National Republican., 1886-01-02


the parade ground, and didn't know what
10 do when an enemy acted different from
q target | think Priscilla was ovcrdrilled.
Young iIouson, who had paused, went
on "Nhcn people were around OF course,
IL wasn't so bad, but in those few weeks 1t
was always the same when We were alone,
although after a month or two IL wasn't 50
noticeable.h
GLOW did your wife amuse hersolf9" l
asked.
'If you mean," he replied slowly, "that
she liked somebody else, you are mistaken.
thought OF that, but It wasn't co."
~ didn't mean thatn | answered. al
wouldn't have said II If had. But nov
you have opened the subject Of your wife's
likes ami 0islikes and you want my advice,
why did she marry yout"
"Well, now, old man, you know pretty
well how that is. / amt Dragging at all
when | say that most anyone would have
married me. / behaved myself, and had
money, and my people have been just about
where they are now ever since Richard
Ponn's time. haven't any reason to sup
pose that she was particularly in love with
me, aud it's absurd to imagine that she was
I'm any way forced into marrying me- There
was no need OF that with her people, but |
suppose that she understood that she was 10
marry some time, and she couldn't find any
better chance. As to her amusements," he
continued, "people TO be amused have to
| drive, and to dance and listen to bands,
and 20 to the opera, when there Is one, and
| playtennis, some Of them, and / don't know
that any ofit's very giddy fun, but she did
all Of these things, as other people do, only
she didn't care much for such things. And
| her brother Archie used TO tease her aw-
fully" he continued, with a woe.begono
smile, "about the way she handled racket"
''Your wife read2'
"Yes, and queer books. These are some
Of them"
lie pointed to some volumes on the lower
shelf Of bookcase In the room. Eighteenth
century literature part Of it-Goldsmith's
"Nicar,n "Rasselas," and tome or two Of
| Miss Austen's heavy tmviality. There were
some "IIigh Church, novels, too, Of the
Miss Yonge, Saints Day calendar aud peer
age variety, and saw a litte-known novel
Of George MacDonalds, "The Portent,n a
book which would be called sensational in
its character, but one Of the purest and
sweetest love stories ever read.
"Queer books,n continued young Houson
"Standard, / know. | aint a fool, old
man. My mother made me read that
blessed Happy Valley when was kid,
But what a lot of unreal people in those
sort of things-a lot of old phantoms.'
"sho loved flowers, too,n the widower
went on. In the darkness / heard sob.
"D-n II, old man, choked young Houson,
81 have heard her sing over her flowers
singlike canary, only her voice was better
contralto than Narie's, and u canary's moth
ing tut beastly whistle, anyway. I'd
hear her sing, say, and she'd stop when
she saw me. What was the matter, Old
man? What was the matterY I'm telling
the truth-I amt lying. can't think Of
anything did to make her hate mc.'
This wild outburst from a young man
who would as soon have thought Of riding
in the park q Ia Mazeppa as Of showing
his grief under ordinary circumstances,
was, confess, painful in the extreme.
eve dragged about from pillar to post"
the young man went on, wearily, "Always
the same. She seemed TO care very little
for other people when we were among them.
When we were alone she dreaded me.
Newport and the Catskills, New York and
Washington, and here II was just the
samc.n
Young Houson looked out intontly to
where the bare lilac trees swayed in the
: November wind. He fumbled with his
watchchais and drew his knees up under
his chin, crushing his shirt front.
"For the last few months " he continued
musingly, "it has been worse and worse
She went around looking at me as II had
injured her in some way that couldn't
make up. left her alone as much as
could, but we had to be seen together
Otherwise people would talk, and We hadn'
even q reason to give them something L
/, talk about. The thing was so deuced In
tangible, even, that couldn't ask her wha
the matter was. Lately, she was in duml
= horror, as If she was going to be shot ant
II was oil my fault And when," he con
8 tinued, "t the child was born and l went Il
see It, she looked at me as II l was mur
derer-and she didn't care hang for tn
child, either" The young mans voic
broke into high note, like a wall, and
/, ceased speaking.
i We sat silent in the dark. He had hi
, perplexed sense of injury TO keep him silen
: and. sorrowful. | had the feeling Of the ilrs
person who comes to the scene of murdG
: or other tragedy and hears the story fror
J, the witnesses to keep me still. Youn
Q Houson could not see the lonely horror G
:, Priscilla's fate-awaiting. In mystifled al
;. ticipation, trial coming unwelcome, un
V bid, uncomprehended, horrid accident
. In fact, which is trial enough when, to. on
: sustained by love and hope, it comesan II
: vited guest.
: "They are upstairs" said young House
= at length. We went up. The dim deaf
! light burned in the roem, with its thick po
there's and rugs, its wldoly-polished wainsco
: ing, its slim and graceful brass fixtures an
. mountings, its rare paintings and print
= One Of the latter was sorrowful mocker.
! II was that much hackneyed "At las
\ alonem French thing which has game
" such great favor among us Of late years thi
/ need not describe 1t.
3 A woman sat by the bed and rookie
! drowsily. The dead wife's dainty watc
q licked tinily on her bureau. The cheek c
u the girl mother and the baby girl touched
l. and matched each other alike in thi
4 sweetly human softness Of the flesh {
women and children which has been likene
y time out Of mind TO velvet and rose petal
v but which is far more delicate-allke, ais
= in the deathly pallor. One baby hand, to-
! touched the mothers cheek as childre
'' like to do when they sleep. Priscilla
!, slim wrists were folded In frill Of lac
u about the infants tiny knees. l had nj
u noticed before what an almost sprite-lll
etheriality of outline there was In Priscilla
70 hrows and nostrils, nor what a ghost
y luster In her golden hair, like the luster {
u n the hair Of tine poets wife which grew
- the grave. There was an ineffable purlt
~ ~ Of that dead embrace, doubly awf
~ 10 sanctity of the mystery OF motherhood an
u u the mystery OF death. -
" ~ can't make 1t out, old man," sa
J, young Houson, as we left the room.
u thought that6 there was nothing real
10 10 wrong about one of 'em that two peop
y, 10 could live together"
y Ibid not answer Immediately. AS i tot
y my hat said "You sent to ask me Il
~ could find out where you had been at faul
49, Im sure you cannot blame yourself for an
a. thing II your wife had lived things wou
"a doubtless have come out all right"
y, n "Do you think soY' he said. "Perhaps
y. ~ good night.n
~ No, / did not think so. But where OF
he cannot make the truth plain, It is cheape
NC and easiest to lie. Icould not have ma
es young HousOn understand--perhaps / CT
~ make no one understand--that where
z, flower from God's garden, II that figu
y, makes my meaning plain-that is to say,
Sao soul which has somehow remained au nj
ne uTel in its pristine and normal and u
US worldly state-should be transplanted al
'I, try to strike root amid the dry rot of o
10 time and place, then II shall surely die.
"a When young Houson's time Of probati