The Emporia weekly news. [volume] (Emporia, Kan.) 1881-1889, 1886-01-28
DO NOT BLAME HER.

al OO NOI t0lAA0AG
Mark saw it before 1 did. 1 hay
! wondered to-day, looking back, if
could have controlled myself sufficient,
, to prepare him for the shock, if I hai
read the newspaper first this morning.
was passing Marks cup of coffee t,
Jane, the waiter-girl, when caugh
, sight of his face. 1t was as white anC
rigid as it can ever be in his coffin, anC
his eyes were dilated in stare horrible
! to see.
'.Mark!'' 1 cried in terror, ''what is it
dear. Are you lip"
! was beside him as / spoke, and sew
that his eyes were fixed upon a certain
place in the paper he had been reading
Then /, too, read the fatal paragraph
only few lines, but full of horror fol
Mark.
''Do not blame herr ne said in q
whisper, shuddering as he spoke. '4Oh,
Bessie! Bessie! My heart is brokenr'
| put my arms around him and drew
his head down upon my breast, where il
had so often lain in childhood, when
MY orphaned brother came to sister
Bessie to be comforted in boyish woes.
He was my only brother, though / was
sixteen years the elder.
/ Little graves in the cemetery marked
the sorrows of my childhood, as one
after another my brothers and sisters
had dropped and died, until only Marx
was left. And he was but four years
old when our parents both died.
| We were not poor, owing to our own
handsome home, and comfortable in
come; so Mark had every advantage OF
| education, studied law, and gradually
| won his way to position in his profes
/ ~ 7 !, L. L
band, and returned, after an absence OF
only three short months, to resume my
| place as my brothers housekeeper, only
my widows dress to tell strangers had
ever been away.
1t was just after Mark had finished his
studies and been admitted TO the bar
that he met Alice Arnold.
She had come to Claymont to visit her
aunt, near neighbor and old friend Of
ours, and we called to welcome her
amongst us.
She was about eighteen years old
| then, and her beauty won its way to my
heart as surely as it did to Marks She
was the most timid, gentle creature
| ever saw, her color fitting if you spoke
to her, her shy blue eyes dropping, and
her voice low and almost plaintive in its
| timidity.
Miss Arnold. strong, energetic old
maid, seemed to actually terrify her by
her short, brusque manner, but she
chung 10 me from the first hour of our
friendship.
Children generally like me, and she
was little more than child. Yet, when
she became more intimate, and came
often to pass whole days with me, !
found that below the frightened, timid
manner fhara xvaS olaoT IN
tellect that had been carefully cultivated
and sweet wOmanly nature.
She was an enthusiastic musician and
fine pianist, but could not sing. No
thing delighted her more than to play
for Mark and myself to sing duets. or If
was tired or busy, to hear Mark sing
in his rich baritone voice the music he
loved.
1 asked myself, after she had ended
her summer visit, if she was a coquette,
a cruel, heartless flirt, who would win a
mans heart only to cast it aside. And,
in my bitterness then, thought she
was.
In later years 1 acquitted her of the
crime. ! believe she had no suspicion
that Mark loved her.
He was always grave and reserved,
and, although he was but twenty-thBee
at that time, had the air and bearing OF
a much older man. And being really
so much her senior, think Alice looked
upon us both as rather elderly people,
and was far more free and confidential
than she would have been if -,e had
looked upon Mark as young man and
lover.
But Mark, who had never cared be-
fore for any of our girl-friends,. gave to
IL Ill IL e5&n Of lNxyA
heart could ever offer.
knew it, for Mark had made me his
confidential friend all his life, and see
ing her shy pleasure in his presence, the
interest she took in all his pursuits, her
gentle acceptance of his grave attentions.
I thought his love was returned, and
was happy in the expectation OF q
nearer, closer tie between the sweet,
loving girl and myself.
| But Just before she left Claymont,
| Mark, telling her his love, was answer
ed by the tidings that she was engaged
to be married.
She was dreadfully distressed, coming
to me to sob out her regret that Mark
loved her, but Loyalty asserting her own
love for her betrothed.
into confidence.
/
heiress, and her mother was fool.
am quoting Miss Arnold. She said thai
Henry Parker, the man who had won
Alice's childish love, was a snowy
handsome fellow, of whom the family
knew nothing, but who was distruste6
by all of them excepting the mother
who should have been the girls pro
tector, but who was completely faseinat
ed by the lovers attentions to herself
Mark said but little to me, but know
that he suffered keenly. He made some
enquiries in the city about Henry Parker
and was convinced that he was an ad
, venturer.
l think my brother could have borne
. his own burden better If Alice haG
chosen man worthy of her love, but h'
feared for her future happiness, thinking
her betrothed had daZzled her magma
ton rather than won her heart
When we received cards for the wed
; ding l thought of refusing to attend, bu
Mark decided to go, and we sent on
. wedding-gift, and went up to the city :
be al the ceremony IN the cnurcn an
: the dress reception afterwards.
: could not wonder when l saw Henri
r Parker that he had won Alice's love
{ He was superbly handsome, and had tn
winning manner calculated to chang
q her timidity into trusting love
And he took the love and the trust
j. betray both, to change the love to
a shuddering horror, the trust to shrinl
!. ing fear. .
: Little by little the poor.girl reused
]. the fact that her husband deSpised Ii
o very gentleness he had so often praiset
q and that the charm of full purse WI
= the one that had attracted him to h
p wife
IL Probably a father or a guardia
). would have protected Alice's fortuT
+ after marriage, but it was under hs
: own control, her mother being her on
9 guardian
= And Henry Parker spent it freely;
!; first in pFofuse style of living, in luxu
les his wife could share, but later
~ gambling and low vice, travelling Il
q downward path with fearful rapidity.
Six years after his marriage he deseT
q ed his vile, who returned to her mothe
e and year later the newspapers ga
b the account of his death in BARRON
z where he was shot in scuffie.
Il WAS after year of widowhOod tn
q Alice came once more to Claymont, b
= sweet face pale and sad. and her bf
\ eyes often dreamily mournfnL
She was but little changed, thou
y older and grayer than in her girlhoc
q for her timidity was, if changed at
only increased by the trials of her ma
; ried life. She was 50 nervous that
unexpected sound made her start
positive terror, and where the pre-
fitting color had been in her cheel
. there was only an added pallor when S
20 was startled
ae The free country life, the pure air q
c quiet, seemed to help her in regaini