The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1885-12-10
MY WIDOW.

little parsonage you ever saw. That,
of course, was before she became my
widow.
How could she become my widow,
when I'm here alive and fiourishing.
to tell my own story? just wait until
I've finished, and you will see
she was very pretty. too, with pink
apple cheeks. and eyes of that pecu-
liar translucent beryl-green that you
see so seldom, a slender 1.-the figure,
and a step as noiseles5 as if she wore
the famous shoes of silence. There
was something cat-like about her-at
least, so Fitz-Brown said. but Fitz-
Brown was always prejudiced against
Lucilla.
depend upon it. old fellow, she's
married you for your money" said
Fitz-Brown. at doesn't stand to reas-
on that girl of eighteen should tie
herself TO fat old heather of fifty-four
unless there is some motive lurking un-
derneath.
''Fitz-Brown," | broke in irritably,
you're a foolr'
Il may be a fool" answered that
gentleman calmly, "but single fool
is not so bad as married fool, in any
point of view you choose to take 1t. y
There was no use arguing with Fitz-
Brown. He was stubborn, opinion
ated old fellow at best, and he was de-
termined not to like Lucilla from the
very first How he did exult when he
came down to my office and told me
that Harry Sykes was spending the
evening with Lucilla-that same reck-
less young good-for-naught who had
been wont to hang around her before
we were married. And Lucilla had told
me she was going to take tea with her
mother.
Nevertheless l put on bold face.
"Well, let him spend the evening""
said |. where's the harmp"
Yes; but-but the curtains were not
drawn, and--and it isn't necessary for
him to sit on the same sofa, with his
arm round her waist.
| went straight home, but Mr.. Sykes
had departed, and Lucilla was darning
my stockings by the tire.
.'Lucilla," said l sternly, Il must
forbid any more of Henry Sykes's Wis
its here.''
Yes, JOSIAH said my wife; Harry
is rather troublesome.
''And you will please receive no more
young gentlemen visitors in my ab-
sencc"
mo, Josiah"
The fact is, Lucilla, l am afraid you
read TOO many novels.
Perhaps do" said my wife meek
ly.
Il will bring up set of Rollins
Ancient History tomorrow and some
sermons for you to read. All lighter
literature must be banished at once"
Certainly, Josiah. y
Could Fitz-Brown himself have eX-
pected more complete and dutiful ac-
quaintance in all my demands?
Lucilla was preternaturally affection
ate the next two or three days. She
hung round me in the most bewitchine
manner, sewed my shirt-buttons on,
ran for my slippers, and would insist
on toasting the bread herself, until her
pretty face was the color of a scarlet
tomato, ''because cook is so careless,
and dear Josiah likes his toast Drowned
just so"
"What shall order for dinner, dearp
The butchers man is here. Steaks or
a roasting piece?"
81 don't care" l answered mechan-
ically. "Suit yourself"
But you know your wishes are my
pleasure, love-"
Steaks then"
''And about the pudding, sweetP
Shall | tell cook to make a real old
English plum, or would you prefer
baked suet?"
Really it was very nice to hear ones
wishes consulted in this sort of man
ner. And when l departed from the
office, Lucilla herself stood on tiptoe
to tie the worsted muller round nv
neck.
For if you should take cold, dear
est. and anything should happen, it
would break your dear little wife's
heart"
Under these harmonious circumstan-
ces that sudden voyage to India came
like thunderbolt across the serene
horizon of our matrimonial life.
"How shall live without you six
months, my dearest?" sobbed Lucilla,
her lovely beryl eyes swimming in
tears.
But we cannot always control ne
cessity, and, after mournful farewell,
in which my wife fairly succumbed and
went into Mysteries. departed on he
cessary business for the firm of Miner
and Mortlake,1 l myself being the afore-
said Mortlake.
How it happened that my name was
enormously lugged into the details of
that massacre in which the barbarous
of hn
eign population, when | was actually
ten miles farther up the country, |
never knew. and then my long fever,
during which | found it impossible to
write or obtain an amanuensis, served
to complicate matters. When | re-
covered l resolved to proceed imme-
.diately back to my native land.
..rll not write" | mentally decided.
s'I'll surprise Lucilla, bless her dear
little heart! How delighted she will
bern
So took passage in the first Eng
lish steamer that sailed, pretty well
cured of all my romantic ideas of trav-
cling in foreign climes, and thoroughly
convinced that when man has lived
fifty odd years in the world his best
place is at home.
Halfway across, we hailed an Eng
lish craft. outward-bound, and there
was an exchange of newspapers and
other civitities.
As unfolded London paper, scarce
ly more than six weeks old, saw,
under the obituary notices, my own
name.
So was supposed to be dead.
A curious sensation, like the running
oil. cold water, crept down my spinal
column-an involuntary shudder
1t is sudden shock to read of your
own death. and calculate how long you
have been under ground, and not by
any means an agreeable one.
II don't think Pm dead said /.
stretching out my arms and legs. Civ
ing myself pinch, and feeling the
strong pulses that projected healthy
currents through my veins, land yet
this evidence is certainly very convinc-
ing-that | was murdered By barbarous
natives on the night of the 25th of May.