Smyrna times., 1877-08-01

vine at the window, swan on golden air
into the rich room where l sat, and wavered
from object to object. He rested at last on
the frame of my husbands portrait Just
then heard Roscoe whistling lightly as he
ran up stairs, and in moment he entered
the room, his hand full of pond-lilies.
See, here" said Roscoe.
He pulled off his straw hat, and the cur
ling hair about his white forhead was
literally dripping with perspiration.
"See how wilted l am, hurrying home
through the heat to save your lillies," he
laughed.
brought him some cool water to bathe
his face, laid out some fresh clothing, and
went away to see if dinner was ready.
Thus l took up again the present.
Another year went by. l was surrounded
by comfort; tendcrly cared for. l re-
solved not to unlock the rosewood cabinet
again.
was reading in the portico, one June
morning, while Melisse, the nurse, was
leading little Lyle along the garden walks,
when a carriage came whirling up the
drive.
sprang up, fearing something had hap
pened to my husband. But, by the time |
reached the open halldoor, a lady, was
coming up the steps from the carriage
She was very young, richly robed, and in
stantly addressed me:
Are you not my brother Roscoe's wifc?',
she asked. " | am his sister Ora, from New
| Orleans"
| don't remember how | welcomed her,
but I threw open the drawing room door,
and she entered and dropped into a seat
| Where is Roscoe? IL have come to
stay with you," she said, her face pale as
ashes.
| took a vague alarm at her appearance
but endeavored to speek as usual.
You are tired-ill. Lay off your wraps
and let me get you glass of wine"
| went across the hall to the china
closet. When I came back she lay in a
dead faint upon the floor.
Roscoe had gone out of town and did not
return until evening. l had Ora taken to a
room next to mine and put to bed She
was a mere delicate child when undressed,
not more than seventeen years old.
"Oh, how good you are--how good you
are ~ she said, with heartrending pathos,
as ! bathed her temples and rubbed her
delicate limbs. / had studied medicine a
little with my father, and knew she was
close upon fever. At length she lay
warm and quiet, and soon fell asleep
sat up until eleven o'clock, waiting for
Roscoe. At length heard his step in the
hall. / hurried to meet him.
He looked astonished at hearing my
news. Why, what does it mean2'' he
asked.
The next morning Ora was in burning
feyer. She talked inchoherently--shed did
not know me. She lay very i'll for three
weeks.
Poor girl at one time it seemed certain
that she would die, but we kept her.
AT last her first act of consciousness was
to kiss me, and murmur;
al love your
AT last she could sit up and talk little.
And then she told Roscoe and me her
story.
L will not repeat it here. 1t was tale
too sickening of human passion inflamed
by liquor; of mans tyranny; Of woman's
weakness. Her husband was false to her
and his manhood. She clung to him,
pleading; he knocked her senseless at his
feet. And, before that she had borne-oh,
pitiful heavens, so much
"He has killed my love for him." she
said, white and shuddering. 81 am afraid
of him / have horror of him Let me
stay here Here, he will not find me.
Oh, Roscoe-Constance let me stay with
your
We soothed her-promised earnestly that
she should stay, protected, beloved by us
for the conversation was most hurtful to
her, and nearly brought on relapse of her
fever.
And Roscoe wrote to his aunt, Mrs.
Bompten of New Orleans, asking further
particulars of Ora's story, and announcing
his determination to protect her against
her husband. To which Mrs. Brompton
replied as follows:
al am glad Ora is with you. Her mar.
riage has certainly turned out most
dreadful affair. Her husband was wealthy,
moved in the best circles here, but blame
myself that l did not inform myself con-
cerning his principles. He is how avowed
to have none-rather he possesses the worst.
The scandal is dying down here, but if Ora
wishes to remain with you for the present
it will be better than returning to New
Orleans. Ny love to her.
AUGUSTA BRosPToN."
So / found what never had--a sister
and | think | made her as happy as she
could possibly be after the terrible blight
upon her youth. She found fund Of
comfort in little Lyle, who was very fond Of
her, calling her Lolo," in his soft, lisping
accents. She was most unselfish and sym.
pathetic in disposition, and this latter trait
won from me, at least, confidence.
She sat with me, sewing, one day, in my
, N 4. r..