Buchanan County bulletin. [volume] (Independence, Iowa) 1869-1891, 1878-05-31
thing unpleasant to tell you, Clelia, and
[ hope you will listen patiently"

L hope you will listen patiently"
70, it is about money, of course" she
cried, petulantly, as she impatiently
tapped her dainty boot upon the pale
green carpet strewn with woven roses
like drops of blood.
Yes" he said, very gravely, 1T is
about money, and | wish to tell you
that mine is gone to the last dollar.
am man broken in health and heart
and fortune, and suspected of gross dis
honesty. This house is sold, and my
personal property soon will be. | have
nothing left-Nothing."
His broken voice had the sound of a
wall as he uttered that last pathetic
word. Not CLEAN of pity softened the
hard, handsome face of the woman be-
fore him. For moment she sat haugh-
ty and silent; then the angry blood
burned redly in her cheeks, and strange
cold light sparkled in her sullen, slum-
berous eyes.
You wish me to understand that |
am the wife of poor and dishonored
bankrupt" she observed, and each chill
ing word stabbed his heart like sharp
est steel. 81 will never forgive you
l will never forgive yon," repeated the
woman who had tempted and beguiled
and maddened and destroyed him.
And he thought of her whom he had
wronged by falsehood and disloyalty
whom he had repudiated and forsaken;
he thought of Helen as he saw her last,
standing injured and heart-broken be-
fore him, and yet crying to him out of
the depths of her outraged love, II for
,girc you, Stephen"
For the first time he turned upon
Clelia look Of such scorn and anger
and bitterness that she quailed and
trembled before it.
" For what will you never forgive me,
MADAME" he asked, sternly. Because
l have been weak enough to let you
ruin me? Because | have allowed you
to spend my fortune in folly? You have
been to me the bitterest curse that ever
poisoned and blackened the life of man.
For the kisses of your false lips I have
lost all-honor, riches, usefulness, hap
piness. And yet you dare reproach me!
You! who care less for me than for the
jewels you wear"
Certainly" she returned, with cru
el, mocking laugh; I supposed that you
had guessed the truth long ago"
You never loved me?' he demanded
hoarsely; 1T was my wealth for which
you cared. Is that what you mean,
MADAME"
Precisely 50" she replied, with icy
calmness.
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 wo-
man whose fascinations had been his
bane, he arose and left her.
Sometime after, sitting in his cham
Der 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' guests were
arriving. Bye-and-bye he heard the pre-
luding tinkle of the grand piano, then a
Strauss waltz was executed so finely
that he listened, and for moment for
got half his misery. Then there was a
pause, followed by a sweet voice sing
ing. 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 a simple ballad that told Of
tinkling brooks and whispering leaves
4 nd l.,
/ ing hearts. Often in the old dead days
he had sung 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 Helen's voice was fresh and ringing
and that of this singer was rich and
passion-haunted, telling of spirit
which had learned the gamut of love
and suffering.
His brain whirled and his heart thrill
ed. Why should he think of Helen,
who was forever lost to him? And why
should anyone sing Helens songs in
voice such as Helen's might be now af-
ter years of careful culture?
Just then note was brought to him
by servant As he glanced at it the
hot blood flushed his face. Helen was
the singer and she was waiting for him
in the conservatory
You will pardon me for coming
here" she wrote; 1T 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 names"
Poor heart! poor broken heart! true
to the last!' he murmered, and two
great tears rolled down and smirched
the note which he held with quivering
fingers
He went to the conservatory. By the
fountain, beside tall Egyptian figure,
he saw grand figure in dead-black
robes, and a noble head with single
, white flower in the golden hair
Why are you here Helen?' he ask
ed kindly.
For moment she looked at him, her
dusky eyes full of trouble and wistful
surprise. She could have flung herself
down among the flowers and sobbed
aloud her grief, when she saw the sad
change those few years had wrought up
on the handsome, spirited man she had
so dearly loved. But she answered him
with quiet gentleness.
l have come to save you, Stephen
she said.
You?' he returned, in troubled
whisper.
Yes, Stephen" she REPLIED "for the
love you once bore me, for the sake of
the happy days, | have come to befriend
you, for before tomorrow sun goes
down there will not be another in all
this great city to defend or to help
you.
He was too troubled to wonder how
she knew so intimately of his misfor-
tunes and Of the disgraceful calamity
that threatened him, and he turned
fearful glance toward the entrance seen
across the parlor, where Clelia, in her
rubies and amber silk, stood among her
guests with laugh on her lips.
"You have been suspected of mon
strous fraud, went on Helen, sadly;
for many weeks your accusers have
been searching for proof against you.
They have obtained sufficient to justify
your arrest. You may be imprisoned
within the hour. | could not live and
know that you were suffering such open
shame For the sake Of our dear child,
| implOre you to do as | shall advise