Western sentinel. [volume] (Winston [i.e. Winston-Salem], N.C.) 1856-1886, 1879-09-25
A Foolish Secret.

81 know your income is not large
Gerald, and am quite as poor a
yourself; but your family IS as ole
and honorable AS my own, anc
fortune comes sooner or later to tht
persistent worker who is Away
conscientious and nobly ambitious
in chosen vocation. Had YOU
proud name ever been disgraced by
the plebeian transgressions of com
mon people my answer would bt
different, tor | have been taught t.
respect worth and culture moro
than the wealth that any cunning
knave can win by questionable
speculation"
This was the substance of wha
aristocratic Isabel Ashley said te
Gerald Whitney the day before she
became his wife. The two hac
been discussing many things, anG
among them the old saying thai
Philadelphia most respects blue
blood, New York bullion, anc
Boston brains.
Isabel Ashley-a slim, stately
brunette, with pale, patrician feat
ures and perfect manners, dis
tinguished by high-bred rcpose-
had been born and educated in the
Quaker City, and thoroughly be-
lieved in all the prejudices of her
exclusive caste. Had she known
that single isolated sinner had
eyer existed in the family of hrI
bctrothed husband she would have
given him up in sorrow certainly,
and yet with scorn. AS it was she
married him, and went with him to
her pretty home in New York,
where they lived very happily for =
year or more, during which time
Gerald Whitney had prospered in
all pecuniary ventures, and had also
become the sole heir Of an exceed
ingly rich relative.
Isabel Whitney loved her hus-
band dearly-so very dearly that
jealousy-that mournful, bitter com
panion of affection--often made a
momentary unpleasantness in their
wedding life.
Returning home one day from a
long drive, they passed through a
narrow street fanked with great
silantus trees, and agaist the red
brick walls of the old Dutch houses
the "tree Of Heaven" waved many
a heavy plume Of pale yellow and
Oriental crimson.
Suddenly, amid the chirping and
~rangling Of the sparrows, through
all the rustling and the whispering
of the soft Summer wind, there
came down to them a sweet, shrill
voice, calling:
"Gcrald, oh, Gerald 20
Both looked up quickly.
In one OF the uppermost windows
of tho Oldest and least attractive
house Of all stood a woman, young
and beautiful as the spirit of a
dream. Her eager, most alluring
face was colcress as sepulchral
marble, and her large, dark eyes
glittered through the tangle OF
golden hair that tell in thick curls
over her bosom.
Gerald Whitney gave her and
the quaint old house one keen.
startled glance, and then, touching
his horse with the whip, drove on
rapidly.
"Who is that lady 2" inquired
Isabel, wondering why her hus-
bands handsome face had become
So oddly flushed and agitated.
"What lady, dear ?' he returned
in forced. unnatural voice.
"The pale lady at the window ,
said Isabel, impatienlly. "Oh, Ger
aid, you saw her. She called to
you. Tell me, Gerald"
"My dear wife, there is nothing
to tell" he answered, gently.
And Isabel said no more.
Andso they drove home together
the husband grave and silent, th'
wife hurt, suspicious, and more
angercd than she had ever been i,
her whole life before with hin
whom she loved go idolatrously.
81 shall soon learn who that wo-
man is" was her jealons menta
declaration. 81 shall 60 to TIN
house and inquire about her."