The Carbon advocate. [volume] (Lehighton, Pa.) 1872-1924, 1880-04-17
If not paid in advance, $1.25

tuNluulS pOSlllons
1t was the best shot she could have fred
and il told.
With grim visage and compressed lips
madame consented.
With a light heart Ruth allowed Ned tc
help her into his buggy, and they drove
away rejoicing.
Jurt at sunset they returned, demurc and
quiet. Ned lifted her from the carriage as
though nothing had happened.
"Good night, Ruth" he cried, gayly, for
madame was seated upon the gallery, her
suspicious eyes, and wrinklcd face, turned
full upon them; but, she did not hear him
whisper under his breath:
"God bless my little WIFE"
The days glided by, quiet, with a sweet
peace. Ruth saw a good deal of her young
husband; for he had always been frequent
visitor at madame's, and surely would not
stay away now, when all that he cared fol
IN the wide world dwelt beneath that an
cent ROOF.
One evening, madame having retired un.
conscionably early, Ruth wandered out into
the garden, amid the magnolias and jasmine
and Grape myrtles.
A quick step sounded upon the walk be-
hind herr she turned to see Ned looking
CHASTITY pale in the moonlight, and holding
in his hand an open letter. He came for
ward and caught her IN his arms.
at has come at last, Ruth" he murmur-
ed. "oh, my precious wife how can we
bear it?"
"What?"
Her face was rigid her clenched teeth
sank deep into into the full red lip.
"The parting; Uncle Ned has sent for me-
he says that he cannot last long"
Ruth's hands were tightly clasped; her
form trembled. Obi there is such woe
such unuterable agony in there partings,
That crush the life from out young hearts.
But, it was all for the best. They knew
it, and SO they determined to bear it all, a:
bravely as possible.
"Who is with your uncle at present %
asked Ruth at last.
"Lucie Dale, his orphan ward" Ned ans.
wered, somewhat hurredly.
"You never told me of her, Ned!"
Ruth's voice had reproachful ring in it
"No, darling. l will explain why. Il
has always been my uncle's wish that We
should marry; but never cared for her
never trusted her, and was determined moi
to. That was one reason why FASTENED
our marriage, Ruth, for fear that Uncle Ned
mi m Iht insist upon my mafryiaags-Lucie. iag !
believe her to be false, designing woman
BE courageous, little one. We shall soon be
happy"
There was a moments pause, and then
Ned continued:
"Ruth, will you give me our marriage
certificate? In case that l am obliged to
acknowledge our marriage to Uncle Ned, it
will be best to have the proof to exhibit
And the certificate is the only existing proof
now for, last night, the office in which the
public records are kept. was burned to the
ground, and all the papers and books were
consumed. l shall not retain it long, dar-
ling"
She handed it to him without a word
for she always wore it next to her heart.
And so they parted, with long-long kisses
oliarewell and clinging embraces, and words
of love, that could never be forgotten.
And the long, dreary, almost intermnable
days dragged by, with no break in their
ceaseess, stagnant monotony to the waiting
heart of the young wife, save the long, low
ing letters, which came at first frequent and
tender; then grew less frequent, anl then
oh was it not horrible?- ceased altogether.
For weeks Ruth waited and watched for the
coming of the "white winged messenger" of
peace" waited with the awful anguish of
suspense, and the sickening doubts of hope
deferred. 1t has always seemed to me that
the hardest, most bitter, most uncomfortable
part of life, is just such waiting. Give me
the sharp, quick agony of knowing the
worst it is infinitely better than suspense,
which, like water dropping upon a rock,
wears the heart away.
One chill, dreary November morning,
when the sky seemed full of tears, only
waiting to fall, Ruth opened the newspaper,
which came once a week, to bring news
from the busy world outside Some spirit
directed her wandering, listless eyes, to tue
column of marriages.
"Marred: In New York city, on the 18th
inst, by Rev. John Stockwell, Edward
Bentley, to Lucie, only daughter of the late
Arthur Dale, Of New Orleans"
With low. gasping cry, she covered her
face with her hands. A deserted wife, ru-
iued, lost, for he still retained the marriage
certificate, and no other proof existed in the
world
al knew he would regret it'll" she walled
in bitterness. "I am older than he, and he
is but a boy.
Even in that dark hour of agony, she had
no word Of censure for the man she loved
For, all the while, despite the dreadful fact
which stared her in the face relentlessly,
and which that paper had revealed, there
burned within her heart the vestal fire of
that faith, which "many waters cannot
quench, neither can the floods drown" In
the very face Of indisputable truth, she de-
termined to seek Ned Bentley, and obtain
an interview. Pride said no; but loye in
this woman's heart was stronger than pride,
and it prevailed.
One morning, early, before any of the
household Of Leon were stirring, Ruth step
ped out from the low doorway of the house.
which she was never again to enter and,
took her way over the dewy roads, on to
the station, a mile distant She had decid-
ed to leave in this manner for she knew
well that the madame would never con sent;
and she could not endure the storm she knew
would follow a disclosure of the truth.
She had means to delHy her expenses to
New York, and soon seated in the train,
she was whIrled away northward. It ives
evening Of the fourth day, when almost
worn out with fatigue, she arrived in New