Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1885-01-31
MY r FRIENDS WIFE.

"It is no use, Tom, I cannot rid
myself OF the feeling. 1t tortures
me at times beyond endurance.
Perhaps am jealous, as you say t.
But you shall judge for yourself.
Come with US to the theatre to-
night, and IL you can give me your
word Of honor that you notice notf-
ing unusual In this infatuation OF
my wife for Claude Devine, i will
try to believe that ii is merely be-
is anxious to add her piauditS to
those of his many admirers"
my dear fellow | here inter-
posed, 81 think you. are working
yourself into fever for mere chi
mera Of the brain. Your wife is
the last lady / shonld Judge capable
of conceiving an illicit passion for
any man. And have heard that
| this rising star-CIaude Devine-is
not given to kneeling at the femi-
nine shrine; in fact. that he is vast
ly bored by all the alteration he is
the recipient of from his numerous
| female satellites" 1aA 81
"God Forbid exclaimed my
friend, ''that i should suspect my
wife of anything beyond great adj
miration for the actor but she is
young, and he is undeniably hand
some and fascinating, i dare say,
in the eyes of a woman, while am
considerably her elder, and was
never celebrated for a superabun-
dance of beauty"
"How is it," asked, "that you
engaged a box for tonight? 1t
would have been easy enough for
you to have made some excuse"
"Why is it," that the moth hut-
ters around my candle? To tell the
truth ii is not easy for me to refuse
her anything. I have never for
gotten the strange, startled look
that then shone in her eyes. II Was
small matter, too. You know the
dislike l have always entertained
toward private theatricals. have
no objection to visiting theater
and making one of the audience,
but / protest against being mixed
up with anything of the kind.
Laura and / had been engaged
about a week, think, when the
ladies in the house where my be-
trOthed and her aunt boarded, took
it into their heads to get up one of
these amateur affairs, and were for
inveigling Laura into their plans.
Miss Spruce, Laura's aunt, smiling
ly acquiesced. She had never had
the heart, she informed me, TO re-
fuse her niece anything, from the
time her dying sister had left the
child in her charge. When Laura
mentioned to me about taking part |
in these theatricals it happened that
had been considerably riied mo-
ment before by overheaTing one of
our boarders, a brainless idiot, di-
lating to ditto companion about |
the charms of my intended, who |
was to figure as Juliet to his 'Ro-
meo,' in tableaux, heaverred con-
sequently was not In very pleas |
ant frame of mind to converse upon |
the subject, and answered somewhat |
hotly: Sc.
'If you have any respect for me,
Laura, you will keep out OF such |
exhibitions"
"Why. Philip! what harm is |
there in them ?'' was her surprised |
question. l |
'Harmp i repeated, hastily, Il |
had rather see any one belonging to |
me dead, than connected in any |
way with theatricals.'
'She turned so white at my words /
that / thought she was about to |
faint, but she Just said quietly:
every well, Philip, it shall be as |
you WISH -t
sit was a week or so. though, be- |
fore she seemed to be quite herself. |
Since then not cloud has come TO |
mar our happiness until-Would |
to God / could stifie these vague
fears"
The door opened, and as sweet a |
vision as would e'en least my eyes /
upon, paused upon the threshold. |
Clothed in something white, soft |
and filmy, that seemed to float in |
graceful folds about her slender fig
ure. Crimson roses blushing upon
her breast, and nesting eoquettish-
ly in the shining braids of her dark /
hair, the vivid scarlet of her lips /
outrivaling the bowers hue-Mrs. |
Philip Stanton made picture that |
an artist would have reveled in. A |
smile lit up the dusky depths OF |
her beautiful eyes as, crossing the |
room, she bade me welcome; then
as her small fingers toyed with the
silver fringe of her opera cloak, she
addressed her husband with:
"Had we not better be going, |
Philip? OF course Mr.. Harley will
accompany u4," "this with glance |
at myself, followed by, 81 shall be
pleased to have you-I do so dis
like being late-on his benefit night,
too"
Philip had already left the room
to don his overcOat, so did not |
catch his wife's last words, which |
produced rather unpleasant effect |
upon me. She, however, appeared |
unconscious Of this mistake of |
words, for such / was convinced it
was.
We arrived at the theater just as
the curtain rose on the first act, but |
it was not until near the close of the |
scene that the star appeared. AT |
his entrance delIcate color crept |
into Mrs StantOn's cheeks, and her
eyes fairly sparkled with excitement
rs she leaned eagerly forward, ap-
parently forgetfUl OF everything but |
the actor, who stood, unable to pro-
ceed with his lines, owing to the
deafening applause that greeted
him,
Philip, growing CHASTITY as he no.
ted the rapt attention OF his wife,
shrunk back out of sight behind
the curtains of our box. AT the end
of the second act there were loud |
calls for the star, and as he stood |
gracefully bowling his acknowledge |
ments, his gaze for an instant was
directed straight toward our box,
and / could have sworn n look OF
recognition passed between him
and Mrs. Stanton. The next mo-
ment the curtain had shut the actor
from view. The exquisite bloom of /
Mrs. Stanton's cheek had deepened, |
and was decidedly puzzled by the |
proud, happy light that shOne in
her eyes, as, turning to us, she said:
"Oh, isn't he grand I" The
rest of the sentence died upon her
lips as she caught sight of her hus-
bands white face, and little ner-
vousIy she added: "What is the
matter? Are you i'll, Philip? Shall
we go h0me?'
With forced laugh he replied:
"Matter! Why, what should be
This place is confoundedly hot. / /
think I'll step out bit. II Pm not