The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1882-06-07
MS WORD OH HONOR.

The "Green Dragon at orping-
ton, assumed to be an inn, was really
little more than awayside stopping
place. Mr.. Hunter, landlord and
proprietor, was therefore not a little
surprised and iurried when, upon a
raw October afternoon; young man
presented himself at The; bar Of the
"Groen Dragon" !" and asked languidly
if he could be accommodated with a
bed and a sitting roain
"A bed, sir?" replied Mr.. Hunter,
a big man with red face and gray
hair; Eyes l think We can manage
to give you a bed"
"And sitting room2p
"a sitting room2p eehoed theland
lord, in tone Of one who is consid.
ering some great undertaking; zone
minute if you ,please sir
And Mr.. Hunter ppsasedr into
the little room adjoining the bar,
there to hold counsel with some sec
ond person, the upshot being that, in
a few minutes, Mrs. Hunter and a
few Hunters just out Of the crawling
state, issued forth, bearing respect.
lively working materials, socks in
process of being mended, tin whis.
ties and decapitated dolls.
"You can have this room all to
yourself, sir" said Mr.. Hunter, tri-
umphantly.
"You really must not let me dis.
turb you," replied the traveller.
"Don't you mention it," replied
the landlord, in a tone which was at
once genial and confidential; "we
would not turn a customer away
from our doors. You see we do not
have much parlor company"
"And this is the only room you
have that is disengaged?"
"Well, yes, sir this is the only
room at present. Susan! Goals for
the gentleman's fre.n
The traveller was glad enough to
enter the apartment and draw close
to the fire the one dilapidated arm
chair.
Arthur Seton, barristoh by profes-
sion, and a writer from choice, was
not really more than thirty, though
he looked considerably older; for the
dark hair and beard were streaked
with gray, and the face, with itsreg
ular, handsome features wore q look
of intense mental weariness.
For some time he leaned indolent-
! ly back, his hands clasped behind
his head; at last he rose and took
from his Tag a locked.up diary, which
he opened, and availing himself of
pen and ink which stood upon the
table, made the following entry:
OCTOBER II, 1S74.-Got up late
Called on the Brainstones; George
was out. Had u pleasant chat with
Annie; went like fool to Richmond,
and like fool, haunted the Well
house. 1t looked just the same as in
the old, dear days; but l heard chill
dren playing in the garden. The
house believe is let to city people.
Came back to London; dined at the
Pail Mall; went to the club. Got
back to chambers late. Wrote a col
umn Review a weary, weary day.
Shall l never know q moments for
gctfulness?"
He drew then from the leaves of
the diary a letter written in a deli
cate hand and addressed, "Arthur
Seton, Esq, u Gray's Inn" This
letter he regarded with a long, sad,
loving look; then, resting head on
his hand, he read it through very
slowly. 1t ran as follows:
"MY DEAR ARTHuR:-If you will
be so suspicious, so jealous and ex-
acting, | cannot see how we are ever
to be happy. Faith without works
is dead, and love without faith is no
blessing, but weary burden. / am
tired Of cross words and looks. Some
women, l believe, like the feverish
excitement of qnarrels, but ! only
wish for peace. This miserable jeal.
ousy is quite unworthy of you. Do
try and put it from you; and remem-
Der that love, once wounded, is some.
thing hurt past hope of recovery. l
received your article quite safely,
but | cannot speak about 1t now
You have made me too sad, too wea.
ry, and even a little indignant.
Yours aflectionately,
ALICE CLAREFIELD."
He replaced the letter, closed the
diary. took mn his nine and began