The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1886-01-28
When we received cards for the we'd

When we received cards Tor the we'd
ding | thought of refusing to attend, but
Mark decided to 60, and we sent our
wedding-gift, and went up to the city to
be at the ceremony in the church and
the dress reception afterwards.
could not wonder when | saw Henry
Parker that he had won Alice's love-
He was superbly handsome, and had the
winning manner calculated to change
her timidity into trusting love.
And he took the love and the trust to
betray both, to change the love to
shuddering horror, the trust to shrink
ing fear.
Little by little the poor girl reused to
the fact that her husband despised the
very gentleness he had so often praised,
and that the charm of full purse was
the one that had attracted him to his
wife.
Probably a father or a guardian
would have protected Alice's fortune
after marriage, but it was under her
own control, her mother being her only
guardian.
And Henry Parker spent it freely; at
first in profuse style of living, in luxur-
les his wife could share, but later in
gambling and low vice, travelling the
downward path with fearful rapidity.
Six years after his marriage he desert
ed his W ..e, who returned to her mother,
and year later the newspapers gave
the account of his death in bar-room,
where he was shot in scuffle.
1t was after year of widowhood that
Alice came O.. ,e more to Claymont. her
sweet face pale and sad, and her blue
eyes often dreamily mournful.
She was but little changed, though
older and graver than in her girlhood,
for her timidity was, if changed at all;
only increased by the trials of her mar
ried life. She was SO nervous that an
unexpected sound made her start in
positive terror, and where the pretty
fitting color had been in her cheeks,
there was only an added pallor when she
was startled.
The free country life, the pure air and
quiet, seemed to help her in regaining
something of her cheerfulness, and Miss
Arnold astonished us all by her tender
ness.
She treated her niece like a sick baby,
anticipating her wants, coaxing her
appetite, and bringing her curt sent
ences, that were usually like pistol
shots, down to tones of cooling gentle
ness.
The poor darling'' she said to me,
with tears in her hard eyes. How
could anyone have the heart to say
rough word to her? l could as soon
strike an infant as trouble her, the pretty
dover
But what was the best medicine for
Alice was soon apparent to me. She
had learned to value such love as Marks
and she understood at last what his at
tentions meant.
For seven years he had kept her i'm
age in his heart, and when once more
he could honorably WOO her he made no
secret of his devotion.
She frightened visibly. the shy, blue
eyes looking more frankly into Marks
than they had ever done, the sweet musi-
cal voice losing its quiver when she
spoke to him.
Very gladly did l hear that my
brother had won the heart he coveted
and very sure was l that it was all his
own, with a far truer, more womanly
love than Alice had given in her gIrlish
lnfatuatlon to Henry Parker.
And l, who knew Mark so well, knew
that each year would but add to his af-
fection, and that Alice need never know
again what it was to fear her husband.
The long. bright summer passed hap
PLY, and in September Alice was to re-
turn to her mother to prepare for quiet
wedding and an extended tour.
1t was the evening before she was to
leave us that Miss Arnold invited Mark
and myself to tea. We were all in the
parlor, early in the evening when
gentleman asked for Mrs. Parker, and
Alice turned very white as she introduc-
ed Mr.. George Parker.
my husbands brother" she said
aside to me. ''He was always very kind
to me-"
For a few moments after this intro
duction Mr.. Parker sat in embarrassed
silence. Then he said very suddenly:
81 do not know whether my news will
be good news or bad news to you, Alice.
came to tell you, as soon as possible
after hearing it myself, that Harry is not
dead"
Alice did not faint or scream. White
as death, she said, steadily:
''Why did he conceal it from mep'
''He did not Intentionally. He was
left for dead and so reported, after the
trouble in st. Louis, but he was only
horribly wounded. Somebody took him
to a hospital, but he got better in other
ways, the doctors found his brain was
weakened. He was sent to an insane
asylum, and it was only two weeks ago
that he recovered his sanity enough to
send for me. / went to him at once and
brought him to my house. He asks
every hour for you, but ought to warn
you that he is still very queer. The
doctors say he is harmless, and as he
him out | should not have left him in
pauper asylum any time, but l very
much fear he will have to 60 to private
insane hospital before long. He is
strong and well and may live for
years"
Yes. shall go to my mothers to-
morrow" Alice said. ''Will you bring
him to me?'
There seemed no question of her duty
in her pure heart, but the hopeless mis-
cry of her fair face was heart-breaking
to witness Mr.. Parker left in time for
an carly return train to the city, and
Miss Arnold took me to her own room to
look at some lace.
LET them be alone" she said to me.
at is for the last time. l know Alice.
Under that shrinking, gentle manner
there is strong martyr spirit, and she
will do her duty at any cost. Oh, the
poor child! the poor childr'
And we broke into bitter weeping to-
gether, for as deeply as she grieved for
Alice, did grieve for my brother.
did not see Alice again. Mark met
me in the hall, and saying to Miss Arm
old: go to her! Comfort her if you
canr' he drew my hand through his
arm and led me out of the house.
That was just one week ago. To-day
we read in the city papers this para
graph:
Mrs. Henry Parker, residing at 232.
- street. was found dead in her room