Arizona weekly enterprise., 1882-09-23
OUT OF THE MIST.

"Ellice-"
 s'Wen?''
 The tone was anything but well. FL lice looked up with an impatient air from her seat in the bow-window of the library. as her young husband, whose tread she had heard entering the room an instant before, came up and parted the lace curtains which fell across the archway of the window, yelling her. "Ellice"
 "Well?'
 He put into her slowly extended hand an open letter.
 Il have just heard from our friends at Heatherbrae. They want us to come to them next week. You will see they are expecting quite number of people. But no one. Grahame writes me, with more pleasure than he will look for us; that is. if our honeymoon is sufficiently over for us to have any remem mbrance of such a sublunary spot as Heather brae"
 There was faint, unconscious curl of Euice's pretty red lip, as he made this quotation from the letter in her hand. - -SAA- flashed 2 glance at him. And what dId you reply?''
 II have not yet replied. 1 have come to see what you would say, having mere :. ly begun my letter"
 'I hope you told him from the very beginning, then, that you and l were far too sensible and practical to go moon- ing about alone, and that we shall be very glad to join the Heatherbrae cir cle"
 He fixed his eyes upon her search ingly.
 ''I told you had not answered his invitation. Ellice, 1 am quite aware that our marriage is failure, even be- fore the honeymoon might be expected to have set; but did rot thinkit neces- sary to proclaim the same to the Heath erbrae circle"
 What does itmatter?" she said, reck- lessly. Il suppose they can see for themselves that we are the two most sensible and practical young married people Of their acquaintance; that we have none of that nonsense called TO- nance, or sentiment about us. We know what we married for. and I sup pose we have both got it.''
 He came step nearer, and put his hand gently but heavily upon her shoul- der, as if he meant to constrain her to reply to him.
 ''You have hinted as such. more than i once, Ellice. Now, I must know what you mean"
 Her color deepened, but she raised her eyebrows mockingly.
 'Is there anything to take exception at in the assertion? Every bride and bridegroom cannot say the same, I am afraid; but we know what we married for, and suppose we have both got it. D
 And what is it you married for?' he asked her, in a tone so still and calm that it might be mistaken for indiffer- ence. She evidently so mistook it.
 q? That I might belong to some one; that I might be less utterly alone in the world than all my life had been. was never alone, you will say; my guardian sent me governesses enough when l was child, and companions when l grew toward womanhood. But 1 never belonged to them; they belong ed to me. and let me see it in hun dred servile ways, even when l was too mere child to understand what it wa: to be great heiress. It was the same with my lovers; but when you cam'
 "Wen, when I came?" he repeated for her voice had stopped.
 "When you came," she said, very quietly, II knew at once that it was diff ferent. I knew it was not you wh' would belong to me, but 1 who would belong to you. And 1 thought it would be an exceedingly fine thing, who ha' always been my own mistress, to be thu mastered-n
 A deep flush rose to Maurice Worth ington's brow.
 Have I ever been harsh, or unkin' to you, Ellice?"
 ''No," she said. quietly. ''You ar kind to all who belong you. My mis take was in thinking 1 could bear t belong to anyone. l have no right t complain; 1 got what I married fol And you"
 Have I also made a mistaken h asked her, bitterly. . 'Ah, that is more. than I can tell; bu neither have you a right to complain for you have what you married fol however unsatisfactory you may find now"
 And that is?''
 Ellice hesitated just an instant, the she thrust her hand suddenly into tn little velvet dunOniere which she wor attached to her belt, and drew from it crumpled letter, evidently much req and re-rcad.
 Perhaps this will remind you whs that is. she said.