The Dickinson press., 1884-10-11
SCENE II

OClcr DuG o formal aQleu.
SCENE u.
Mr.. Edward Lamb brought to it's close a let
ter, sitting in the reading room of a hotel in the
city at the western seagato. Sundry influences
had elayed its completion; he had but just come
to tho end of his t~ranscontinental 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, crossing the bay from tho train, he first
caught sight of the city looming ahead like
some mighty monster in bronze. And an &C.
quaintance he had made haG restrained him
for atime.
He was just putting pom to paper whom he
was greeted by a fellow journalist, who pres.
emily introduced Mr.. Lamb to o man sitting
near-a man whose name stands historic in tho
records 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 gon.
tie shrewdness Of this quiet, kindly potentate
who, as per the Pacific journalists dictum,
sowncd half a county,"
Even now, despite the vital interest of the
lines he was writing, Mr.. Lamb found his MIND
and eyes straying towards his neighbor. Thu
fine, small head, venerable with its scant white
hair and flowing gray beard, was in relief
against the wall, that threw up all its whole.
some freshness and calm benevolence. MI.
Lamb found a sort Of facination in this contem.
plation and divided his attention pretty equally
between the gentleman and the letter.
AS he folded the sheet he lifted his eyes to.
ward the general staircase; coming down from
the floor above was the woman he was address.
ing.
Self possessed and easily poised, she came
toward him with the old free stop and the i'm.
penetrable challenge on brow and lip-a little
warmer of tint, o little brighter Of eye than
when they parted. 1t was only when she had
come vary rlOsa tn him that ha pofa1 {Ic nv
ceeding richness of her attire, worn with the
same careless grace as the old-time flannel.
"Sho does become her fine raiment!" hia
thought exulted, ''and yet she would not seem
endimanchee in cloth Of gold.n
She paused beside his chair and looked
straight into his k%indling, deep blue eyes with
her W unwavering gaze.
"To think 1 meet you here!" he said; 81 was
sending you a letter to Ell Paraiso-see! Take
tread it now! Incoherent as it is, it will
speak as my lips cannot" 80
He put the paper into her reluctant hand.
81 would better not read it, 1 Think she said,
gently; "let me explain first
"Read!" he said, almost fiercely, and she
read slowly down tho page:
1t was ayear since | heard one word of you
(he letter ran, with that abrupt beginning
which signifies absolute a%bsorption) when Led.
yard writing, mentioned casually that in passe
ing through lei Paraiso he had met you there.
The next day l started west again. I an here,
but 1 dare not go farther until I send IN ad-
vance my explanation-not an excuse mind
ardly retreat when we parted out yonder-
you remember tho bleak and hopeless day.
The fight | fought that afternoon has disabled
me ever since; but also it has strengthened
me. Can you understand that? No, no wo-
man can understand what itmcant to have YOU
there before my eyes, within reach of my arms
and to leave you. To know your sordid sur.
roundings, to hear Of your privations, to see
you beating your wings against your prison
bars, and to know that the pleasures and lux
uries 1 would have heaped upon you must
render i'll unwilling tribute to a woman I abb
horred You did not know no ono on this
side knew-that / had a wife,. l married her
in London when | was justo of age. She was an
honest woman-I would have divorced her
else-but her coarse and vulgar nature
her and came over to New York She was
nestled in luxury and you were in actual want!
Now you understand the temptation l battled
with out yonder. Ihad a wild dream of carry
ing you away. with me. How you would have
reigned a little queen among the bright and
careless set 1 knew. just as that wonderful
adaptabillty will make you now the most fin
ished and gracious Of grandes danes. I had a
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 can offer
you now q g%uiltless future, for the m who
was my wife is dead. I am following this let
tertomorrow. Faithfully yours,
ONWARD LAMB.
She had grown very pale. She looked up with
q 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.
ssWhat is it, Madelon?"
No voice of youth ever hold half the tender
ness of that old mans tone.
She made a brave attempt to smile in reas-
surance.
"It was foolish-I am a little nervous to-day,
perhaps-and-Mr. Lamb has given me, in this
letter, ill news of an old friend. I will go away
and rest q little from the shock. But irstlet me
Introduce What, Mr.. Lamb? Have you al
ready met-my husband?"