Iowa County democrat. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1877-1938, 1888-02-24
CHAPTER XIII.
SEQ REvoCARE 6RADUA-

effect upon rather delicate constitution.
Miss NorcrosS was i'll the following dav. and,
IN spite of the doctors, fever set in. Her
Slster-ln-law was assiduous in her atten-
lions, and Oakhurst called daily with in
quiries and tender messages. While thus oc-
cupled, he had little time to consider the real
state of his feelings towards the new love.
still less to reflect upon his conduct towards
the old. For the first time in his life he be-
came coward. If he ment to abide by his
last engagement, honor should have led him
to break the unwelcome news to Agnes as
best he might, and extricate himself from his
false and embarrassing position. If he still
loved the girl of his first choice, and felt that
his untruth to her was only the result of a
transient, senSuouS passion, it was equally
plain that he must resolutely break away
from the beautiful tempter. But he oscillated,
pendulum-hke, between the two. When
Irene began to recover, and he was allowed
to see her in her chamber, the influence she
had at first exerted returned upon him with
doub g force. In her helplessneSs, she ap-
pealed powerfully to the chivalric sentiment
which man feels towards the dependent; her
tones, softened by affection and tremulous
from weakness, thrilled his soul; and the
touch of her hand was electric When he re-
turned to his studio, as he thought of the
trustful, unsuSpecting, generous heart of
Agnes, he was smitten with a pang of re-
morse too keen to be borne. He tried to look
at her picture, but the face was to him like
the sight of reproving angel He could not
look steadily upon the placid features; the
calm eyes turned his heart to stone; the
sweet mouth was an accuser he dared not
face. But when next he saw Irene, all was
forgotten; while under her spell he could
have braved the world, only too happy to
live and die for her.
For days this struggle continued. His art
had no power to amuse him or engross his
thought. His friends were neglected.
Palette with the rest. His enemy could not
have wished to see him more completely mis-
cradle He knew that he must decide, must
act; but whatever might be his determine
ton, he had a most painful duty to perform
Let him do what he might, he must prove
himself villain. He loathed, detested him.
self. Sometimes he was tempted to fly, but
then he reflected that he should in that way
one. For three weeks he had not written to
Agnes, and the last letter he had received
from her was a month old. He took it from
his pocket, where it lay among the perfumed
and tinted evidences of his unfaithfulness
1t was simple thing, but how the gentle
words smoke upon his heart!
"My dear James, (her dear JamesD-How
l wish could be with you, to rejoice over
your success! You are really great artist,
the papers say, and are becoming famous |!
Not that l love you the more for that If
you were still unknown to the world, still
80 fS..
content with painting for your own pleasure,
| am not sure that l should not love you the
more. But you will believe me, that am
proud of your success II am ambitious, it
is for you. I would have the world see and
know you as do. Yet not as do,-nobody
can do that. To the world you are a great
painter. To me-ah, my dearest james,
YOU are the noblest and truest heart that ever
rested upon. l shall be proud of the
homage the world gives you, because at the
same time l shall say, That is my betrothed,
my husband, whom they praise; what his
heart is, no woman knows but me'"--
He could read no farther. His emotions
were too powerful to be borne in silence He
yielded, and, strong man as he was, bowed
his head and wept.
1t was long night-a night of unuttera-
BILE suffering, struggle, and doubt. The hours
seemed shod with lead. Sleep seemed ban
ished from the universe. But with the COM
ing of dawn the tempest was stilled. In the
clear light of day the path of duty seemed
plain. He felt sure that in his heart of hearts
he loved Agnes, and her only. He would go
at once to Irene and tell her of his perfidy,
implore the forgiveness of silence and charity,
and bid her farewell. When he reached this
conclusion he bacame calm. He could face
any temptation without one fiutter of incon-
stancy towards his first love.
Oakhurst was not the only one in the city
with whom the night had passed heavily.
Failures by dozens were announced daily.
No business man felt secure. No amount of
property, other than ready money, was any
Some looked white with appre-
hension, some crushed and fearful. others
stony, sullen, or defiant Like ships crew
on a raft, alone on the ocean without provi-
sions, they looked at each other as they were.
There, in their extremity, were to be seen
calm resignation, unmanly terror, moody
despair, turbulent passion, and stealthy,
fiendisb glances that blinked not at cannibaI-
ism itself.
Mr.. Norcross, almost for the first time in
his life. had been rendered nervous with ap-
IL. L
him. He had gone to the last verge, ex-
hausted every resource, land, if there were not
some help, as unlocked for as shower of
gold from Heaven, he must stop payment
he, whose credit had been spotless and with
out limit, whose name in the financial world
was honor itself, whose influence had been a
tower of strength in every undertaking. 1t
was not without a struggle that he brought
himself to look this inexorable fact in the
face. Irene and his sister-in-law heard him
as he paced the room through the night; they
had noticed his distracted and downcast air
the preceding evening, and at break
fast the few words that es
capped from between his frm-set lips
were sufficiently ominous. 1t was the first
morning that Irene appeared at the table,
and in her feeble condition the apprehension
of danger was intense and overpowering.
Mrs. Norcross tried in vain to change the
by significant glances toward
the invalid; but the brother was too much
absorbed to notice anything outside of the
gloomy circle that hemlned him in. Mutter-
ing still of ruin, "beggery,' and similar
topics, so admirably adapted to cheer the
convalescent, he swallowed his breakfast,
like an animal, left the room without his
usual bland good morning. and slammed
the street-door after him.
A fit of Mysteries was the natural conse-
ouence The kind and sisterlv widow bore,
rather than led. Irene to an upper room,
prcpped her with pillows in an arm chair,
and employed every tender and womanly
art to soothe her excited nerves. Calmness
came, but only with exhaustion The door
bell rang, Mrs. Norcross gave an inaudible
direction to the servant. But Irene ex-
claimed, at is james, heard his step on
the pavement / must ses him. Let him in.
Mrs. Norcross demonstrated to no purpose,
and then went to her own room
1t was James" He entered the room with
. pale face, and look betokening both suf-
fering and resolution. He was evidently
struck by the appearance Of Miss Norcross,
rightly judging that she was not able to bear
what be had come to tell her. He would
have uttered a few commonplace courtesies,
and deferred his weighty communication to
another tins. But Irenes senses were prefer
naturally happened; weak as a vine without
its trellis, instinct seemed 10 guide her to
clasp by every tendril the support 10 which
she bad been wont to cling. She noticed a
certain uneasiness in Oakhurst's demeanor
ready to give the worst Interpretation to
everything, she exclaimed, in a quick,
frightened manner, James, dear James,
what is the matteri You are cold, you are
distant. Are you in trouble, too. like all the
woridE1
@Deeply in trouble be answered graveIy,
still standing. hat In hand
Trouble that cannot sootheT
Il am afraid not"
aAnd you won't tell meT'
Not to-day"
Then you don't love me-