The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1883-12-11

| ny rs II his LIE depended on the haste
he was making; and thinks to myself,
| iii just keep an eye on him and see
where he is going. So I followed as
fast as l could trot, and was just in
time to see him spring on board the
train. What he was going out of town
for l didn't know; but, thinks I to my
| self again, Alice can tell ne all about
| it.n
Probably he is looking for summer
board for the Children" said Mrs.
Lvnde coldly.
But she remembered with pang that
her husband had said nothing to her
about it.
"Charles," she said, when he came
home to dinner, "where were you going
out Of town to day?"
How did you know 1 was out of
town." he asked little abruptly.
miss Priscilla Forbes saw you start. I"
II wish Miss Priscilla Forbes would
be so kind as to mind her own business. :"
Alice was silent q minute, then she
asked
"Did you find place for the child
rcn?"
"No," was his brief reply.
Alice inquired no farther. She felt
hurt and resentful, and Charles paid no
attention to her silence. If he could
only have witnessed the burst of pas
sionate tears to which she gave way
when she was alone by the couch Of her
little onesl
The farmhouse to which she and her
children were banlshed for the summer
was not particularly inviting spot;
well shaded, however, with a stream of
water running through the grounds,
and plenty of fresh milk and vegeta-
bles. But Alice Lynde felt the lack of
cheerful and congenlal society, the I'M
varying monotony Of the uneventful
life, and pined secretly, even while
Frank and Garry and little Lucy were
growing snnburnt and healthy.
II wish Charles could spend little
more of his time here" she thought.
1t was scarcely to be wondered at
that she recurred sometimes, with
thrill of yearning, to the old days when
she was an heiress, under the spreading
linden trees Of beautiful Beech Grove.
For Charles Lynde's sake she had given
up that beautiful home; had dared her
uncle's threat-afterward carried re-
lentlessly into effect-of disinheritance;
had submitted to all the trials and evils
which must necessarily surround poor
mans wife; and now Charles left her
alone, TO amuse herself as best she
might. So, while the children grew fat
and rosy, Alice grew thin and pale.
"He will come tonight" she
thought, one Saturday. EVENING, eln1tilnIlg ,.as she
ssiiihins siiiSifa hrn iisho bosb nhod, and put oIl
q favorite muslin dress with q long tur-
queise pin in the blue ribbons that set
off the transparent whiteness of her
throat. "Oh, it seems an ago since [
saw him lastl''
But instead Of her husbands pres
ence, the up train from New York
brought only note, hurried and brief
"Dear Alice-I cannot come up to-
night. Business is too pressing; love
to the children. C. H."
The note fell from Alice's fingers; a
sickening sensation came over her heart.
"And I had watched for him 50 anx-
iously. Oh, can it be possible that he
has ceased to love me2 Me, who gave
up everything for his sake!'
On Monday a letter from DR.. Carson
was brought to Mrs. Lynde; a letter en-
closing another for her husband. The
doctor wrote:
'Please give this to Mr.. Ilynde.
was at his Office twice OH Saturday af-
ternoon, trying to find him; but he was
not there, and the clerk told me had
gone into the country. Tell him he's
lazy fellow to neglect his business so,
when that business is making him rich
so fast.'
Alice I1ynde read the words three
times over before she fairly took in
their whole meaning.
'He has deceived mo-" she thought.
cit was not the convenient plea of
business that kept him away from me!
Oh, Charles, Charles! and has it come
to this?"
She sat down, still clasping the let
ter in her hand, and gazed vacantly out
upon the sunny landscape that lay be-
fore her.
eff it were not for tile children I
would go away and never look upon his
face any morel He loves me no longer.
The affection L so blindly deemed my
own is transferred to some other object;
and why should care what becomes of
me2 Ouly-the childrenp'
And as the blue-eyed Carry ran up to
her to ask some trifling question, Mrs.
Lynde drew the child close to her heart
and burst into tears.
"Mammap' exclaimed the a5tonished
little girl, "why do you cry2 Are you
sick, mamma?'
"Sickl Yes, "sobbed poor Alice.
81 am sick Of living. l am sick at
heart, child"
And the plentiful shower of tears
helped to relieve her overcharged heart.
III will endure it for the sake of these
litt1n onoa I will euffar on on5 try to