Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1876-04-21
A wIFE's JEALOUSY.

"What were you reading when I cam
upon you just now?" Mrs. Crawford s.ske
her husband. "You looked very much in
terested
MI. Crawford looked at it oddly.
Really. don't know he said, twas
reading anything? ?"
"I'm sure Pm not inquisitive, " said Mrs
Crawford, and sat down to the coffee url
with little fiounce; ''only always shov
you my letters, William"
"I've only received one letter this morn
ing" said Mr.. Crawford. elf you'd like
to share the reading Of it. you cam
He tossed her an envelope, within which
lay a little folded paper-the butchers
monthly account.
Mrs. Crawford poked the bill back into
it's envelope. It was yellow one. That
which she had seen her husband reading
had, she felt sure, delicate pink tinge.
In all her married life Mrs. Crawford
had never felt a suspicion of her husband
before, but there was no chat over the
breakfast table that morning. The chill
dren were neglected and grew fretful: the
mother scolded them. The father gave no
good-by kiss to his wife and when, her
early morning duties were over and the
children off to school, Mrs. Crawford as
cended to the little sitting room, she car
ried as wretched a heart thither as could
well beat in any woman's breast.
"But it was pale pink note, and a Ia
dy's hand" said Mrs. Crawford to herself;
"and he hid it from me-" The horror she
felt at opening his desk secretly, and as a
burglar might, quietly passed way. She
wiped her eyes with her handkerchief, and
plunged into certain box, which was re-
ceptable for odds and ends. From thence
she brought forth a jingling chain, with
keys strung upon it, little and big, iron
and brass, new and rusty keys of closets,
and drawers, and trunks, and boxes keys
her grandmother had for her storeroom !;
keys that belonged to her own dolls bu-
reau. Gathering them up in her hands,
she sat down before the desk, and began
trying one after another in the lock. At
the lid, and her eyes, red with tears, saw
the interior of the desk. There was book
one her husband had been reading the
night before, from the edge of which pro-
truded something pink. Mrs. Crawford
bounced upon it with a low cry. 1t was
a little envelope from it she tore a note
This was what she read:
my Dear William I've longed to see
you, all day. Be sure that you come to-
night. With a kiss, yours, always"
Mrs. Crawford gave little scream, but
she thought of the servants and restrained
herself. White as death she put the note
back in the book, locked the desk, and
dropped the great chain of keys into his
box. Then she sat in her rocking chair,
and swayed herself backward and forward
and asked herself what she should do
What, indeed! Fifteen years she had been
married and all that while she had been so
happy. And now trouble worse than death
had come. There was no explaining this
away. Her husband had no sisters, no
mother, no female friend or relative who
could write such thing.
No, there was no explanation but this
dreadful one-he had been making love to
some one. Perhaps he had even two wives.
When men 3egin to be mad, no one could
tell where they would stop.
When her husband came home he had no
suspicion of the discovery she had made.
He looked at her much as usual, and he
spoke first.
"What's the matter, En- ? The children
are not threatened with the smallpox"
eff they were dead with it, William, and
l, too, should be glad," said the wife,
81 had rather be dead than feel as T feel
tonight
''My dear, I never saw you in this way
before" he said. care you i'll Pm afraid
you are.'
He came to her side and bent over her.
She repulsed him. Then he, astonished
and angry, stood looking at her.
"What am to understand from this ?n
he said.
.'You keoav, William" she answered.
"Look into your heart and ask yourself.
All! William have been true wife to
you, and good mother to your children
for fifteen years, and now you turn from
me to some younger and prettier woman.
You see I know all. William. That note
excited my suspicion this morning. know
women don't reason things out like men
they know the truth by instinct. I opened
tho To huI I,
den inside the book of poems, and don't
know who she is, and don't care; but
you love another woman"
Still the husband stood looking at his
wife-the strangest look. He did not ap-
proach her, nor did he answer her by any
word. After awhile he said softly, and
quite to himself.
''The little pink note in the book i
Well! to be sure yes, yes, and she is jeal-
ous.s' =.
"Jealous!" cried poor Mrs. Crawford
''That's a light word to me, and you use it
lightly. Is it nothing that you have been
so false to me that you
"Emma, you make your accusations very
coolly. Why do you declare that l have
been false to you ?''
A little ray of hope shot into the wife's
heart.
cat least you must have made love to
a woman before she could write so to
you"
He shook his head softly.
eyes. I confess that" he said.
"This is more than [ can BEAR" sobbed
the wife. II am an idiot to talk to you ;
but you must know my resolution. We
must part. Papa will take me home. I
will 60 to him with my children, and you
you can go to her, whoever she is. I
will not share the heart that once was all