St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1881-09-23

that | was alone.
Dinner, generally a joyous meal, was
IA failure that day. The girls were
tired, and Vernon listless and abstract
ed. All retired early and doubtless
slept the better for the days adven-
ture. But | was anxious and Distress
ed, for, until late hour, | heard the
soft step pacing to and fro in the ad-
joining room.
Next morning my young friends met
fresh and in renewed spirits around the
breakfast table. had just taken my
seat at the head when Miss Elliott en-
tered, white as chiseled marble, but
calm and self possessed.
AS we rose from the table | took her
hand and led her into the large lofty
room we used as parlor. Vernon had
seated himself at the open piano and
began to sweep its keys with his slen-
der fingers, evoking some wierd strain
of melody that echoed through the vast
hall. When he had ceased and was
rising from the instrument, Kate cried
out from the farther end of the room:
''Oh, Mr.. Rutledge, do give us Blue
Alsatian Mountains"
eyes, Miss Kate" he answered, 'but
first may | sing you my favorite song "
He sent one swift, searching look at
Miss ElliOtt's impassive face.
"Do you remember this ~ he asked
softly, as he bent his head to her and
struck the keys.
She made no answer, and he said:
81 recall it as well as | also recall
that night in June when first | heard
it sung"
His eyes were riveted on her face,
but she kept her own persistently
down, the long, black lashes resting
upon her cheek. Suddenly, as Yer
mons voice sank low and fingered ten
derly upon minor passage, the girl
looked quickly up, and the warm blood
swept over the whole face. Then the
tide receded, leaving her deadly pale.
Her hand went up to her forehead.
"Cruel !" she murmured, and rising
left the room with faltering and I'M
steady steps.
"What is the meaning of this ~
asked sternly. Why do you torture
that girl ?"
"She is tortuiing me-" he burst out.
''What does it mean? Ask her; it is
her secret. Oh, Mrs. Holmes, if you
have Il spark of friendship for me, |
implore you to follow her; and get her
to listen to me one moment, only one"
| went out to find her. She was in
her room walking about like one dazed,
wringing her slender hands together.
"My poor child, my dear child" l
said, "won't you look on me as a moth
er and confide i'll me ?'
She suddenly threw her arms around
me and wept like child on my shoul-
der. When she grew calm, she lifted
her head and said:
eyes, Mrs. Holmes, | will contide i'll
you. 1t is your due and besides you
have always been good to me. | am
not what | seem. My name is not
Marguerite Elliott am Vernon Rut
ledge's wife"
'EHis wife You amaze me. l thought
she was dead. His mother wrote me
that Vernon had lost his wife"
"Aye, lost her." she retorted with
bitter emphasis, "but not by death.
Doubtless his proud mother wished it
had been. She and his naughty sister
hated me because | was poor and OBJ
scurely born. My father was a poor
American artist, living in Rome and
fighting lifelong fight with poverty
and i'll health. My mother, Il young
Italian girl, had died at my birth"
''Vernon Rutledge was almost my
fathers only patron he was his only
friend. He bought pictures from him
that he did not want, he came often
and cheered him with his bright fresh
talk. When he grew feeble, Vernon
came every day bringing fruit and
cOrdials. When my father was on his
death bed and troubled about leaving
me unprotected, | gave "a willing con-
sent to Nernon's pleading that he might
have a husbands right to care for me.
We were married and my poor father
died happy. My husband took me to
Paris. where his mother and sister
were staying for the time. They
thought princess hardly a good
enough bride for Vernon, and to marry
the daughter of beggarly paint daub-
er-sO they called my father And all
the while they were secretly poisoning
his mind against me. | know it now.
His one weakness was jealousy. The
common courtesy of his male friends
paid to me was put by them in an evil
light. At last one day the crisis came.
| was in my room keeping down with
an effort the anger and the bitterness
il familiar voice outside then knock
ON the door. ''Come in," l cried ea-
gerly, and in a moment | was shedding
hysterical tears on the breast of my
adopted brother of long ago, good
kind, simple, hOnest-hearted Beppo
whom my father took up from the
street with broken leg when he was
five years old, and took care of till he
was old enough to go off in pursuance
of his trade as watch-mender. Won
dering and sympathizing, he soothed
| and caressed me in his simple way
r We had not seen each other for years
. Suddenly we heard low, sneering
laugh-my laws. She stood
in the doorway, pointing at me witt
her white ieweled hand-pOinting mt
) out TO my husband and with that look
: of withering contempt. Then followed
5 scene. Vernon ordered BeppO from
I the house he poured abuse upon him
reprOaches upon me. | retOrted hOtly
and his sister cast her insinuatiOns up
; on me like oil to feed the flame. He
: too, said things that stung me to the
: quick and determined to endure ne
more such insults. That night | lef1
l his house. | took passage on a steamer
and came to America to my father
I sister. When you advertised for ;
e companion to accompany you to Italy
h | came. | never dreamed of meeting
+ him. | prayed never to see his fac,
again, for how can | forgive him ?"
4 ''Yet you love him, Marguerite, IN!
e poor child"
''Oh do, 1 do, / can not help it :
e she cried clasDiDO her hands tear