Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1877-02-02

swell, then, of curse I was awfullyc GU
up. | was wild. l got a six shooter tt
kill you and the other.''
Il wish you had said she. She didn'
wish anything Of the kind.
II am very glad | didn't, then. [ drop
ped the six shooter and took to the moping
and crying line"
"Poor Ephraim !"
ooh, yes! 1 went through allthe changes
and ended as other men do"
"And how is tsat?"
"Why, by getting over it,"
"What! You have got over it 7"
Lord, yes long ago!"
ooh, indeed !" said she, bitterly. Then
with sly ilcredulity "How is it you have
never married 2"
"Well, I'll tell you. When I found that
money was everything with you girls.
calculated to go in for money too. So,
specialized, like - the other, and made
money. But when I had once begun to
taste money making, somehow l left off
troubling about women. And, besides, /
know a great many people, and | look
coolly on, and what [ see in every house
has set me against marriage. Most of my
married friends envy me. and say SO. l
don't envy any of them, and don't pretend
to. Marriage! it is q bad institution.
You have got clear of it, [ hear. All the
better for you. I mean to take a shorter
road-I won't ever get into it,"
This churl, then, who had drowned hot
passion in the wave of time, and, instead
Of nursing a passion for her all his days,
had been hugging celibacy as mans choic-
est treasure, asks her coolly if there was
anything he could do for her. Could he be
of service in finding out investments, ETC..
OF could he place either of the boys in the
ROAD to wealth Instead of hating these
poor children like IL man, he seemed all
the more inclined to serve them after their
absent parent had secured him the sweets
of celibacy.
self-restraint to thank him, though very
coldly, and to postpone all discussion Of
that kind to q future time. Then he shook
hands with her and left her.
She was wounded to the core. 1t would
have been very hard to wound her heart as
deeply as this interview wounded her pride.
She sat down and shed tears of NORTH
cation.
She was aroused from that condition by
a letter in a well-known hand. She open
ed it., all in a futter:
my DEAR SoPHY-You are a nice wife,
you are! Here l have been Shaving my life
out for you, aud shipwrecked, and nearly
dead with a fever: and coming home rich
again, and [ asked you just to come from
Chicago to New York to meet me, that
have come all the way from China and
San Francisco, and it is too much trouble.
Did you ever hear of Lunham's dog thai
bark ? 1t is very disheartening to a poor
fellow that has played a mans part for
you and the children. Now be a good gill,
and meet me at Chicago Tomorrow evens
ing at six PM. For if you don't, ty
thunder! III take the children and ab-
squatulate with them to Paris, or some>
where. [ find the drafts on New York l
sent from China, have never been present.
ed Reckon by that you never got them.
Has that raised your dander? Well, it is
not my FAULT 50 put On your bonnet and
come and meet
'Your Affect nnate husband,
NAT CLARKE.
II sent my first letter to your fathers
house. I send this to your friend, Mrs.
X"
Mrs. Clarke read this in such a tumult
of emotions that her mind could not settle
a moment On n thing. But when she
had read it. the blood in her beating veins
begun to run cold.
What on earth could she do ? Fall to
the ground between two stools ? No; that
was a mans trick-and she was a woman,
every inch.
She had not any time to lose, so she
came to a rapid conclusion. Her acts will
explain better than comments. She Dress
ed, packed up one box, drove to the branch
station and got to Chicago. She bought
an exquisite bonnet, took private apart
ments at a hotel, and employed an intelli>
gent person to wait at the station for her
husband, and call out his name, and give
him a card on which was written:
Mrs Jonathan Clarke.
sat the x Hotel"
This done, she gave her mind entirely to
the decoration of her person.
The ancients, when they had done any>
thing wrong and wanted to be forgiven,
used to approach their judges with DISNEY
elled hair and shabby clothes sOrd5dis Ues-
tabus.
This pool, shallow woman, unenlighten-
ed by the wisdom OF the ancients, thought
the nicer a woman looked the likelier a
man would be to forgive her, no matter
what. So she put on her best silk dress,
and her new French hat bought on pur~
pose, and made her hair very neat, and
gave her face q wash and a rub that added
color. She did not rouge, because she cal
culated she would have to cry before the
end of the play, and crying hard over
rouge makes channels.
When she Was as nice as she could be,
she sat down to wait for her diUorce; she
might be compared to a fair spider which
had spread her web to catch a wasp, but is
sorely afraid that, when he does come, he
will dash it all to ribbons.
At last there was a murmur on the
stairs then a loud, hearty voice; then a
blow at the door-you could not call it a
tap-and in burst Jonathan Clarke, brown
as a berry, beard a foot long, genial and
loud, open heart, California manners.
AT sight Of her he gave a hearty "Ah!
and came at her with d rush to clasp her