Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1885-10-24

AsHINGTON, D. G., s
am put in my grave? In spite of your caution
see well enough who Is waiting to take my
out Of the gutter. Ring the joy bells yea
hence at the birth Of a son and heir. No COCO
waa come h oft Conscience will crush you, I'M
when Death stands near you. beckoniug as b.
now beckons me, and trembie in vain-r'
leaned forward with a word Of cxcnlpation' a an
sntrea tres for pardon on his trembling lips. Bu
ready spent itself. Mrs. Harden fell back un
conscious on the pillow, and as he caught her in
his arms, he saw that the end had come The
faithful Anna hearing his cry for help, hastened
to the bedside to find her mistress dead.
III.
So enticlng the warmth Of that luxurious fur
which her patron had settled her that Con.
stance Emery felt ready to browse But her
brain . was too busy with the future to indulge
to think out the future as it opened itself to heI
charging gaze Perhaps the girl was not de-
Vulgarity may indeed be piece of ill-fortune,
as much as wry nose or misshapen foot; only
to the rarely endowed ones is it possible to
| heredity. Nf A
In the midst of foolIshly bewildertng dreams
OF silks ana trinkets, carriages and lacaueys
boudofrs and fashionable receptions she was
aroused by the abruptest intrusion. Rising to
|
| must be, she was fain to clasp his hand to Whis-
per an endearing word, to greet him fondly as
she had done surreptitiously scores of times be-
| lore. But at glance toward her patron her
heart stood still. Clever she was not. feminine
tact she possessed In moderate degree, yet she
realized In a moment without Knowing the
cause, the nature of the transformation that
had come over him. She stood aghast, not ven
turing step forward, lacking courage even so
He came close up to the table by which she
stood, holding in his hand small strip OF paper
barred with pink.
| Constance he said, in that brief hard un.
answerable voice she knew SO we'll, though
now used for the first time to her-"Constance,
| cannot marry you. I shall never marry again.
| Here is compensation for a broken promise"
He turned up the lamp in order that she
mlgnt see what he had given her. There 1t was
| plain enough, nothing could be palmer. q check
| for live thousand pounds
The astounded girl was dumb, and he hardly
meaning of his words Something else he had
| to say, however, Enthusiastically clear and to the
ut will be better for you not to stay here any
| longer. have ordered coffee to be ready by
SIX o'clock. and the brougham at halfpast, in
I drive you to the station and give you q first
class ticket Mind and be ready
Still not word from the scarlet-cheeked,
m0rtihed, trembling girl. Had any one half an
hour before assured Constance Emery that she
should thus stand silent and abasbed in the
presence of this man she would have laughed
| the prognostication to scorn.
But with that quick, unerring instinct of the
dull, the instinct born of tear and self-preserva-
| ton, she now recognized the fact for herself.
| There was nothing she could say to soften him
| even were she mistress of herself, biandisil-
! mems, exnortaton, tears, would all prove in
| tide.
Something had happened - she vaguely
guessed the truth-tO shut him from her to
| harden him toward her forever
| Whilst she stood thus, shrinking, irresolute,
10 get out syaoe yet feeling
| other significant act told her clearly enough h,
were proofs still wanting OF what was in Mr.
Harden's mind. The rich fur-ined cloak in
which he had SO tenderly enveloped her Just an
] hour ago, lay on the ground. In her startled
| surprise, it had fallen from her shoulders. She
now saw hlln pick 1t up, and, with a gesture
| not to be mistaken, lay it, carefully folded. on
| his wife's fayorite chair at the extreme end of
the room. That cloak she was not to touch
| again. Then he left her, in a moment more to
| return. Constance Emery looked up, and once
more her heart stood still. He had repented Of
! this cruel abruptness, this undeserved cold.
ness, and was come to whisper a tender word
| IN her ear, to console her for what he had per-
h hap been been forced into by death scene. He
came back TO the table, leaving the door ajar
rake good care of that piece of paper" was
| all ne said as he pointed to the check.
| indeed gone. She heard him go to his closet on
| the same floor and locked himself in: that was
| a sign also she had learned to understand.
! Nothlng remained but to do as she was bid.
After all, he was master in his own house. She
| might weep, demonstrate, implore, she could
not stay against his will
Humiliation, mortified vanity and dismay
| were succeeded by other feelings. On the whole
perhaps, her sudden departure would not create
much talk IN the neighborhood and in the
Kitchen. She was young and no relation
would 1t not be quite natural for Mr. Harden,
In the eyes OF the world her benefactOr only, to
! send her away? And certainly as far as her own
| feelings and inclinatiOns were concerned, she
would rather be anywhere than in house with
the blinds down. and the hush of death reign
ing over 1t. In her heart of hearts, but for the
| errand, she was really glad to go.
Ana lastly, that check, when she grew calm
| a fhara aro1 In
aspect OF things. She had no idea OF Mr.. Har-
| dens real wealth, but the sum he had Just
given her in lieu of a wedding ring seemed to
her simple eyes enormous. Whatever happened
| she was great parsonage now. 1t was charac-
teresic of the GIRL as she deposited the check at
| the bottom of her trunk, and sullenly made her
| preparations for departure, that she never for
single moment regretted the affection Of this
| man or what had passed muster for his affec-
ton. She only thought of his rough batteries
| his unflgurative compliments, his homely adj
| miration. But all these, and much more surely
| should She shed a tear for one who could part
rom rom h 1- then without handclasp, smile, a
should learn to hate him.
| True enough, punctual to the moment, Will
! nam waited in the porch with the brougham; a
moment later and a woman's trunk was placed
on the top, slender, girlish figure wearing q
small crimson hat with white feather and
| tight-ftting crimson mantle bordered with fur,
stepped in, the door was shut and as if divin-
ing his masters wishes, the old man servant
drove the carriage swiftly toward the lodge
| gate.
w.
What the rich man did with his inner life
from that time none knew. Outwarlly it was
clear for all to see, model of austereness recti-
tude and rigid adherence to duty. Mr. Harden
made no affection of piety, of conversion, as the
phrase goes. He did not take TO reading his
Bible, or excessive church-going. The exactions
OF conscience and custom in this latter respect
had ever been fulfilled by him.
But In his lonely, remOrse-stricken widow
hood he took to good company. Alike In look
dress and manner, he affected the air of a gen.
tleman. AS Ii TO challenge the world moreover.
10 say syllable against his character he gene.
rally had to reside with him some needy cler-
derS, with whom he took his meals and spent
his evenings over chess and backgammon He
gave clerical dinner-parties, too, delightine to
assemble round his luxurious board all the
clergy of the neighborhood, we'll pleased also.
In turn, to accept invitations to their houses
and he initiated into what is called good So
ciety generally. The world, of course well
coined the millionaire into their ranks
he Nigh have married half q dozen
times, to his social and moral advancement
had he pleased. From the first, however. it
was evident to all that, whatever John Harden
might do tor the church and society he
would never marry again. Clerical ladies might
get money out OF him. No woman would ever
persuade him to purchase q wedding ring
These distractions relieved the tedium of soil.
tude, and If he did not look cheerful at least he
invariably wore an expression of satisfaction
He might we'll look satisfied! He was satisfy
Ing himself, in other words as he Thought bal
ancing his moral affairs, and putting himself
ON the right side of the banking book
Nor was the widower forsaken in moments