The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1885-02-11

L feit sure this would ever be / would
wait without murmur, if needs be.
TIL our hair has grown gray.
l have this poor cOnSOlatiOn-what-
ever the effect of our marriage NAV
have been upon my life. 1t has. at least.
not made my wife's lot a sadder one.
Her days | am sure must be brighter
than those when she was under the su-
; peTyIslon OF that terrible old Italian wo-
man. Priscilla loves her and pets her
Ike child whilst well. l do everv-
thing | can which fancy NAV give her
such pleasure as she is capable of feel
ing. Sometimes. not always. she seems
to appreciate my efforts, and once or
twice she has taken my hand and raised
II TO her lips as if in gratitude. She is
beginning 10 love NE as child NAV
love its father. as some weak helpless
creature may love its protector. This
Is a poor Tec0mpenSe, but | am thank
ful even for this.
So, in our quiet household the DAYS
pass by and the mcnths glide away until
the winter is over and the laburnums
and lilacs in the little plots in front of
+ houses IN the suburbs are in bud.
II Is fortunate that l am fond of
[ books Without that taste life would
/ indeed be colorless. | have not the
4 heart to leave Pauline alone and seek
society on my own account. l spend
many hours every day reading and
/ studying, whilst my wife sits in the
same room silent unless | address a re-
( mark 10 her.
1t is matter of great griefto me
/ that am almost entirely debarred from
! hearing the sound of music. | soon dis
covered that its effect upon Pauline was
| preJudlclal. The notes which soothed
/ me, in some way seemed to irritate her
and make her uneasy. So, unless she is
/ out somewhere with old Priscilla and |
am alone, the piano is unopened; the
! muslc-bo0ks lie unused. Only those
who love music as l love it can under
/ stand how great a deprivation this is
I to me.
| One morning as l sat alone I was told
! that gentleman wished to see me. He
! gave the servant no name. but instruct
/ ed her TO say that he WAS from Geneva. |
| knew 1t must be Macari. Ny first i'm
/ pulse was TO send back word that |
would not see him. Again and again,
/ since our last meeting, his words had
/ come back to me-thOse words which
/ limited at something in Pauline's past
| which her uncle had an object in con-
cealing. But each time / thought of
them l decided they were only The mali
ciOuS inslnuation of a disappointed man,
who having failed to win the woman he
loved, wished to make his favored rival
suspicious and unhappy. feared moth
| ing he could say against my wife, but
disliking the man, | hesitated before
giving instructions for bis admlttance.
\ ct Macari was the only link between
Pauline and her past: CeneTi | felt sure
l should never see again; this man was
the only one remaining from whom it
was possible to learn anything respect
ing my wife. The one person whose
appearance could, by any chance, Stimu-
late that torpid memory, and, perhaps,
influence the state of her mind by sug-
costing. no matter how dimly, scenes
and events in which he must have play
ed part So thinking, | decided that
the man should be admitted, and. more
over that he should be brought face to
face with Pauline. If he wished to do
so he might speak to her of old days,
even old passiOn-anything that might
aid her to pick up and retTace those
dropped threads of memory.
He entered my room and greeted me
with what | knew to be assumed cordi-
ality. | felt, in spite of the hearty grasp
he gave my hand, that he meant his
visit to bode no good to me. What did
l care why he came? | wanted him for
purpose. With this end in view, what
mattered the tool, if | could keep it
from turning in my hand and wound
ing me-and this was to be seen.
| met him with greeting almost as
cordial as his own; l begged him TO be
seated, then rang for wine and cigars.
you see | have kept my promise,
Mr.. Vaughan" he said. with smile.
Yes. l trusted you would do so.
Have you been long in England?"
Only couple of days"
"HOw long do you stay"
until l atm called abroad again.
Things have gone wrong with us there.
l must wait until the atmosphere has
quoted down."
l looked at him inquiring'y.
Il fancied you knew my trade" he
said.
Il suppose you are a conspirator-I
don't use the word Extensively; it is the
only one l can think Of"
Yes. ConSpirator-rege generator
apostle of freedom, whatever you like"
But your country has been free for
some years"
"Other countries are not free. I work
for them. Our poor friend Ceneri did
the same, but his last days work is
done"
is he dead? l asked, startled.
Dead to all of us. | cannot give you
particulars; but a few weeks after you
left Geneva he was arrested IN St.Peters-
burg. He lay in prison for months
awaiting his trial. 1t has come off,
hear"
"Well, what has happened to him?"
"What always happens-our poor
( friend is at this moment ON his way to
Siberia condemned to twenty years hard
labor in the mines"
Although 1 bore no particular love
toward Ceneri, l shuddered as | heard
his fate.
"And you escaped" 1 said
Naturally, orr should not be here
| smoking your very good cigars and sip
/ ping your capital claret."
l was Disguised at the Indifference
with which he spoke of his friends mis-
| fortune. If it seemed horrible to me to
think of the man working in the Siber-
/ ian mines, what should it have seemed
/ to his follow-conspirator?
Nov, Mr.. Vaughan" said the latter,
with your permission | viii enter en-
business matters with you. l am afraid
shall surprise you"
Let me hear what you have to say"
First of all l must ask you what
Ceneri told you about myself!"
HE told me your name"
Nothing of my family? He did not
/ tell you my true name any more than
he told you his own? He did not tell
you it was March, and that Pauline and
I are brother and sister,"
I was astonished at this announce
ment. In the face of the doctor asser-
ton that this man had been in love with
Pauline, | did not for moment believe
it: but thinking it better to hear his tale
out. | simply replied, "He did not"
VERY well-then | Will tell you my
history as briefly as l can. l am known
by many names abroad, but my right
name is Anthony March. My father
and Pauline's married DR.. Ceneri's SIS
ter. He died young. and left the whole
of his large property to his vie. aDso-
lutely. She died some time afterward,
and in turn fteverything IN my uncle s
hands as sole trustee for my sister and
myself. You know what became OF the
money. Mr. Vaughan"
Or. Ceneri told me-" | said, impress
ed in spite of myself by the correct way
in which he marshaled his facts.
Eyes, it was spent for Italy. 1t paid
for the keep of many a red shirt, armed
many true italian. All our fortune
was spent by the trustee. l have never
blamed him. When L knew where it
! had gone / freely forgave him."
Let us say no more about it, then. !"
; light. Victor Emmanuel's government
is now firmly established. Italyis free.
and will grow richer every year. Now,
Mr.. Vaughan, my idea is this. | be
lieve. if the facts of the case were laid
. before the king, something might be
done. believe, if l, and you on behalf
of your wife, were to make it known
that Ceneri's appropriation of our for
tunes for patriotic purposes had left us
penniless, a large portion of the money
if not all, would be freely returned to
us. You must have friends in England
who would assist you in gaining the ear
of King Victor | have friends in Italy.
Garibaldi, for instance, would voueh
for the amount paid into his hands by
DR. Ceneri."
His tale was plausible, and, after all
his scheme was not altogether vision
airy.
1 was beginning to think he might
: really be my wife's brother. and that
Ceneri had, for some purpose of his
own, concealed the relationship.