The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1884-11-13
A BYlNG CONFESSION.
BY LILY NJ. CURRY.

BY Lily NJ. CUHh1.
There was no color in the outer world
that day-no vivid color. The leaves,
which fingered still upon the trees,
were languid and safIron-hued from the
lasting drought The sky was clouded
over and the atmosphere chilled with
the whisper of approaching rain.
1 had been thinking hard about my
trouble. Long before dawn L had
wakened from horrible dreams of Mig
non-dreams that she was false; long
before dawn l had tossed from side to
side upon my bed, and felt my eye
balls burning and my heart beating
madly. / had tried then, desperately,
to compose myself, to master my emo
tions but could not, for always as /
closed my eyes, she came before me,
brilliant and beautiful, taunting and
terrible She came and crazed me with
her superb glance, her scornful lips.
As | lay waiting for the dawn, L re-
viewed the past. My thoughts travelled
swiftly back to the day of our mar
riage, half o year before. Since
then what wretched fears, what help
less terror had come to be my portion
Ia making her my wife, l had hoped to
make her heart mine own forever; and
now il seemed to me that she could
laugh TO look upon my dead face.
When daylight came at last, arose
and saw myself within the mirror-a
ghastly, haggard, desperate creature.
And suddenly l felt that she had
wrecked my body and my soul. L said
to myself that this should last no
longer: that L would know the worst
and abide by the knowledge.
She would return, that day; she had
been two nights absent, on o visit to
friends of hers (whom yet / had not
seem, up in the country. At least this
was the story she had told me. | had
not sought for proof or disproof of her
words. / had not dared to seek for Id
She would not arrive until evening;
and the day yawned before me like n
terrible chasm. 1 wanted neither food
nor drink, but wandered aimlessly
about our apartments-ou home,
which might have been little
paradise, far above the ebb and flow of
the stormy town. Our home, which L
had cared to make SO dainty she might
love me for the task. Alas.
There was no color in the outer
world. but ever in the space where /
walked singly to and fro, the flames of
purgatory danced before my sight.
/ could not choose but doubt her,
now that had found that letter among
her private papers-found it in my
frenzied search the night before. A
letter from n former lover
4 read it many times that morning; it
was brief, yet full of meaning.
81 love you; am wretched when
away from you. / cannot rest until we
meet again."
That was how it read.
at had no date.
L felJ no computations mt having
searched her desk. Why had she been
false to me? Had l not been faithful
and kind and loving? Had / not cher
ished her according to my vow?
1t was now long time since L had
first noticed certain peculiar little ac-
tiens of hers-impatient tossings of the
head, FESTIVE sighs, and curves of the
lip, which seemed to say, "you weary
me with your assiduousness, your jeal
Gus care. L love YOU no longer"
And then her latest actual complaint:
why do you torment me so? Have
1 no individuality? For PHYS sake, be
RATIONAL"
Rational! With that petulant voice
ringing in my ears
4 continued TO wander about our
rooms. At times her face came before
me-the face most dear to artists eyes
-beautifully shapen, faultless in color
ing, having the classic features of
Greece and the marvellous eyes of
Italy eyes made fit to dizzy all men
who should behold them. And all
around that face were rings of soft
brown hair that Redeemed in the sun
light.
As the day dragged YEARLY along,
thought of various methods by which
20 assure myself of what / must know
or die. And 50 at length L framed
any resolution.
I would net go to meet her at the
station. but. instead, remain mt home,
concealed, that she might believe me
gone. would place note upon the
center table, underneath the chande-
1ier, in the little parlor. This note
would promise my return the following
day. Her actions upon finding this
would tell the story.
Where to conceal myself.
Somewhere in the little parlor, where
she would enter and discover my note
j made a slow circuit of the room,
Inspecting carefully each separate arti-
Gle of furniture, and considering what
IL any, shelter il might afford.
started from the door leading into
our bed-chamber and passed leftward
from the same.
First came Mignon's writing desk, n
pretty little ebony affair, in which she
treasured many things, as'well l knew,
Some old photographs were there,
somn faded fouers aomc acrans of