The National tribune., 1882-09-09

| to utter, or / to listen, to such words? ],
the deformed-the
Not to me-" he interrupted, passionately.
"You are fair as an angel in my sight
| have read your pure soul in the depths of
your wonderful eyes; and it is that love-
not the shell, the baser part. o. Isabel /
might never have dared to tell you, because
of your wealth; but, truly, and fervently,
and unchangeably, I love you"
A month from that time they were mar
ried. Uncle and Aunt Linar opened their
eyes, indeed; but, as Aunt Linar said:
Isabel was a good girl, and though it
was strange enough fancy, Philip seemed
set on it."
The bonds and mortgages, and broad acres,
doubt if she mentioned even to herself,
though the charitable world gave that fact
the prominence, loudly proclaiming that
Philip Linar had made a decided good
thing of it!
The world, however, might talk as it
pleased-the young husband and wife heard
it not; nor would have cared if they did.
They were spending the honeymoon in the
old homestead of Isabel's fathers-old and
somber no longer now, but airy and gay,
with its new frescoes and galleries and furni-
ture as the spirit of the bride herself. Like
others raised to affiuence from the depths of
poverty, she was prodigal of her new in
heritance of happiness. Now that she was
sure Of it (for, until her wedding day, she
had lived beset by haunting dread lest
something should snatch it from herr, she
lOnged to bestOw portion Of it on Others,
and so she wrote to Lima Haight-the only
friend she ever had-to come to her, and re-
ioice in the sunlight with her.
Invitations from people with eight or ten
thousand year are seldom slighted, and
week after Lima came-a girl about Isabel's
own age, pretty enough with her blue eyes,
dazzling skin, regular features, and wealth
of golden hair, but very marvel of beauty
and development. Her long, sloping shoul
ders, rounded chin, and pillar-like throat
melting into her white neck, perfect arms
and rosy, tapering fingers were the very
realization of a sculptor's dream and though
she had little character, small intelligence
and no intellectually, all her movements
were graceful. her voice low and pleasant,
and her manner shy, clinging and conciliat-
ing. In weeks time she had niched her
self into the household and its ways. In
month she had assumed various little respon-
sibilities, and seemed fairly installed as
member Of the family, to no ones satisfaction
more than that of Isabel, especially as time
began to show her some flaws in her welded
happiness and her need of other friendship
beside that of her husband.
Like a cloud darkening a summer day
stole into her soul the first warning of evil in
an indefinable GOODNESS between herself and
Philip. Hciress and mistress Of large estates,
she had never learned to yield Philip must
be obeyed. There were no quarrels, but
secret heart-burnings and smothered anger
Isabel stormed and wept, and was half the
time sullen. Philip preserved cold equa-
nimity, more exasperating than actual out
rage; it ended, of course, in Isabel's deciding
to yield Mature has so ordained it that all
men are mean hypocrites and all women
day spent in tears in her room, dressed her
self with unusual care and went down to
greet her husband with the news of uncon-
ditional surrender. She waited till the usual
hour for his coming was past. Then, tired of
sitting alone in the fast darkening parlors,
she sent up for Lima; but the servant came
back with word that she was out Half
veXed, she snatched up her garden hat and
went out toward the orchard at the back of
the house.
There, under the shade of an old apple
tree, sat Philip, and by him Lima. Isabel
stood at the style like one thunderstruck
She had been sitting at home waiting for her
husband, and he was there with her friend,
looking into Lina's blue eyes as once he had
looked into hers. Here came cooler thoughts
Philip often came that way to shorten the
road. Lima had strolled out there, or was
sitting under the tree and he had Joined
her. That was all. How absurd to be ieal-
Gus; and yet, try as she would, she felt that
in spite of her, her voice was cold and al
tered, and her look suspicious, when the tru-
ants at last came home.
"You are late" she said to Philip.
YES" he answered, with an affectation of
gayety. "I started at the usual hour, but
was detained on the road, and came home
with fearful forebodings of your wrath, and
cold tea, till was consoled by meeting Lima
at the gate-a companion in misfortune,
having been belated also"
Isabel's heart sank within her. If there |
was nothing to conceal, why should he stoop
to falsehOod? She glanced at Lima. Her
fair face was perfectly crimson
make no excuses, returned Isabel, coldly. |
" I saw you in the orchard, and can bear
witness that you both seemed to have excel
lent reasons for lingering"
Philip bit his lip, and Lima turned deadly
pale; but neither attempted an answer; and
all the rest of that long, miserable evening
the silence was unbroken till Lima rose, and, |
bidding them timid good night, hurried |
from the room. Then Isabel laid down the |
work over which she had been so uncom-
monty busy all the evening, and folding her
arms fixed her brilliant eyes steadily on her |
husbands face who had tried to veil his |
under the pretense of reading, but |
that searching look penetrated alike through |
his book and his fimsy subterfuge He |