The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1884-05-15

the brow and lip-e little warmer Of
tint little brighter Of eye than when
they parted. It was only when she had
come very close to him that he noticed
the exceeding richness of her attire,
worn with the same careless grace rs
the old-time flannel.
"She does not become fine raiment"
his thought exulted, land yet would
seem endimanchee in cloth of gold.
She paused beside his chair, and look
ed straight into his kindling, deep blue
eyes with her own unwavering gaze.
ITO think meet you here!" he said;
II was sending you letter to Ell Parai-
so-see! Take tread it now! Inco-
herant as it is, it will speak as my lips
cannot"
He put the paper into her reluctant
hand.
II woald better not read it, think, "
she said, gently; let me explain
"Read!" he said, almost fiercely, and
she read slowly down the page:
1t was q year since had heard one
word of you the letter ran, with that
abrubt beginning which signifies abso-
lutte absorption when Ledyard, writing.
mentioned casually that in passing
through Ell Paraiso he had met You
there. The next day I started West
again. I am here, but I dare not go
farther until send in advance an ex-
planation-not an excuse, mind-for
what seemed cruel and cowardly re-
treat when we parted out yonder-you
remember the bleak, and hopeless day.
The fight I fought that afternoon has
disabled me ever since; but
also it has strengthened
me. Can you understand that? No;
no woman can understand what it meant
to have you there before my eyes, with
in reach of my arms. and to leave yon.
To know your sordid surroundings, to
hear of your privations, to see you beat
ing your wings against your prison bars,
and to know that the pleasures and lux
uries 1 would have heaped upon You l
must render in unwilling tribute to
woman I abhorred. You did not know
no one on this side knew-that had
wife. 1 married her in London when
1 was just of age. She was an honest
woman-I would have divorced her else
but her coarse and vulgar nature mada
my life hell. I gave up everything to
her, and came over to New York. She
was nestled in luxury, and you were in
actual want! Now you understand
the temptation I battled with
out yonder. had a wild
dream of carrying you away with me.
How you would have reigned little
queen in the bright and careless set
knew! Just as that wonderful adapta-
bility will make you now the most fin
ished and gracious of grandes danes.
[ had letter from her in my hand that
day, and burned it in your cedar fire
when I thought to do you that wrong.
But the look on your face drove back
my words, thank God! and I can offer
you now guiltless future, for the wom-
an who was my wife is dead. I am fol-
lowing this letter tomorrow.
Faithfully yours, EDWARD LAMB.
She had grown very pale. She
looked up with a gasp, one hand on her
heart. Before Mr.. Lamb could speak,
could touch her, the gray haired man
he had been watching had come to her
side
"What is it, Madelon?"
No voice of youth held half tho ten
derness of that old mans Tone
She made a brave attempt to smile
IN reinsurance.
ut was foolish-I am a little nervous
to-day, perhaps -and-Mr. Lamb has
given me, in this letter, i'll news of all
old friend. I will go away and rest
little from the shock. But first let me
introduce-What, Mr.. Lamb? Have
you already met-my husband ?"-San
Francisco, Argonant.