Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1884-10-29
SCENE II.

and babe each other but formal adieu.
/ & '3'.s SCENE II.
/ Mr.. Edward Lamb brought to it's
1 close letter, sitting in the reading
room of hotel in the city at the west
ern seagate.
! Sundry influences had delayed it's
completion; he had but just come to the
end of his transcontinental trip; q GER
tain sense of freedom and citation was
still new enough to intoxicate him
heart and brain; he could not put out
of his mind his sensation, when, cross
ing the bay from the train, he first
caught sight of the city looming ahead
like some mighty monster in bronze.
And an acquaintance he had made had
restrained him for time.
He was just putting pen to paper
when he was greeted by fellow jour
nalist, who presently introduced Mr..
Lamb to a man sit ing near-a man
whose name sounds historic in the rec
ords of the state, whose position and
great wealth might have commanded
the younger mans attention. Beyond
these, his interest had been won by the
mellow wisdom and gentle shrewdness
of this quiet, kindly potentate who, as
per the Pacific journalists dictum,
owned half county"
Even now, despite the vital interest
of the lines he was writing, Mr.. Lamb
found his mind and his eyes straying
toward his neighbor. The fine, small
head, venerable with its scant white
hair and flowing gray beard, was in re-
lief against the wall, that threw up all
its wholesome freshness and calm be-
nevolence. Mr.. Lamb found sort of
fascination in this contemplation and di-
vided his attention pretty equally be-
tween the gentleman and the letter.
AS he folded the sheet he lifted his
eyes towards the general staircase; COM
ing down from the floor above was the
woman he was addressing.
Self-possessed and easily poised, she
came towards him with the old free step
and the old impenetrable challenge on
brow and ip-a little warmer of tint, a
little brighter of eye than when they
parted. 1t was only when she had come
very close to him that he noted the ex-
treme richness of her attire worn with
the same careless grace as the old-time
flannel.
'She does become fine raiment!" his
thought exulted, "and yet she would
not seem endimanchee In cloth of gold"
She paused beside his chair and
looked straight into his kindling, deep
blue eyes with her own unwavering gaze.
To think meet you herei" ne said :;
| 1oA% 4r Z Do,
-seel Take tread it now! Inco-
herent as it is it will speak as my lips
cannot"
He put the paper into her reluctant
! hand.
Il would better not read, it think, %
she said, gently; "let me explain first ;"
'Read" he said, almost fercely, and
she read slowly down the page. aa7
] 1t was year since had heard one word of
you (the letter ran with that abrupt beginning
which signifies absolute absorption) when Led
yard, writing, mentioned casually that in pass
| ing through Ell Paralso he had met YOU there.
The next day started West again. I am here.
| but dare not go further unul I send in adj
vance my explanation-not excuse, mind.
for what seemed cruel and cowardly retreat
| when We parted out yonder-you remember
the bleak and hopeless day. The fight fought
!
| also 1t has strengthened me. Can you UNDER
| stand that! No: no woman can understand
| what 1t meant to have you there before nv ewes
| within reach of my arms, and to leave you. To
know your sordio surroundings, to see Won
beating your wings against your prison bars,
and to know that the pleasures ana luxuries /
| would have heaped upon you must render in
| unwilling tribute to woman abhorred You
did not know-no one on this side knew--that
had wife. married her in London when I
was Just OF age. She was an honest wolnan-I
would have divorced her else-but her coarse
and vulgar nature made my life hell 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 battled with out yonder. I had
| wild dream of carrying you away with me-
How You would have reigned little queen in
the bright and careless set / kneW Just az
| that wonderful adaptability will make you now
the most finished and gracious of grandes
danes, L had letter from her in nv hand
| that day and burned it in your cedar fire when
l thought to do you that wrong. But the look
on your face drove back my words, thank God!
and | can offer You now guitless future, for
| the woman who was my wife is dead. 7 am
following this letter tomorrow. -.
aW Faithfully yours, EDWARD LAMB.
She had grown very pale. She looked
up with 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 ever held half the
tenderness of that old mans tone.
She made brave attempt to smile in
reinsurance.
SIT was foolish am little nervous
to-day, perhaps and---Mr. Lamb has
given me, in this letter, i'll news of an
old friend. I will go away and rest a
little from the shock. But first let me
Introduce What, Mr.. LAMB Have
you already met--my husband?"