The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1884-03-01

had CHANGED to meet her before her marriage
you would have had a very formidable rival
He did not answer; he grew dreadtully white,
and, biting his lips, turned away.
But l had not DONE
There was an excuse for me, for / loved my
brother with all my heart and was jealous for
him.
Hasn't Ste wonderful, powerful voice for
such little creature2'
''That is a lovely thing she is singing now.
1t is Beethoven's Adelaide isn't it" he an
swered quietly.
eyes; her favorite song, or rather Mark Perez
walls, which is about the same!"
He looked at me sternly, for the first time in
his life, and then said:
you have never really loved any one, Ellen.
But be careful that you don't plant thorns that
may prick you more then any one else
His words were prophetic. How deeply re
GREETED my wckedness no one knows Yet at
this time l hated Ste for being the cause Of the
first rebuke that Gerald had given me- and IN
Ediths ear put word now and then that soon
builtup a wall of ice between her and my broth
er's wife.
Gerald grew silent and even little morose.
And Ste felt it, and was hurt that he did not
tell her the cause of his change. She became re-
served, crushing back her loving impulses; and
as Mark Percivai's visits had suddenly grown
less frequent Gerald thought Ste was grieving
over this. Gerald, who not rich man, and
an artist by profession, worked by night as well
as by day-worked to keep himself from think
ing. And so some months went by. He was
looking miserable, at last, and Ste. declaring he
was really ill., begged him to take rest. Her
anxiety chasing away her latter reserve, she in
sisted on his securing physician, but he steadily
refused She begged then that she might send
for Mark Percival
When she said that looked at Gerald-a look
that spoke volumes. She just wanted an excuse
to have him again near her, thought, and my
glance told that and more.
Then there came into Geralds blue eyes an OK
preston that deiied my understanding could
not tell if it was defiance of me or curious
sort of resignation to the will of woman whom
he worshiped with all his soIu.
Yes he said, languidly, 'send for Perciyal
il it will relieve your mind.
The next day Mark Percival came, and for a
long time he and Gerald We're clOseted together
while Ste, and my sister, and myself were told
not to go near the room, but when Mark Perez
val came out into the hall Ste spied him from the
lawn, and in a moment she was by his side,
speaking intently-so intently that she never
saw my eyes watching from a bow-window in the
morning room that jutted out giving view of
the rest of the building.
By and by they went down the steps, side by
side, into the garden, and heard him say, in
rather a low voice:
He must stop work and rest little, Mrs.
Fame. He complains of a pricking sensation in
his right side and shoulder l do not like that
1t is rather unfavorable. Still, with our united
care, and with rest, think we shall bring him
round
And Ste answered him with a smile. l could
not see that, and believe that she was young and
sanguine, and that she realized her husbands
danger. How could l give her credit for this
when l suspected her-suspected as foully as l
could-that it was not Gerald whom she loved,
but-Mark Percival
Gerald was resolved to work on in spite of
everything We were not rich, he said, and
work was necessary then for several weeks.
Ste, instead of passing the hours in his studio,
as she used to do, would remain in her own room
with her door locked-sulking, | told her sister
At last one day blow fell on us ala dread
full blow, and harder to me since believed | had
helped to bring it-that perhaps | was really the
instrument that had dealt it. Had l not made
my brother unhappy? Perhaps he would not
have worked so necessarily in the vain hope of
banishing thought.
Ste found him one bright summers day ap-
parently lifeless, beside his easel and for weeks
he fingered, lowering as it were, between US
and eternity.
And his wife, remorseful of her treachery and
want of faith, seemed to have no thought but
him. She never left him for moment and if
she slept it was by snatches only, with her head
against his pillow, when his slightest movement
would awaken her.
After what seemed an age of anxiety to us the
doctor said he would live but never more to
work, for Gerald's right arm was parayzed |
had been growing less bitter in my feelings to-
wards Ste during my brothers illness-she
seemed to be really so devoted to him. But
with his brush a look of triumph came into her
eyes which puzzled me- and again | began to
doubt her, and the doubt grew stronger when l
saw her meet Mark Percival in the porch and
stand for many minutes in earnest whispered
conversation. Once-from behind a laurentinus
bush-I saw her place her hand on his arm and
look up into his face her great, wild, dark eyes
full of glittering tears, while she said with quv
ering lips:
CHOW much longer? Oh, these lost weeks have
IN Ind oh how
not been deceiving mel may hope"
Everything" he answered, interrupting her,
and taking the mite of a hand in his. II tellyou
that you have not many more days to wait, and
then we shall both be very happy"
Upon this Ste smiled up into his handsome
eyes with strange, wistful yearning look that
drove me almost wild with the bitterest anger
and suspicion. Now dare not even look back
to the horrible feeling that filed my heart with
regard to the woman whom my brother had
made his wife, and in whom he had placed his
happiness, his infinite faith, and, more than all,
his honor
But Gerald was in weak and critical state,
and did not dare to warn him of what feared.
He was very loving and tender to her and
could see his eyes follow her slight figure
wherever she moved with an expression of
mingled affection and doubt that was sad to
look upon.
When one day she heard Mark Percval's voice
at the door, she darted out of the room TO meet
him, forgetful of mass of roses on her lap with
which she was making a bouquet, and needless
Of the lovely fragile flowers in her haste and
evident agitation, she trod out their beauty with
her feet.
Then heard Gerald murmur to himself,
''Poor little one. She is so young. l hoped to
make her happy, but am so grave and quiet
that she cannot love me. God give me strength
to bear it'll"
] told my sister of this, but she would hardly
listen. She had bewitched her and she declared
that my brothers wife was a thoughtless child,
but nothing worse.
The death of the summer had come and au-
tumn brought its wailing wind, and the leaves
died in company with the long bright days,
wrapped in splendid cerements of rainbow hues
And Gerald grew no better.
The truth was, that he did not care to live
Ste was in n state of feverish excitement
which seemed TO ornM MnrSa ench hmm. Ono