The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1886-10-01

L LCStSc uOl1 ollC NCIy SCllUlys
"Those who have-who suffer can best
feel for SORROW
He rose up slowly, as one who had
passed through some great physical
exhaustion, and as the actress clasped
both her hands on his arm, as daugh-
ter might have done, he laid his own
upon them.
"Did you see the face in that car
riage?" he asked.
"No; did not look back"
Oh, if she had.- if she had!
cit was my wife," he said low and
brokenly. "The woman loved! How
l loved her!"
The actress OWNED all now-the old,
sad story. How terribly near her own
it came in one way, she best knew.
at goes back more than eighteen
years when l first met her, q lovely,
most bewitching girl of two OF three
and twenty. l was not, I knew, her
equal, for she was gently born, though
then an orphan, and only q goyerness
in the family where l taught elocution.
My father had been but a Custom
House officer, and never laid claim to
more gentility than he got from a
thoroughly upright character, a good
education, and honest name. No more
do 1; and deeply madly as loved that
girl, I don't believe should ever have
dared to tell her so, if she had not one
day let me see she cared for meat
least, l thought so then"
He paused, and for a few steps went
on in silence.
81 had some little means beside my
profession, and when l married her,
took her to pretty little home in the
northern outskirts of London, for | was
then on six months term at the
Adelphi. was happy then, my dear,
those few short months, and after that
all was blackness and disgrace. 1 went
with company on tour to ireland,
and could not take Charlotte. She
pouted, and was veXed at that. Her
life was dull, she declared, for the first
sine. She had thought that I should
be great actor by now, and courtcd
by all: but still, when we parted, there
was nothing of GOODNESS or temper and
all that three months / was counting
the days, and looking forward TO-"
The man stopped, almost choked; but
the little hand on his arm chung closer,
though it trembled terribly, and the
low, soft voice at his side trembled as
it spoke:
FLUSH! You shall not go on, indeed;
please, do not"
"There is little more, child, to tell.
I came one night to find my home
shattered, my hearth desolate, dis
graced. Charlotte was gone. 1 think,
my dear, that for days 1 was nearly
mad; and then 1 learned from the SER
want that a week after my departure
she had gone away, to the seaside, she
said but left no address, and used to
come up every Saturday for letters.
The fortnight before, she had taken
away everything that had been left,
and had never returned, but had writ
ten from Dover. merely saying that she
was never coming back: she had never
cared for me: her companion was moro
congenial to her than could ever have
been. Great heavenw Denham broke
out with sudden, fierce passion. eff |
could but find the man, would kill
himY'
Presently Viola VALERIE asked, "Then
you never saw her or heard of her
again?"
"Never, child, till just now-all
these eighteen years."
She glanced up at him, and put an
other question.
"Forgive me-you will not try to see
her again?"
"See her? By heaven, no! She need
not fear me. Didn't turn back just
now because would not see her? The
Charlotte l loved is dead; only-only
she left poisoned sting in the wound.
She knew me, too, and will probably fly
from Loden tomorrow. See! there is
the inn ahead, and over there Ravens
Place. am not the only one who is
stabbed by woman, you see. You
heard the host tell that tale; and the
proud owner of it loved the girl, whether
she was his wife or not, who deserted
him so cruelty"
"Don't say that of her." the actress
said, under her breath. ave do not
know. Perhaps the child may have fled
from temptatien-not into it,"
"Very well; it might have been So"
He opened the gate of the inn garden
as he spoke, not seeing that she was
CHASTITY white as she entered.
"We are very much later than the
rest" said Denham. care you pre-
pared for plenty of Jokes, Miss VALERIE 2"