The Hickman courier., 1878-06-14

SnJJerlng coach, and with tagging feet
went up the granite steps The hand
some parlors were blaze of light. The
heavy oder of costly cut flowers filled the
air. Ia the center OF the room stood
Clelia, her supple, rounded figure clothed
in amber silk and cloudy lace, hel
naughty lips red as the priceless rubie.
on her arms and bosom, or the red rose
fastened in the snaky coils Of her black
hair. \ heavy sigh parted his pale lips
as he looked at her.
y am sorry that you are to give s
soiree tonight, Clelia," he said, gently
drawing her to tete-s-tete upholstered
in psle blue satin.
Why?" she inquired, for once inn
pressed by the dumb misery Of the pale
face that had grown 40 aged and thin
during the lew past weeks.
" For many reasons," he responded
with painful hesitation. "I have some
thing unpleasant to tell you, Clelis, and
hope you viii listen patiently"
- 9, il is about money, OF course, sht
cried, petulantly, as she impatiently tsp
ped her dainty boot upon the pale-greer
carpet strewn with woven roses ike
drops OF blood
Yes" he said very gravely, "it is
about money, andI wish TO tell you that
mine is gone to the last dollar an a
man broken in health and heart and
: fortune, and suspected of gross dishonesty.
This heuse Is sold, and my personal pro-
perty soon viii be. I have nothing left
80 nothing"
His broken voice had the sound OF :
wall as he uttered that last pathetic
word, Not glesm OF pity softened the
hard, handsome face OF the woman before
him. For moment he sat naughty and
silent; then the angry blood burned
redly in her cheeks, and strange cold
light sparkled in her sullen, slum mberous
eyes.
"YOu wish me 70 understand that I
am the wife OF 4 poor and dishsnored
bankrupt, she observed, and each chill
ing word stabbed his heart like shsrpest
Steel. Il viii never forgivsyou. I will
never forgive you" repeated the woman
who had tempted and beguiled and mad
dened and destroyed him.
And ne thought of her whom he had
wronged by tslsehood and disloyslty,
whom he had repudiated and foraker.
He thought Of Helen IS he saw her lsst,
standing injured and he2rt-bToken be-
fore him, snd yet crying 20 him out of
the depths OF her outraged love, 81 for
give you, Stephen"
For the first time he turned upon
Clelia a look OF such scorn and anger and
bitterness that she quailed before it.
For what Will you never forgive me,
madame ?" he asked, sternIy. Because
have been weak enbugh to let you
ruin me? Because 1 have allowed you
TO waste my fortune in folly? You
have been to me the bitte1est curse that
ever poisoned and blackaned the life Of
man. For the kisses of your false lips
have lost all-honor, riches, usefulness,
happiness. And yet you dare reProach
me-you, who care less for me than for
the jewels you wear"
Certainly" she returned, with
cruel, mockiDg laugh; l supposed that
you had guessed the truth long ago"
8. You never loved mes" he demanded
hosrseIy; s. it was my wealth FOR which
you cared. Is that what you meant"
d" Precisely 50. she replied, with icy
calmDess
Stephen Darrell said no more. He
had drained the cup to the last drop,
and the lees were very, very bitter.
Without another glance toward the
woman whose destinations had been
his bane, lie arose and left her.
Some time after, sitting in his chamber,
MORE miserable and desolate than he
had ever been in his life before, he
heard the roll Of carriage wheels, and
the soft, murmurous confusion of many
voices told him that Clelia's guests were
arriving. Bye-and-bye he heard the
preluding tinkle of the grand piano,
then a Strauss waits was executed se
finely that he listened, and for a mo-
ment forgot half his misery. Then
there was a pause followed by sweet
voice singing. As the first note Of that
rich, deep voice foated up to him he
sprang to his feet.
Like the monk of old, who followed a
bird song for years thinking them but
hours, and who returned to find the very
earth changed, he listened, marveling if
he heard terrestrial melody or the music
of heaven.
But the song that Stephen Darrell
heard was simple ballad that told of
tinkling brooks and whispering leaves
and sun-kissed flowers and happy trust
ing hearts. Often IN the old days be
had supg that ballad with Helen when
she was an artless, passionate hearted
child, who believed in him as she did in
the religion of her fathers. But Heleu's
voice was fresh and ringing, and that OF
this singer was rich and passion
haunted, telling of 4 epirit which had
learned the gamut of love and suffering.
His brain whirled and his heart
thrilled. Why shsuld he think of Helen.
who was forever lost to him? And why
should any one sing Helen's song in a
voice such as Helen's might be now after
years of careful culture?
Just then a note was brought to him
by a servant. As he glanced at it the
hot blood flushed his haggard face.
Helen was the singer, and she was wait
ing for him in the conservatory.
you viii pardon me Tor coming
here she wrote; +" it is for your own
sake wish to speak with you. came
with an invited guest, and as Dulcie de
Leon, the prima donna, no one recog.
nizes me as one who was once known by
another name"
" Poor heart! poor, broken heartp'
true TO the last he murmured. and
two great tears rolled down and smirohed
the note he held with quivering fingers.
He went TO the conservatory. By
the fountain, beside tall Egyptian ily.
he saw grand figure in dead black
robes, and noble head with single