The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-05-03

for him, the youth who brought the message
within the area rails, the mother with the blind
little pulled aside in the room above, looking
come when he appeared.
II knew as you'd come" cried Matilda, land
so did she; but mother was frightened bit, not
knowing you, Oi-Mr. Wentworth, like we do.
Oliver grew sick as he stepped into the narrow
passage. The half sound of his own name which
she had not ventured to pronounce fully, seemed
to open another vista before him. He would be
Oliver to this woman, too member Of the
family. He went in scarcely knowing where he
went. In the parlor was the clergyman, who
met him severely, saying that he had been kept
waiting for nearly half an hour
'And my time is precious not like that of an
idlerr He was severe young man in the High
Church uniform thin and meagre with overwork
and earnestness. II am glad" he said, shat
you have made up your mind to do justice to
your victim at the last"
my victimln said Oliver.
But what was the use of any explanation He
began to recognize that in ordinary parlance she
was his VICTIM and that it might be considered
an act of justice; and also that to explain to a
severe purist, man burning with the highest
canons and sentiments of morality, how such a
thing could be without any victim in the matter,
or any personal wrong, however hideous the sin.
would be an offense the more. He stood by almost
stupidity while the young priest, with his keen,
clear-cut, churchman-lke face, put on his sur
plice and prepared himself for the ceremony;
then, with sinking of heart beyond descrip-
ton. followed him up the narrow wooden
stairs, which creaked at every step. He said to
himself that this was the fend endowed
with every virtue who had put it into the wom-
ans head to drag him to his undoing; but so
miserable was he that he felt no anger, no re-
sentiment against the meddling priest as men
are apt to do. He recognized that it was no
doubt the young clergvman's nature; tn at he
thought it his duty: that to this man he himself
was a vile seducer OF women and the poor victim
| upstairs, a confding, loving girl, whose ia me
had been ruined and her heart brok a. These
] thoughts were SO strangely out of keeping with
/! the facts, and he regarded them with such a
dazed impartiality, that when he entered the
room in which this dreadful ceremony was to
| take place there was smile upon his lips But
| the smile was soon driven away by the sight
which now met his eyes. In the soft suffuson of
| the daylight the dying woman was scarcely so
CHASTITY as by the light of the candle the night
before. but the spectacle she presented was more
dreadful than anything that Oliver had been
| able to conceive. The decorations of bride
dressed for her wedding, or, rather, a hideous
| travesty of those decorations surrounded the
worn and sunken face Some dreadful artificial
| fowers-orange blossom, of all things in the
world, no idea of the meaning of it being in their
minds but only grotesque acquaintance with its
general use at weddings-were placed in a brist-
ling wreath about her head. The pink ribbon
was Withdrawn, and bows of ghostly white
placed at her throat and hands; and over all
| there was thrown a veil coarsely worked with
| huge flowers, through which the cleaning eyes,
| the mouth distended with its CHASTITY smile,
| showed like living dea h.
A cry of horror burst from Oliver in spite of
himself; and even the rigid priest was moved.
why did you do her up like thatl" he said in
sharp tone to Matilda, who stood admiring her
handiwork.
The poor creature herself had a look of de-
| lighted vanity in her terrible cleaning eyes.
| The mother had mirror in her hands, in which
| she had been displaying her own appearance to
the bride. The bride! Oliver turned away and
| hid his face in his hands.
81 cannot-I cannot carry out this farce y he
said
| The curate placed his hand upon Wentworth s
| arm. You must, he said, with his severe, un-
plying voice. Whose fault is it that this is a
farcef Stand forward, sir and give this poor
wreck, this creature you have ruined, what com
| pensation you can at the last"
Oliver raised his eyes to his uncompromising
| Judge with q wonder which raralyzed all effort.
"You are mistaken" he said; but to pause now
was impossible: hs went forward doggedly and
| placed himself by the bed, and listened with a
| dull horror, as under spell, to those words
| those words which he had thought of under so
| different meaning-words of solemn Joy and
| devotion. words that could only be endured for
| the sake of the pledge they sanctifed. He
| listened, and he took his part like a man in a
| dream. He had provided no ring, and the cere-
mony was interrupted till an old, shabby little
trinket set with some discolored turquoises, was
4 tod -
at last, and she was his wife--his wife! She put
| back the veil with nervous movement and in
clined her head towards his. Was that necessa
| ry, too9 was there to be no end to these exact
| ions? ''Oliver" she cried.
He turned from her sick to the heart ssTake
| these fooleries away-don't you see how horrb Die
| it ISL" he said to Matilda, and hurried down
stairs, flying from the look and the touch of the
woman who oh heaven! was now his WIFE
| The little priest followed him. He was as
| severe as ever. ''You have done something in the
way of atonement," he said, shut If this is how
you are to follow it up / warn you that such ar
atonement will not be accepted. 1t must be
| from the heart"
Oliver turned upon him. He seemed to be
coming to life again after the dismal paralytic
| fit through which he had passed. did it ever
happen to you, he said. ito make mistaken
| The clergyman had begun to take off his sur
| plice. He turned round in the act, ard looked
at Wentworth. But the question did not daunt
him as it would have daunted many men. "Pos-
sibly," he replied, though very seldom-as a
man. In discharge of my Office make no mis-
| takes
"You have made one now, said the bride
| groom. ''Oh, do not excuse myself l know
| well enough how hideous, how paltry how mis-
| cradle is vice-but it was not for me to make
atonement. l was no deceiver no seducer-"
you are man Of education and intelligence, "
said the other, in his keen, clear tones, land
she was an ignorant. foolish girl. Is not that
enough-did you over meet on equal termsl And
! now you are not on equal terms, for you are
we'll and strong and she is dying-perhaps with
| only few hours to live"
Oliver drew back without word 1t was the
argument that had moved him at first, which he
had found irresistible He at the height of hap
piness, and she dying; but he was not at the
height of happiness A more miserable
man could not be. How was he to explain this
| days days work when all was over, when he was
free. Was it possible that Grace would under
i stand him, that she would still accept his hand