The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-04-26

OLIVER'S BRIDE.
A STORY BY MRS. OLIPHANT.


she is very i'll and near her death, I do hope as
you'll listen to me. You was the first as she ever
took fancy to- she says But if you come oh
come at once, for there is not moment to be
lost. Yours truly, MATILDA"
He unfolded the telegram afterwards and read
that, IF you want to find her in life come at
oncen
Wentworth remarked with kind of horrible
calm. and even smile, that the telegraph
people had corrected the spelling This was the
summons for which he had left Grace. He had
read both more than once. Now that he had
obeyed the call he asked himself was it indeed
so necessary-ought he to have done it! There
had been something in the force of the contrast,
something in the happiness which was so much
more than he deserved, in the purity and noble
ness of the woman who had given him her hand
and who making her spotless atmosphere
his, that stung him with that intolerable,
remorseful pity, the impulse of which is
not to be resisted. Standing by the side
Of his bride. and on the edge of a
life altogether above his deserts, he had felt that
he could not resist this appeal to him. TO
refuse to speak word of comfort to dying
creature-he to whom God had been good
how was it possible2 Comfort! What comfort
had repented. But his repentance had been
paid; it had been richly recompensed. 1t was
setting open to him the doors of every happiness;
whereas to this sharer of his iniquties it was to
be followed only by suffering and death.
Wentworth had never been callous or hard
hearted at his worst, and now at his best, COM
passion and remorse overwhelmed him. That
be should receive that information, that appeal,
with Grace's hand IN his, gave his whole nature
shock. He felt that he must take himself
away out of her presence, and carry the recol-
lections, the scenes that rushed back upon his
mind. the image thus thrust before his eyes,
away from her at least, even if he did not an
swer the appeal He was hot of the iron fibre
of some men, He could not carry these two
images side by side.
Aud then how did he dare resist such an APP
peal '.You were the first" He had said to
himself that he was responsible for the ruin of
No other human creature. He was not
seducer. He had used no wiles to draw anyone
from the paths of virtue. Is that a defense
when life and death are in the balance, and
man is arraigned before the tribunal of his own
conscience When he went back into the re-
cesses of his memory and beheld all that was
there brought before him, as by flash of
lightning, and then remembered the position
in which he now stood, he covered his face
with his hands. He was ashamed to the bottom
of his soul. The way of transgresscrs is
hard To anyone who had known all the facts
it would have appeared that Oliver Wentworth
was the most striking example of unde-
served happiness. He had no right to all
the good things that had fallen into his lap He
had deserved very different return for all that
he had done; yet when he set out upon that rail
way Journey with the touch Of Grace's hand
still warm in his, the shame and misery in his
mind were not unfit representation of those
tortures which to most men are more real than
the fire and birthstone of the bottomless pit
How was the recollection of what was past ever
to be washed out of his memorya He might re-
pent-he had repented-and never so bitterly as
now; but how was he to get rid of the recollec-
toni In the great proclamation OF mercy 1T is
declared that God forgets as we'll as forglves
''Their sins and iniquities will remember no
more" But the sinner. how is he to forget
even when he believes that he is forgiven?
Yet, what he was doing was not shameful nor
sinful. 1t was mercy that carried him away
from all he loved to give what consolation he
could to a dying creature whom he had never
loved, who had been but the companion of his
amusements for q moment of alteration, pc
Rod which he looked back upon with astonish-
ment and disgust. How could he have forgotten
himself so fart How could he have fallen into
such depths? His mind was so revolted by the
him at the thought that it was impossible to
suppose that any softer sentiment lay concealed
| beneath Had he been less tender hearted
man he would probably have thrown the letter
| into the fire. and perhaps sent a little money
the common salve for all sufferings but his very
| happiness and elevation above those wretehed
| recellectons took from him the power to dismiss
| such an appeal in this way. And was it not a
certain atonement, at least Offering Of painful
service such as the heart of man believes in,
whatever may be its creed, to do thisi The
money he could have sent would have cost him
nothing-this cost him what was incalculable, a
price almost beyond bearing, His agitation
calmed a little as he pursued these thoughts
He could do her no good, poor creature; but if it
pleased her. if it eased little the last steps
toward the gravel
| He arrived in London late on a wet and cold
spring night; in town there was little visible of
| the shivering growth which makes a sudden
| chill in spring almost more miserable than
| winter, but the streets were wet aud cleaning
with squalid reflections. and the crowds even in
| the busiest thoroughfare thinned and sub
| dued. Wentworth took cab anddrove through
| part of London with which he was
! not familiar through line upon line of
! poor little streets, each one exactly like its
neighbors lighted with few lamps. with a faint
| occasional shop window, few and far between,
and with only at long intervals a dark figure
under an umbrella going up or down. The end
less extent of this network of streets, all poor.
mean, dark, yet decent the homes of myriads
unknown, gave him sense of WEAKNESS that
many miles of country would not have produced.
At last the cab stopped before one of the narrow
DOORS 1anked with the little iron railing the usual
paror window overlooking narrow little area.
! In the room above light was burning. and all
the rest of the house dark. In the parlor win
! dow was square printed advertisement of some
! trade just visible by the lamplight and paint
| ed board of the same description was attached
to the ratings. The door was opened by
| young woman with a candle in her hand,
which nearly blew out with the entry of the
blast of night air, and fiickered in her face so
that 1t was difficult to make out her features
She gave little cry, ''Oh, it's Mr.. WENTWORTH
/ tions with which Wentworth realized his posi-
tion known and expected in this house, going
up the narrow stair which was all that separated
| him from the sick ROOM from the dying woman
between whom and himself he was thus acknewl-
aduinu a i .,a.aro b. i