Daily Republican., 1884-08-25
KITTIE'S HUSBAND.
BY ALICE DALE.

| wv Sn"ich, uoy anu girl, whose
faces were evidently without recent &C
quaintance with soap and water, and
and whose yellow curls were tangled
and unkempt, were quarreling vigor-
ously over set Of dilapidated toys a
pale weary little woman, with fair
faded face which had once been bea,.ti.
iul, sat listlessly staring from the win
dow upon the dreary dismal street out.
side a huge basket heaped with arti-
cles Of wearing apparel, all more or less
in need Of the "stitch in time, which
saves nine" standing at her side I'M
noticed now, for the weary hands were
folded idly in her lap, while the large:
iustrous gray eyes were staring into
vacancy.
Kittis Tremaine was in q despouent
mood-no mistake about that.
An untidy little figure she cut, In her
plain blue print frock, not altogether
spotless, quite unornamented, and
lacking In collar and cuffs her thick
mass of wavy yellow hair twisted up
into an ungraceful knot ut the back OF
her head, her feet thrust into a pair OF
torn slippers.
wish Gordon would come 7" she
mnttered, petulantly. :" L believe he
wouldn't care II he never came home
again. He IL not the kind, loving hus.
| band that he was when We were first
married. He took me from comfort.
able home, and now, little by little, we
have come down to this I"
And the gray eyes LETT the window
to travel with d glance of contempt
around the cherries apartment. Yet
1t would not have been one half so uu.
Inviting, had order regnei supreme
| within it the children neatly attired
the mistress herself iu more becoming
costume and wearing a less hopeless ex.
preston.
But kittie did not think of all this as
she went on with her soliloquy
The time haS been unused the
young wife bitterly" when Gordon
would have found no happiness away
| from me. He always hurried home
from the office then; and he had tw ice
the business that he has at present.
Now, II ask him what detains him,
| the answer comes sharp enongh:' Bust
| ness, business, doa'f bother Inc, Kittie!'
And | Just don't believe word of 1t.
He = ever comes home now until late;
| hs never takes me out any more, OF in
vites our friends here. True, we have
| become poor; but there are several old
| friends left, who would not forsake us,
but Gordon declares that the house
il never Ia order. So"-with a burst
of angry tears" might almost al
| well live on u desert island, I'm sure,
with all | have To attend to, and only
one incompetent servant, l think | do
very well. l wish l had never married
Gordon Tremalne, so there! iii had
not bec1m his wife, Aunt Elizabeth
would have adopted me, and when shs
dies | would be worth u million. Sh,
is very old and all alone in the world
but she did not want me to marry, and
now"-with a regretful little sigh
" her money will 90 to some charitabl Il
institution, | suppose; and shall 90 on
shaving for an nngratefui husband al
my life-without love, or hope, or happi
ness !"
She arose. and having administered q
singing repr0of and something else t,
the refractory children, she sent then
off up stairs, under convoy of Ann, the
lslatternly mai of all work; then she
returned to her seat at the window, and
her Improbable reflections
1t was getting late, and still Gordo,
did not come.
| No matter; she was getting accustom
ell her lonely lite now.
She pushed the window open little,
and sat idly, listlessly watching the
few passersby Very few they were,
for it was not q popular or fashionable
throughfdre.
All at once voice fell on her ears,
!. voice from the street outside.
Two gentlemen had halted almos
under her window, and every word tina
they uttered came distinctly 10 he
ears.
Tremane is going it, pretty fast
ism hep" quarled one.
How so?" asked the other.
The first speaker laughed aloai-,
lutte unpleasant. laugh, which grate'
on Kittie's ear with hidden meanine
"Why, the pretty willow, of course
. Mrs. Bslaire-that brunette beaut,
with whom you may zee him driving al
moss any pleasant evening. Wonde
what his wife thinks about it? Sa
vas - pretty girl once. l was half il
love with her my elf; but she favore
Gordon Trema.ne, because hs had {
, handsome face and agreeable manners
and she married him. Between you an
me, Bolton, she has had cause to regre
II, and Will have still more. By til
1
:, borhood."
"And 50 Gordon Tremaine," said tn
o. her man, ea9eriy. 9 is flirting wit
Mrs. Bellaire? WHAT does the u u
: mean?"
: Again that unpleasant laugh.
ard TO tell He is Just smitten
, ,appo " ; nnd auy way, Bolton, | hav,
hren r,ld that nis home u so unpleasant
= tia. he really nas little inducements {
remain there And when a marie
? man stays away from home every eve
lining not occupied by business, 20
may bet your last dollar he has fount
more cougeuial society somewhere"
IL 1.-THE soouudrel - exclaimed tn
man called Bolton I" he deserves hang
ling A man has no right to marry
woman, and treat her in that beartles
way. lie took her for better, 10
" orse, you know.
For the third time that exasperatin
laugh.
Il Klttie began to feel an insane desir
to strangle the speaker.
: Eyes. Well, he has evidently foun
.. life with her rather worse than bsttsI
, Aud she WAS swee. little lady, nc
' lsight years ago. Lo. how We a
change!"
Il and then tho two moved on, an
Kutie Trsmaine closed the windo "
i and arose to her feet, different W,
man.
All her life seemed to lie before hel
2 la picture made up of lights an
!. shadows; but alas! the married yea,
Q lay in the shadow, and (there was tn
/. Istine) she alone was to blame
Where was he now-he who ha
l. taken that solemn pledge to low
Honor, and CHERISH" and forsake a
others, keep only unto her as long a
: they both should live ?''