The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1876-11-02

not always on her, his thoughts follow
ing her. She could go where she pleased
now, and he asked no questions. She
could employ her time to suit herself,
and he had neither comment nor criti-
cism to offer. But gradually she began
to realize that she had lost something |
which was not easily to be replaced.
May Harriott had regarded her hus-
bands love as one of the fixed polar
facts of her existence, and cold chill
crept over her heart when she fully per-
ceived that it was somehow slipping
away from her.
Frederick" she said one evening,
sitting opposite to her husband, shave
1 offended youp''
He glanced carelessly up from his
book.
"Offended me, May? Why, what a
ridiculous idea. OF course you haven't
offended me.''
ell thought your manner was
somewhat different of late," faltered
the young wife, bending her head closer
over her embroidery.
"One can't keep up the honeymoon
gloss forever" said the banker, indif-
ferently.
Life is full of antitheses; and love is
the strangest completely in life. For,
as May Harriott grew strengthened in
the idea that her husband was ceasing
to adore her after the old idolatrous
fashion, she began to fall in love with
the one she had married for money.
Frederick Harriott was not young,
but he was in the prime of middle age.
He was not boyishly handsome like the
wax heads May had seen in the bar
ber's show-windows, but he had the
port and mien of a prince. All women
are prone to hero-worship, and our lit
tie May was nc exception to the ordina-
ry rule. For the first time in her life
she was falling in love-and with her
own husband.
A few weeks only had elapsed when
crisis in the banking business rendered
it imperatively necessary that Mr.. Har-
riott should 60 to Vienna for two or
three months. Poor May looked aghast
as her husband mentioned his intentions
to her, in the same cool, matter-of-fact
way in which he might have criticised
the weather.
"Going to Vienna?" she gasped.
"Oh, Frederick"
"My dear child, it is a mere bagatelle
of journey! One doesn't mind travel
nowadays. l shall not be later than
November in returning"
Butt may go with YOUR
GO You! My dear, don't think of it.
My travel will necessarily be too rapid
to think Of encumbering myself with a
lady companion. l must go and come
with the greatest speed"
May said nothing more, but there
was a blur before her eyes, sickening
sensation of despair at her heart. He
cared no more for the society which had
been dear to him once. Oh! what had
she done to forfeit the love that had
once been poured out so fondly on her
life?
1t was rainy June twilight when the
banker, wrapped in a dreadnaught
coat, and with his traveling-ca pulled
down over his eyes, paced up and down
the deck of the steamer Galatea, heed
less of all the tumult of weighing
anchor. Through the misty dusk he
tried vainly to catch the ghostly out
lines of the city spires-the city that
held his young wife.
ssShe will be happy enough without
me-" he told himself, bitterly. "She
has her mother and sister with her.
She babe me adieu without a tear, and
it may be that my continued absence
will teach her to think less coldly of me.
Dear little May-sweet spring blossom
my prayers may reach you, if my love
can not!''
And, as the steamer plowed her way
onward, and the darkness deepened,
Frederick Harriott went below.
70 his infinite surprise, the state
room he had engaged for his own be-
half and use was not empty. A lady
sat there, with vailed face and dropping
head. Frederick Harriott paused in
surprise the figure rose up, and throw
ing aside its vail. revealed the blue,
starry eyes and pale cheeks of May her
telf!
"Oh, Frederick, pardon mel" she
sobbed, throwing herself into his arms,
"but l .coald not let you go alone!
love you, Frederick. I can not live
without you! When I thought of your
being alone, perhaps i'll, in strange
land, Thought ! should lose my senses