Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1884-01-10


against some delusion, ''that you are the
person requested here to play the part o.
Juliet-in theatre-a public theatre ?-ano
that you had acted in public before ?"
eyes," she murmured almost inaudibly.
"Were you-a-professiona -actress-at
that time? ?"
eyes"
Chow long were you in the profession %
"About four years oh Silas my hus
band! don't look so-don't speak in that
way oh, what shall do!'
She sank on the floor at his feet; he rails
ed her quickly.
"Celestine, calm yourself, and leave me
for a few moments" he said in suppressed
tone. am not angry with you, but want
little time to think-I feel confused. dc
you hear? am not angry but [ wish to be
alone"
Gently but authoritatively he led her tc
the door-closed it upon her-then sat
down i'm his armchair by the table, and
leaned his head upon his hand. He scarce
ly knew what to think-he could not fathom
his own feelings clearly in regard to the
discovery he had made.
On the one hand he was conscious of q
sense of relief; deep, unmistakable relief
He had dreaded, almost without acknoWl'
edging it to himself, some wrong doing on
his wife's part which it might have been
very hard to condone, or else the existence
of some insuperable barrier to her affection
for him; he had just read in her looks, he1
tones, unmistakable confession that hel
heart, at any rate was his-he had felt it in
her convulsive clasp of his hands, which he
had loosed as he put her from him, and ii
had thrilled him in her bitter cry of distress
as she knelt before him. She loved him,
though she had erred previously against
him.
On the other hand, all the principles, all
the prejudices, which his training from his
childhood up had imbued into his mind,
revolted against the knowledge of the facts
lust laid bare to him. He had been taught
to regard the theatrical profession as an
odiouS one, and it's members as an unWOr-
thy set, almost unfit for pure ecOmpaniOnship
He had not believed that all actors and ac-
tresses must of necessity be immoral char
acters or lead evil lives; he had been will
ing to suppose that there were exceptions to
the general rule; but their occupation was
one which must lead them under evil in
fuences, and into an atmosphere in which
it must be hard to escape pollution. And
that his wife-his pure innocent Celes-
tine, with her childlike heart, her clinging
nature SHOULD have had her lot cast among
such as these! it was hard to realize, still
harder to be reconciled to. The conceal
ment, which had weighed SO heavily upon
her, did not seem as evil thing as the fact
itself.
And yet, justice prompted him to admit,
the concealment was really all he could
blame her for and that he could surely for
give, knowing how sorely she had been
pressed. She had committed no sin in fol-
lowing a line of life to which she had been
educated if she had led thatlife blameless-
ly, what was there to render her unworthy
of his best and purest love Rather let
him be thankful that he should have been
the means oflifting her intoa higher sphere ;
that it was granted to him to mould so love-
ly mind to loftier and nobler aspirations
than her early training had instilled.
And then came the shrinking fear OF dis,
covery-the dread that some one might find
out that he, Silas Warren, with his fixed
principles and strict ideas of right and
wrong, had married an actress
II am a coward" he muttered, springlng
up as if stung by his own reflections; IAN
unworthy, dastardly coward. What mat
ters it what the world says or thinks, as long
as l have acted with no wrong motive-as
long as her life and mine are blameless and
pure? Poor child-poor suffering, repent
ant child / will not leave her any longer
to fight out her trouble alone-she has not
sinned, that she should sorrow so deeply"
He sought his wife, and as he took her to
his heart she knew that her Wrong-doing
was forgiven.
ooh, Silas! was 1 not very wicked %
she whispered as she clung to him.
''No, my child. 1t would have been bet
ter for me to have known this before we
were married-not that l am sure it would
have made any difference, becaused | loved
you so dearly, Celestine, | could scarcely
have given you up-but then, at least, |
should have felt that you were quite frank
about yourself, don't you see?"
eyes; but Silas, that was hardly my
fault" she eagerly rejoined. "Don't you
remember, / tried to tell you once, and you
stopped me-you would not listen and |
tried again to get a chance, but there was
such haste and confusion, and l felt so be-
wildered, I hardly knew what to do or say
and since we were married, and | have
found out how good and noble you are, oh,
nv heart has ached to think that you should
have been deceived in me, though had not
meant it-and l have longed and longed
to tell you, but could not find. courage,
as | could have done before. | was
afraid YOU would think it dreadful thing
my profession, I mean-thOugh | had never
DoeD IduSIlU W lIllllh ~ DSlolC llN ONii
dear father did not think it wrong, and he
was always with me, and took care OF me,
and would never let any one speak even a
dsrespectful word. And oh, my heart has
been so full-and ! have felt guilty all
along, and so miserable!"
She poured out the words rapidly, inco-
herently, and ended with burst of tears,
hiding her face again on his breast.
"And you feared my anger, Celestine-
have I, then, seemed harsh or unkind?"
''No, no, never! but I was most afraid
you would not love me any more, and then
| should have died."
'"rhen you do care for me-my daring?''
"NIore than all the world beside! How
could help it, Silas"
"Then am happy-as long as we have
each others love, what matters anything
else? Only remember, Celestine, this is d
secret between us two; it concerns no one
but ourselves. People might wonder, and
Judge. We will bury the past, us though
it had never existed-your life is all new
and cut off from the old-it is a part of my
life now, don't you see" You are Celestint
Warren, the clergyman's wife; and all that
happened before is Onlya dream. l know
that you are as good and pure as an angel
and will never cast "a stain upon my name.'
"There was never a stain upon my name
and why should I ever cast one on yours ~
Celestine answered with momentary flash
of resentment. 1t was over directly, how
ever, and she was humble and tender again
happy and thankful in the restored relation
of mutual good will, and the establishment
of perfect confidence, which she had never
before enjoyed.
With the load of concealment removed
and the knowledge of forgiveness, won
she threw off the cloud which had shadow,
LII f1,,t LAr. TIN