Weekly commercial herald. (Vicksburg, Miss.) 1884-18??, 1886-06-25
SEQUEL.
CHAPTER I.

will know that it is the property of a circle
no matter how vast it be-that if you pursue
its circumference patiently you must at last
reach the very point from which you start.
SO here, reader, have you and been com
panlons now for six months, and on the best
OF terms, trudging without a murmur the
round of this novel, and now June f1nds us
in that very dining room, with its minglinp
lights, from which at first we started. For
the dining room was Egerton Doolittle's: and
among the company were not Sophia onlv.
but her husband, Percival Brent. And now
let us ascend to the drawing room and reioin
the ladies, and with the evening our novel.
too, shall close.
One ponderous figure we miss. Archibald
Goldmore no longer moves in the Kettlewell
society. Fifteen long years ago that leviathan
paid the great debt of nature. The grand re-
serve which had hung around him all his life
long was never, even to the last, rufHed by
one fold. Responsible he was, just, good, in
his own way; but Sybil never got very near
to hlm. The pair had not a quarrel in their
lives; partly because she stood In awe of him.
partly because he never meddled with her,
partly because each was iEapassive and cold,
partly because they never loved each other,
Love, my reader, is grand ingredient in quar-
rels. The husband and wife walked apart
through life, and never exchanged one cordial
confidence. Even when Goldmore was seized
with what he felt sure was to be his mortal
illness he did not communicate his forebodinp
to Sybl, This was not because be feared
frightening her, but only from his way of
keeping things to himself. Before long. how
ever, concealment became impossible. The
doctor entered the house; the end was in
view.
"Sibyl," the old man said one day, when he
was rather better than usual, II wish to saw
a word to you" He drew himself upa little.
with a faint remembrance in his air of his
famous testimonial style. "You have been to
me a loving and an honorable wife. When |
die you will find that l have recognized all
that. You will not be hampered by any
foolish restrictions. l desire to return you
my thanks"-as if he had been speaking at a
public dinner-"for your unvarying consider
alton and attention to all my wishes"
lie paused, and she stood beside him and
did not speak, nor show any sign of feeling.
She only regarded him fixedly; and he, after
waiting to gather a little strength, added in
tho simplest way:
"God bless you, my dear, and watch over
you when I am gone"
And then, although her face moved not a
whit, he saw one tear come out and stand on
her eyelash and roll down her cheek. It was
the only tear he had ever seen her shed. Per-
haps from her it signified more than floods of
weeping from an ordinary 1t was
tincere, anyhow, not assumed; and Goldmore
knew it, and the sight comforted him before
he died.
Liberty and fortune he certainly left her:
and at the time Of his death Sibyl was in the
very height of matronly beauty. Her figure
was full and rounded, her hair as fresh as
when she was twenty, and her movements
full of grace and dignity. She was by no
means young; but hers was a style of beauty
which Time finds it hard to destroy, and we
all expected that she would have married
again. This expectation was the more reason
able because she maintained her more Youth
full habits. But five years went by. ten.
fifteen, and still Sibyl Goldmore did not
change her name. And now there appeared
upon her most unmistakable signs of age; and,
curiously enough, as her beauty more and
more decayed, she seemed more and more re-
solved to let all the world know what a
beauty she thought herself. She grew affected,
sat in pastures, dressed for twenty-fve-we
even fancy that she rouged a little.
Meanwhile, her old reserve and her silent
ways remained the same. She talked little.
and took no pains with her conversation. She
treated most people with naughty reserve.
Strong and sensible as she was, Sibyl was
never able to see that she was growing an old
woman, and that the affectation of physical
beauty had long ago been ridiculous. | grieve
to write it of Sibyl, for whom l have ever felt
respect, and even regard, but the verdict of
Kettlewell was that she-once a queen in
our society-had become-dreadful world
q bore!
Caroline, at the sam time, had changed
with years in quite another way. You re-
member how well she used to dress?-al these
girls dressed well. But Caroline, as she be-
came intellectual, began to neglect her per-
son, and rather affected slovenliness. She
would wear a morning dress in the evening,
or go to a concert in a shawl like a parish
blanket, which she would pin across her
breast with some odd brooch that she might
have picked up in Hanway street. In fact.
" a bSNohO 4Gdl1uuy Dlu6, anu HOulu even
talk about Hebrew during dinner, attacking
tender young curates who had never seen a
Hebrew grammar, frightening the poor
young men out of their senses, and running a
good dinner. In addition to this, she became
a woman's rights lady, and made speeches
advocating female suffrage. Upon these
occasions Egerton used to go to the back of
the hall with an umbrella and applaud. Also,
if it was a strange town, he would nudge his
next neighbor when the speakers came on the
platform:
"Can you tell me" he would ask, in a low
whisper, (which of these ladies is Mrs. Eyer
ton Doolittle!"
Curiously enough, the stranger was never
able to point her out.
Il should like to have seen her." Egerton
would say. "People assert she is a tremen-
dously clever woman. Indeed, know she is.
In fact, you may spread it with confidence;
she is a tremendously clever woman!"
"And in this way, my DEAR Egerton would
say to her when they got home, Gin this way
| intend to get your name up. It's the kind
of thing that is done with actresses, and-and
popular preachers, and statesmen too, | un.
derstand. Some one goes about-perhaps the
twin brother-pretending he does not
know him by sight; asks, is that the great
Dir. So-and-soF Probably the other says,