The banner-enterprise. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1883-18??, 1884-01-26
il? Then I must be of. Good nigh, my
love. I'll try to be at home before elev-

u
Good morning, my dear. How's Car
ry? Better eh2 Well I'm glad to hear
it. Bethiah Lambs little girl was taken
with just the same symptoms, and she
didn't live three days. I'd advise you to
be careful, though, Alice. There's always
danger of relapse. By the way, where
has your husband gone to-day"
rs he not at his ofice?
No. He went out on the Brigham
Railroad this morning. l saw him 70 by
as if his life depended on the haste he
was making; and thinks ! to myself I'll
Just keep an eye on him and see where he
is going. 80 | followed as fast as could
trot, and was Just in time to see him
spring on board the train. What he was
going out Of town for didn't know but
thinks l to myself again, Alice can tell me
all about it,
Probably be is Looking for summer
board for the children, said Mrs. IIynde,
coldly.
But she remembered with pang that
her husband had said nothing to her
about it.
Charles, she said, when he came home
to dinner, where were you going out Of
town to day?'
How did you know | was out of town.
he asked little abruptly.
Miss Priscilla Forbes saw you start.
4 wish Miss Priscilla Forbes would be
so kind as to mind her own business.
Alice was silent minute, then she ask
3D.
Did you find place for the child
rem ?
No, was his brief reply.
Alice inquired no farther. She felt
hurt and resentful, and Charles paid no
attention to her silence. If he could only
have witnessed the burst Of passionate
tears to which she gave way when she
was alone by the couch Of her little ones
The farm house to which she and the
children were banished for the summer
was not particularly inviting spot we'll
shaded. however, with stream Of water
running through the grounds, and plen-
ty Of fresh milk and vegetables. But
Alice Lynde felt the lack of cheerful and
congenial society, the unvarying monotoDy
of the uneventful life, and pined secretly,
even while Frank and Garry and little
Lucy we're growing sunburnt and healthy.
4 wish Charles could spend little more
of his time here, she thought.
1t was scarcely to be wondered at that
she recurred sometimes, with thrill Of
yearning, to the old days when she was an
heiress, under the spreading linden trees
of beautiful Beech Grove. For Charles
lyHde's sake she had given up that beau
tiful home; had dared her unclc's threat
afterward carried relentlessly into effect
Of disinheritance had submitted to all
the trials and evils which must necessarily
surround poor mans wife; and now
Charles left her alone, to amuse herself
as best she might. So, while the child
rem grew fat and rosy, Alice grew thin and
pale.
He will come to night, she thought,
one Saturday evening, as she brushed her
glossy golden hair into the shining braids
he best liked, and put on favorite mus.
lin dress with long turquoise pin in the
blue ribbons that set off the transparent
whiteness Of her throat. oh, 1t seems
an age since saw him last
But instead of her husband presence,
the up tram from New York brought on
ly note, hurried and brief: +.
'pear Alice-I cannot come up tonight.
Business is SO pressing; love to the chill
dren. G. j.
The note fell from Alice's fingers a
sickening sensation came over her heart.
And 1 had watched for him SO anxious.
y. Oh, can it be possible that be has
ceased to love me2 Ne, who gave up
everything for his sake
On Monday letter from DIR. Carson
was brought TO Mrs. Lynde; letter eu-
closing another for her husband. The
doctor wrote:
Please give this to Mr.. Lynde. l was
at his Office twice on Saturday afternoon,
trying to find him but he was not there,
and the clerk told me had gone into the
country. Tell him he's lazy fellow to
neglect bis business so, when that business
is making him rich SO fast
Alice Lynde read the words three times
over before she fairly took in their whole
meaning.
He has deceived me, she thought.
1T was not the convenient plea OF bus
mess that kept him away from mel Oh,
Charles, Charles and has it come to
thisT
She sat down, still clasping the letter
10 her hand, and gazed vacantly out upon
the sunny landscape that lay before her.
If it we're not for the children l would
go away and never look upon his face any
more He loves me no longer. The af.
fection | SO blindly deemed my own Is
transferred to some other object; and why
should care what becomes of me Only
the children I
And as the blue-eyed Garry ran up to
her TO ask some triHing question, Mrs.
Lynde drew the child close to her heart
and burst into tears
Mammal exclaimed the astonished
little girl, why do You cry2 Are you sick
mammal
e'Sick2 Yes, sobbed poor Alice, 4
am sick of living. | am slck ct heart,
child.
And the plentiful shower of tears helped
to relieve her oyercharged heart.
i will endure il for the sake OF these
little ones. will suffer on and try to be
SILENT thought poor Alice, pressing
both hands over her aching heart.
The next week Mr.. Lynde was to come
and take his family home. Alice looked
forward to the day with q sick anticlpa-
tion. She louged for the hour Of their