The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1877-05-24
-HFllA .
A Living Lie.

This very strange story is. told as an
apologize for Anna Dickinson's benefit by
writer in the Now York World; for that
purpose it has. pc, point, but it will do by
itself. It is u painter who tells; the tale /:
II havc-loved but one woman in my
life" he said: "Her beauty and her char
acter were all my dreams had promised
me. With her passed five years of per-
feet happiness, full of quiet joys. lowe
her much fYy celebrity ofto: day; for at
came in rapid gusts. She is now dead
and died loving me.
"Yet," the fond look vanishing and the
lines of his mouth growing hard and rigid
"yet never think of her: without anger.
II try to recall her as I saw her for
those five years, if l seek to give form to
the deliciqelsssvision my eyes summon up,
it is only to repeat once more to myself
that l hate her.
She told me the story Of her life soon
after first met her. She had been mar
ried when very young to prohigate, who
had spent her fortune and brought his
disolute hfs to close in Italy. Her par
cnts we're dead, but she had IN uncle liv-
ing at a country place not far from Al
bany, old and occupying a high social
position, and also married sister living
little way up the Hudson. The sister
was the only member of the family with
whom she had any relations, tor her hus-
bands wildncss had cstranged her from
the rest. Since his death She had sup
ported herself by giving lessons in music
and painting in rich houses. All this and
much more, she told me, supplcmenting
it with infinite detail
married her questioning nothing. She
begged mo to ALLOW her to continue the
profession She had chosen. There was
nothing irksome in it, she said; all hcl
pupils daughters of bankers are wealthy
people, loved and respected her; and
often she showed bracelet or ring they
had given her. Indeed, by this means
she was able to dress farmorc richly than
my scanty income otherwise would have
allowed her. On Sundays she went in
variably to see her sister, returning al
night with long stories of the children
health and incidents of the visit and a
thousand little trifes
One night she fell i'll, and l learned
after while from the doctor that her ill.
ness was incurable. | was wild with
grief. But before all things l deter.
mined torcconcile her with her family
I telegraphcd to the sister, and took the
first train that would carry me to the un-
cle's country scat.
''Your niece is dying" l said quickly
as soon as was introduced into the pres
cnce Of venerable old gentleman. my
niece" he replied in establishment. ii
have no niece
/ fastened to tell him who l was, pray
ing him to forget his resentment and tc
come.with me; but the more urgent be.
came the more astonished he seemed, al
ways persisting in his denial; and at last
he showed me to the door, thinking was
practical joker.
With strange presentimcnt of i'll upon
me l fastened back intending to go to
the house where my wife had given les
sons. Nobody in any one of them had
ever heard her name. I rushed home
and there found a telegram from her sis.
ter. She had no sort Of knowledge of my
wife. .'~~
When I.entered the room of the dying
woman she looked ut me wearily from
the bed. She was wasted to Il shadow
But / burst out in my rage.
"You have never given lessons. You
have no family. have been everywhere,
and no one knows you. Where did you
get the money from, the jewels, the
dresses:'
She looked ut me once more, this time
with h look Of terrible sadness and that
was all.