Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1885-04-25
CHAPTER VI.

that hardly care to live.'
CHAPTER VI
This was the sad story that my siste
told me of her married life, although
l had partly guessed it before. Fo
three or four months, while the novel
ty of his love lasted, Sir Victor ha,
! been all that was kind and amiable
but gradually old habits regained Their
influence over him; he grew tired O
his self-restraint, and my poor sistel
soon found that her husband was OF /;
coarse, common, even brutal nature
There was nothing irH him DO win love
or esteem. He was not truthful, he
was vain and boastful, his temper wa,
something quite new and terrible tC
poor Kate. He soon lost the restrai n
ing influence of her presence; he
swore and cursed until she became
terrified at the sound OF his voice
Even then he would have occasional
fits of love and DEVOTION; but those be-
came less and less frequent. Nothing
restrained him, not even the presence
of invited guests. For her own sake
poor Kate declined all society; she
who had been a belle and queen,
could not endure to be humbled as he
humbled her When it was all too
late, how bitterly she repented not
having taken Allan's warning and her
fathers advice! She had obstinately
persisted in placing full trust in this
man who was total stranger to her;
she had been obstinate, and would not
wait to see more of him before she
! placed the happiness of her life in his
hands.
"Ah, Clary," she cried, chow bitterly
I am punished But for my boy,
could not, would not, live--life is IA
dreary burdenl have sometimes to
watch nearly the whole night through
he does not like the servants to sit
up for him-and then if he is late and
has drunk too much, what have / not
to bearl Oaths and curses, and foul
words the meaning of which l do not
even understand, are showered upon
me, who never heard an unkind word
from my fathers lips! Itremble if he
goes near my boy; in his wild way he
loves him, yet in his fury he would
spare nothing or no one. Ali, Clary,
have wept until the fountain of my
tears seems dried up! | have borne it
all for the sake of that time when |
did love him and his love made the
whole world beautiful to me; but what
can [ do, what shall do if he tries to
punish me through my child p
could only kiss the weeping face.
Then she went on:
"If | had only known the truth about
that poor dog Lion, would never hive
married Victor | heard it two yeals
ago-never mind from whom. Poor
Lion loved his master, who took great
pride in training him. One day Vic
tor went with his keeper and dog into
Horst Wood. He was trying TO teach
the poor animal something it could
not or would not learn. lie flew into
one of his fits of furious rage, and actu
ally beat the faithful creature to death,
in spite of the entreatiespf the keeper.
Allan Charlton was near at the time,
and, hearing a noise, came to see what
was the matter. Victor had vented his
fury then; he stood over his dead Ia
vorite with the broken stick in his
hand, and looked, when Allan saw
him, most heartily ashamed of himself
Allan did not quite know the truth of
the affair, although he guessed it. Vic
tor accused Allan of being spy upon
his actions; he was afraid Allan would
tell, and for some time he Was both
ashamed and anxious. Oh, Clary, that
one incident reveals his character so
plainly that, if l had known it, should
have been spared the misery. Worst
OF all. 1 no longer love him; when /
ceased to esteem | ceased to love.
live in unutterable fear-I am more
than wretched | cannot believe that
/ was ever light-hearted and gay. In
my home, Clary, there is never Il kind
or pleasant word spoken"
As [ sat listening to my sister, lar
away in the woods / heard the sound
of pistol-shot | wondered to myself
who was out shooting at that hour, for
it was now long past twilight. | long
ed to go home, and yet | could not,
dared not leave the trembling, weep
ing girl alone Gradually she became
calmer, the violent, passionate weeping
ceased.
"Clary," she said, al have opened my
heart to you, for | must have spoken
or died; but darling, guard my secret,
even rs guard it myself repeat
one word to my father or any one else.
Promise me that"
promised; and, to soothe her,
began talking of our happy Venetian
life
Presently heard the noise Of many
footsteps, OF doors opening and shut |
ting, of heavy feet tramping up the.
staircase; then Lisette hastily entered
the room.
"Whe'e is my lady? Oh, how is
she ?" she asked, in great agitation.
"Better now. Iisette," | said, won
dering at her hurried, agitated man.
ner.
AS soon as my sister caught sight of
her she snrung up.
@Oh, Lisette," she cried, what Is it
what is the matter? Is my boy
worse ?'
"No, my Lady," was the low reply. at
is not the child; it Is"
"Speak out, Lisette," | commanded;
"you are torturing your mistress!'
at is Sir Victor, my lady" she said.
"He has been found shot dead in the
woods :"
I felt thankful for the deadly uncon-
sciousness that seized my sister.
laid her down gently; and, leaving her
to the care of her maid, ! went to see
what had realIy happened. | could
make out nothing clearly from the
terrified domestIcs, who were grouped
together and looked frightened out of
their senses.
"Where is Saunders / asked-he
was poor Sir Victor's valet.
With his assistance discovered that
Sir Victor had left the house about
five in the afternoon. He had said
nothing of whittier he was going, leav-
ing orders for dinner to be ready as
usual at half-past seven. Nothing more
had been seen or heard of him until
one of the keepers, hearinga shot fired |
after twilight, went in the direction OF
the sound, thinking there were poach-
ers about To his untold horror, he
saw Sir Victor lying on the road, his
dead face upturned to the evening
sky. When the keeper examined him,
he found that he had been shot through
the heart: so that death must have
been instaptapeops. The man hastily
procured assistance, and the body of
the unfortunate baronet now lay in
his room, the room he had quilted
faYn