The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1880-03-11
His Second Wife.

These wise people-these who manage
their neighbors' affairs in theory much
better than they do their own III practice
shook their heads in solemn conclave
when Mr.. Hepworth married the second
time; but an added shade of venom was
in ther councils when the village paper
noticed, in paragraph, the birth of Q
SON and heir ct the great house.
"Poor Clarice," they said, "has nc
choice now. 1t was bad enough when
Hepworth married chit of a girl who
of course, cared for nothing bu this great
wealth; but now there is son, there is
no hope for poor Clarice."
a young, fair woman, herself in the
very spring time of life, yet having al:
ready taken the holy ties of wife and
mother into her pure heart, knelt in one
of the rooms of the great house-knelt to
bring her beautiful face nearer to the
cradle upon which rested the soft, deli.
cate cheek of her baby boy.
a low knock at the door aroused her.
and, rising to her feet, she answered the
summons. =
Upon the threshold stood q woman o
few years older than herself, who led by
the hand an exceedingly handsome boy
who had seen two summers only.
The woman was poorly dressed in a
shabby mourning suit, but the pretty lit,
tie child wore dainty white garments. !.
"Did you wish to see me % Mrs. Hep
worth asked, smiling sweetiy on the
Z child. -
ssMayI come in?" was the woman's
question in return.
Certainly, you look tired" said Mrs
Hepworth.
The stranger accepted the chair offered,
and sadly looked around the room:
Everything is altered" she said in a
ncurnful voice. "Perhaps l had better
stay away. Mrs. Hepworth you have
heard of Clarice henderson,"
sI have not" was the reply. IT am
almost stranger here. We have been
travelling ever since married, till few
months ago" :.
"And you never heard of mep said
the stranger, tears rising in her eyes.
aThen my errand here is indeed hopeless.
If, in his new happiness as your husband
my father never spoke my name, it is
useless to hope he will forgive me-"
srYour fatherl Mr.. Hepworth your
father? he told me he had lost his only
daughter"
sNot that I was dead; I was lost to
him by my own disobedience. You love
my father?"
Just smile, proud, happy and tender,
answered her.
"Then you will understand me-" said
Clarice, "when I tell you I loved my
husband better than father, home or du-
ty. Father would not hear of our mar
riage, and sternly forbade me to speak
to Lucien henderson, assuring me that
he was fortune-hunter, 8 gambler, and
unworthy of my love. I would not be-
lieve this. To me he was the noblest
and the best Of men, and for him / left all
to fly secretly from home and father. I
have been bitterly punished.
aI spare you the history of four years
Unmarried misery that followed. Then
nv husband and eldest child died of con-
tageous fever. Three months later, on
the very day this boy was born, I heard
of my fathers marriage. Ireturned here,
hoping for pardon, but the house was
shut up. When you came, / determined
to make one mole effort tor forgiveness
hoping that you would plead for me"
eff my praying will keep you here,
Clarice, you shall not leave your fathers
house again. Mr.. Hepworth is in the
library, and will speak to him at once"
"Cheer up, Clarice," said the lady,
brsvely; "what is your little boys
name?"
"Stephen. It was the name of my
brother who died. My first child was
called after father"
"Stephen," said Mrs. Hepworth, open
ing her arms, "come here, darling, and
kiss your grandmother"
The child sprang at once to the lovely
grandmother, kissing her over and over
again.
Putting him into his mothers arms,
the young wife lifted her owr babe from
the cradle and left the room.
In the darkly- furnished library Mr..
Hepworth was leaning back in his easy
chair.
A light step aroused him from his rev.
erie, and his wife stood before him.
Her husband opened his arms to caress
her, and laughed as he said:
"Oh, these mothers! Do you suppose,
madame, that babies are admitted into
the ,sanctums of'legal gentlemen ?"
II do" said the mother, "if the legal
gentlemen have the additional honor of
being their papas."
'Did You know, Harold" said Meta,
her lips quivering slightly as she felt the
deep import of her words, "that this is
my birthday, and you have given me no
PRESENT."
"You are impatient, little wife," he
answered, thinking of the costly bauble
that was to come without fail by noon.
"But would like to choose my own
gift" size persisted.
"What can / give my rosebud that she
has not already 2"
"Does not your Office include the power
of pardon p" she asked, her bright,
sweet face paling with earnestness.
"In limited degree it does" he re-
piled; "but dear one, shouldn't like it
to be known that show clemency to q
criminal upon your solicitations. You
would be constantly annoyed by the loving
relatives of scamps trying to move me to
pity through your intercession."
"But this is not case of roguery, Har-
old-only true penitent; one who erred
in extreme youth, was led from a path of
duty by love as true as our own, but mis-.
taken; oh, dear husband, do you not
know for whom I would plead? Cannot
you guess for whom 1 would beg"
"Clarice," he asked hoarsely, "who
mas told you of herr"
"she has come herself to seek your for
giyeness."
"She is here? 2"
"Yes. You will forgive her? For the
sake of our own boy, Harold, let this be
a home for her and Stephen"