The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1878-02-08

ruisaoic uPoi ehiShs hoi 4uoo"hhV ouSs"'S
D.. f.r..r
The days, the weeks fly by. Novem
Der has come with her fearful face
Madame Gustave is back in Paris, sur
rounded with every luxury that wealth
can obtain, yet she is not happy. She has
learned many bitter lesson in the
short time she has been wife. She has
learned that there are women of whom
but glance is pollution, the
society of whom is preferred
by her husband. She has learned
that to live with man you must love
not loathe him; that to be an unloved
wife is worse than death. There was
between herself and husbanda mountain
of ice which neither could surmount.
Their individuality was perfect. Could
they ever become one? She had seen
her husband one day, when she was rid
ing alone in her little brougham. He
had passed her in the carriage of gay
young actress. He was laughing and
talking, and did not see her as she shrank
back out of sight, with feeling of pain
she could not fathom. She had grown
to be mere shadow of her former self.
The worm of discomfort was gnawing at
her heart. With feeling of horror she
thought she loved and was not beloved.
She tried to make herself agreeable to
her husband, but there was some great
rock in the path "Oh, why was l
born!" she cried.
One evening she said to him, You
are so seldom at home, that / see nothing
of you you must be very busy" He
was putting ON his great-coat to go out
He turned around, and look. of anguish
came over his face. He made move
ment with his arms as though he would
embrace her, but they dropped to his
side. He said goodnight" and hurried
away.
Far from his young wife he flies,
through the many winding streets,
towards the boulevards. He is sorely
troubled, and his handsome young face is
very cloudy. His life does not lie in a
path of roses. He signs every now and
then, and peers into the mass of people
as though in search of some one; finally
he enters brilliantly lighted cafe and
glancing around he goes hurriedly to a
small table where sits a gentleman alone,
by whom, after warm greeting, he takes
a chair.
az am sadly in need of friendly advice.
Paul." he commences. My funds are
low, and my last book having been seized
by the government. will, of course, net
bring me any profits" "My wife's
fortune has gone in unlucky speculations
at the BourSe. must pay the sum
of 5000 francs, and l haven't actually
the money to pay it. Debt stares me
in the face. The only thing left for such
as is exile. Oh God, what shall do?"
$50 to America" said his friend
coolly, as he raised glass of wine to his
lips; you can remain there till it has
all blown over"
But my wife! " cried Gustave huskily,
60 can not take her!"
"She will go, perhaps"
ooh no, She would never consent;
she would go to her fathers. Oh
heavens!" he exclaimed, it is bitter
hour for me-"
Take my advice, my friend" said
Paul, "go home to your wife, and make
a clean breast of the whole affair; tell
her your plans, and she will aid you"
ooh no! it would do no good" re-
piled Gustave, adding bitterly, "you
don't know my WIFE
"But after a moments thought he
said, with a careless recklessness, as his
face grew paler, L believe / will GO"
and shaking hands with Paul, ere he had
time to reply, he was gone-gone out once
more into the darkness of the streets,
where the wind sang softly around the
corners, and the crowds went swiftly by.
He stood still gazing up into the dreary
blackness, and said vehemently Z" know
what is best to do; I'll end all this with
my life!." and plunging off, in the OPP
posite direction from his house, he was
enguked in the nights mist.
In the meantime his young wife threw
herself into a chair, and pressing her
hands tightly to her head, cried: ~ do
not understand; l have failed to keep
him by my side; he loathes me. Oh,
/ wish that / was dead!
o, Lucille! Poor child, you wish that
you were dead, not knowing how near
death is; he is lowering about you con-
stantly! You cried for death, and far
away God heard that cry; and lit is an
swered, and the angels record it in the
Golden Book"
Thus she sat thinking of her husband.
Each moment she felt herself growing
weaker and weaker. All was silent in
the house. The clock of st. Augustine's
pealed out midnight. She rose and
paced up and down the room, wonder
ing why he did not come. Could it be
possible that anything had happened?
How could she live without him; he had
grown so dear to her? Did he still feel
indifferently toward her? Oh, if she
could but win his love! How had she
failed? Why did he not understand her?
She had been told that she was beauti-
full. Did he think her plain? The half
hour struck; she moaned and said
slowly:
"He is always home by midnight. 1t
is strange he is so late tonight"
She lighted her candle, and passed
into her bedroom, commencing slowly to
disrobe. Then, after unbraiding her
long, black hair, she laid down upon her
bed, leaving the candle lighted. She
tried to read novel, but could not; her
thoughts wandered, the hero became her
husband, the heroine herself. She count
ed and recounted the figures on the wall
At. Al