The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1885-07-16

s the morning room that jutted out
: giving view of the balance of the
building.
/ BY and by they went down the
:. steps, side by side, into the garden
e and heard him say, in rather 8
low voice:
''He must stop work and rest q
little, Mrs. Fame. He complains OF
a pricking sensation in his right
side and shoulder. 1 do not like
| that. 1t is rather unfavorable
, Still, with our united care, and with
rest, l think we shall bring him
) rOnnd."
And Ste answered with a smile.
could not see that, and believe
that she was young and sanguInp,
and that she never realized her
husbands danger. How could |
give her credit for this when l sus-
pected her-suspected her as fOully
as l could-that it was not Gerald
whom she loved, but-Mark Perez
val.
Gerald was resolved to work on
in spite of everything. We were
not rich, he said, and work was ne
cessary then for several weeks. Ste,
instead of passing the hours in his
studio, as she used to do, would
remain in her own room with her
door locked-sulking, 1 told her
sister.
At last one day a blow Tell on US
ala dreadful blow and harder to
me since l believed / had helped to
bring it-that perhaps l was really
the instrument that dealt it. Had
[ not made my brother unhappy,
perhaps he would not have worked
so necessarily in the vain hope of
vanishing thought.
Ste found him one bright sum
mer's day apparently lifeless beside
his easel, and for weeks he fingered,
lowering as it were, between US and
eternity.
And his wife, remorsely for her
treachery and want of faith, seemed
to have no thought but him. She
never left him for moment, and if
she slept it was by snatches only,
with her head against his pillow,
when his slightest movement would
awaken her.
After what seemed an age of anx-
iety to US the doctor said he would
live, but never more to work, for
Gerald's right arm was paralyzed. 1
had been growing less bitter in my
feelings towards Ste during my
brothers illness-she seemed to be
really devoted to him. But when
they said he was not to work any
more with his brush look of tri-
umph came into her eyes which puz-
zled me, and again began to doubt
her, and the doubt grew stronger
when l saw her meet Mark Percival
on the porch and stand for many a
minute in earnest conversation.
Once-from behind a laurentinus
bush-I saw her place her hand on
his arm and look up into his face,
her great, wild, dark eyes full OF
glittering tears, while she said, with
quivering lips;
''How much longer? Oh, these
last weeks have been centuries to
me. And if-oh, YOU have not been
deceiving mel hope
every thingr' he answered, in
terrupting her and taking the mite
of hand in his. 81 tell you that
you have not many more days to
wait and then we shall both be very
happy"
Upon this Ste smiled up into his
handsome eyes with a strange,
wistful yearnIng look that drove me
almost with the bitterest anger and
suspicion. Now 1 dare not even
look back to the horrible feeling
that filled my heart with regard to
the woman whom my brother had |
made his wife, and in whom he had |
placed his happiness, his infinite
faith, and, more than all, his honor
But Gerald was in q weak and |
CRITICAL state and did not dare to
warn him of what l feared. He
was very loving and tender to her,
and l could see his eyes follow her
slight figure wherever she moved |
with an expression of mingled af-
fection and doubt that was sad to
look upon.
When one day she heard Mark
PeEcival's voice at the door, she |
darted out of the room to meet him !
forgetful of mass of roses on her
lap with which she was making a |
bouquet, and needless of the lovely |
fragile flowers in her haste and evil
dent agitation, she trod out their
beauty with her feet.
Then l heard Gerald murmur to
himself: "Poor little one! She is
so young! 1 hoped to make her
happy, but l am so grave and quiet
that she cannot love me. God give |
me strength to bear itI'
1 told my sister of this, but she
would hardly listen. Ste had be-
witchsd her. and she declared that
my brothers wife was thoughtless
child, but nothing more.
The death of summer had come i
and autumn brought its wailing
wind and the leaves died in compa
ny with the long bright days, wrap |
ped in splendid cerements of rain
bow hues. And Gerald grew no
better.g
The truth was that he did not
care to. live. a
Ste was in a state of feverish ex-
citement, which seemed to grow
worse each hour. One day I felt
the crisis was near. Her cheeks
burned with two red spots, her
eyes had wilder look, and know
that her ear was strained to catch
every sound of coming footsteps.
At last she heard the welcome
sound of Mark Perciva's laugh. He
had not been near us for a whole
week, and, regardless of us she flew
down stairs to him.
l heard him exclaim:
"Hurah it's all right"
And her answer was:
"God bless you! how good you