my friend p
looking with start of alarm.
The moon shone on her face.
He did not speak; her warm breath
reached his cheek. He found her soft
hand, which was hid under the mantle.
~ Laura, he said.
~ They were both silent Then his head
slowly bent closer; her breath came hot
and quick, and their lips met.
There was sudden crash behind them
of broken bough. Miss Voysey gave
little shrek. ut is a squirrel doubtless"
said John WEIGH, rising quickly. but it
is growing late. Shall we 60 home?'
"a She rose more slowly, and walked be-
side him. He was strangely silent, and
did not offer her his arm. Was the first
taste Of the wine bitter or too sweet He
parted from her, almost without word,
! at Major Hoopers' door.
kEA8ss8Ff CHAPTER III.
John WEIGH rose haggard and pale the
next morning. All day mad intoxication
came upon him at times as drunkard
who must drain the just tasted cup or die.
Then there were times when he ragged at
Winny's absence, and felt that if she were
i at home he would waken into daylight out
of bad dream.
sa Major Hooper met him just at nghtfall,
and told him Miss Voysey had gone home
suddenly summoned by her mother
Then he painted her in his feverish Wis.,
ions, framed in a lonely cottage. very
hermitage, overgrown by roses in deep
forest, with no companions but her moth
er, pure, sanity woman.
Two days afterwards he received a note
from his wife. II have left town and TAX
ell lodging in country inn," she said.
Twill you come and spend Sunday with
Jenny and me ?" giving minute direc-
lions how to find her.
Sunday, and his little girl. and his wife
John Welch's face suddenly lghtened,
and he drove the clerks about energetcal-
ly to make time for him to 60.
Early Saturday morning she got out OF
a Jersey wagon at the door OF a tawdry
looking house on the roadside wagon
stand, before which cart, one or two
buggies. driven by jaunty young fellows,
had stepped. "It is very depot for heat.
and flies and vulgarity." he said to him.
self, making his way through the bar,
where a red-faced young man was pour
b ing applejack, to six by twelve parlor,
gay with red and green carpet and striped
paper. and dozen colored photographs
suspended by window cord. What can
have possessed Winifred to come to such
place? Is Mrs. Welch here p he asked
aloud, OF blowsy old woman in Il black
dress. much the worse for gravy drippings
and snuff
"Yes. She has walked out to the
woods; you are Mr.. Welch. l SUPPOSED"
John bowed. There was something
familiar in her face: familiar as though
lovely dream had been converted into
frightful nightmare.
II am Mrs. Voysey. Laury?" scream.
ing up the stairs. MY daughter aud
YOU is old friends, Mrs. Welch tells me-"