Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1883-04-04

Nv life IL almost 1nsupportable. You KNOW
that do not love my husband, that | never
loved him. You, only, know the whole army
of circumstances under which l married him.
Well, he is my husband and [ try TO be good
wife but this existence is like some dreadful
nightmare dream, Percy. 1t does not seem as
il it could be me who lives and breathes and
answers to nv name. | am so desolate aud OPP
pressed-so despairing! | have the feeling,
sometimes that am under q SPELL that my
faculties are paralyzing and that | shall lose
nv mind in this dull, void living. Only when
your letters come am alive. | feel that you
| love me, and live and feel, and am exquisite
" happy and miserable, both together.
'My husbands long as / perform my
daily duties he is contented. He knows moth
| ing of my feelings. He considers me ma
| chine for his comfort. Sometimes | loathe
him. Usually am Indifferent to him.
''But tonight it seems almost as if | dared
escape to YOU. Freedom, love, happiness
may they still be mine? Before long | will
grant you an interview. l will promise you
nothing more than that now. Percy, my only
| love, God bless and keep you until we meet.
Zone word more. Pray be cautious. Ii my
| husband should discover this correspondence
cannot answer for the consequences. Though
he has never ilI-trt ated me, [ know him to be
hard man.. But let me hear from you soon.
| Yours p"
The name was illegible, for the sheet
was much discolored and blotted by the
rain. But it was Lucy's fine, delicate
chirography, and / felt as if thunder
bolt had broken around me.
After moments blank bewilderment
and strange, bewildering pain. | put
the sheet in my pocket and quietly con-
tinued my way. Such a flood of emo
ton was stirred within that / summoned
superficial calmness from an instinct of
preservation.
] was conscious of one predominant
feeling as ] went to the city-hatred
against my wife for her duplicity. 1
must have looked wretchedly when [
reached the Office, but my partner was
too much excited to notice it.
Knowles" he exclaimed, there
was terrible fire in Philadelphia last
night, and our branch house Is burned
to the ground. Here is a dispatch from
Weiss. He wants you to come on i'm
mediately."
In two hours I was on my way to
| Philadelphia.
There was much to do to restore our
interests; and / lent myself to the work
with all my energies. 1t was the best
thing that could have happened to me.
1t gave me no time to think of Lucie.
[ wrote her once, telling her veIy
| briefly, that [ should not be at home for
month. It was six weeks before L
again arrived at Daphne Dell. The
maid was washing the hall.
How do you do, Dorcas? How is
Mrs. Knowles !?
"Very comfortable. [ think she is
sleeping now, sir p"
SoY,ooxrl,o4 hox1-1 Inv
] went into the sitting room. No sign
of Lucia or of her work. / mounted to
the chamber and quietly opened the
door.
The room was darkened. Lucie was
sitting up in the white bed nursing the
infant. Sweetly and calmly she extend
ed her hand to me. / went to her-I
put my arms about her-I kissed her.
[ could not help it, for l felt that the
child upon her bosom was my OVID. The
nurse came in, took the infant from
her, and babe her lie down to rest.
She was very weak. / cannot express
my contending feelings as [ watched her
fragile face upon the pillow.
Slowly she gained strength. 1t was
midsummer before she was about the
house again. The little one had been
prematurely born, but it throve, and the
mothers health was finally restored.
I was reioiced at this, l should have
been perfectly happy but for that let
ter. The memory OF 1t was like an ugly
devil that moo ked me.
One day as Lucie sat tending her
child In low chair by the window laid
the sheet before her. l had fixed my
eyes upon her face, and saw slow sur
prise dawn upon it.
Where did you find this, viii? I
lost it months ago."
Under the orchard wall. What does
it mean, Lucie ?"
WELL" with a slight blush, "you
have found me out. It's leaf from
story was writing"
"And Percy"
"Was the hero. The sheet must have
blown out of The window, that rainy
night last spring. You, see, dear, J.
didn't like to tell you, because L thought
you wouldn't fancy having a literary
wife, but had been accustomed to writ
ing stories, sometimes, and when / knew
baby was coming I thought would earn
the money myself for the embroidered
flannel and cambria dresses. I knew you
needed every cent IN your business. [
had to rewrite this letter for my
romance, she continued. and / didn't
get it quite the same, examining the
sheet.
I looked at her sweet face for mo-
ment, and then fell down on my knees
beside her. I confessed all. Slow
amazement dawned in her countenance
At length her soft eyes filed with tears.
She drew my face down to her bosom
where the little baby was slumbering.
"Another lover? she murmered.
"Why, Will, nobody but you ever loved
me in all my life!"
Then, again, [ knew that she was once
more my Lucie!
Grave Secrets.