The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1888-07-21
POOR LITTLE EMILY.
The History Of a Prudent
Marriage.
by MISS UNLOCK
CHAPTER V

have them have also that stern power of
endurance, which, if they only have
strength to live through the first shock,
vii enable them still to live on-live no.
bly,, heroically, until they come to expert
enee the mysterious internal force of repa-
ration which heaven has mercifully i'm
parted to every sound body and healthily
constituted mind; which turns evil into
good, and transmutes dull misery into that
active battling with sorrow which in time
produces deeper peace than even hap
pIness.
But here and there are others, like poor
Emily Bowerbank, gifted with strong per-
sIstency of loving, and almost no other
strength-no other persistency in anything
sweet, gentle, sensitive souls; climbing
plants, who, if they find prop to cling to.
bloom bounteously all their days; but,
5nding no prop, or being rudely torn from
it, slip silently to the earth, where they
soon witber away, and have no use nor
beauty III sheir lives ever after. This may
not be noticeable outside; the result may
De attributed 10 many accidental external
causes worldly misfortune, constitutional
feebleness, and so on, but the real cause
Is-their hearts are broken. Why 1t
should be so-why, above all, Providence
should allow it should permit the gentle
weak ones to succumb to the bad strong
ones, aud the virtuous to be sacrificed to
the vicious - the unselfsh and much
enduring to those who have neither tender
ness nor generoslty-is q mystery that
never viii be unrayeled. We can only
leave ii with Him who, dying, prayed to
His Father, as Emily Boweroank tried to
pray to the Father in heaven, whenever
she thought of her own father, Forgive
them, they know not what they do"
Nevertheless, her heart was broken, and
ia E1,a4v She rapOvara1 frnpn her
fever, and by degrees resumed almost her
former place in her husbands household,
though not in general society; she was
quite incapable of that, and, besides, dur
Ing her tedious convalescence, Sir John
hal got into habit of going to his dinner
parties alone. She was, to all appearance,
quite well still she never again took a firm
hold on life, never was heard to talk of the
future, or to make any plans beyond the
month. or the week, and then gradually
SO gradually that no one perceived it-not
even beyond the day.
she was not in a consumption, for the
doctor found no disease in the lungs. it
WIS more what the country people call "a
waste that is, a gradual sinking of ali
the powers of the body, and sometimes
even Of the mind; until mental griefs
cease to wound, and of bodily suffering,
except WEAKNESS and feebleness, there is
absolutely none. Not painful death to
die, especially when surrounded by all the
luxuries that wealth or kindly care could
bestow- everything, in short, except the
one thing-the one amulet of life which
had been taken away from her.
People do not recognize half clearly
enough the truth that God would not have
created such a thing as mutual love, end
ing IN marriage, had he not meant it to be
the one thing needful-not absolutely to
the salvation Of human soul, though it is
thlt,.or the contrary, oftener than we sus-
poet, but to its perfect development, and,
above all, to its happiness. Those who
interfere with what is called "a love af-
fair are doing what they never can undo;
destroying what IS impossible TO rebuild;
taking away from human beings that
which no substitute, be it family affection,
wealth, worldly homer, or success, can
avail to restore. All are valueless when
love IS not there.
The Sod lay green over Mr.. Kendals
bones; his life was over; but he had
blIghted two other lives - lives which
might have blossomed into beauty and car
RED their perfectness down into coming
generations, when his poor, selfish exist
ence WAS forgotten in the dust. He had
dene It, and 1t never could be undone.
What had become of John Stenhouse
was a question that Mrs. knowle often
asked herself. Only to herself, however.
Constantly, as she visited Lady Bower
bank, and more especially since the sad
illness Which followed the sudden death
OF Mr.. Kendall, his name had, since that
first night, never once been breathed be-
tween them. 1t was impossible it could
be, between any two honorable women.
Nevertheless, the elder matron thought of
linn deal more than she would have
liked to own, and made many inquiries
HI I, a.
ali resulted in nothing beyond the fact that
he was living and working somewhere in
India. Mr.. hnowle had contrived to pre-
vent all offers being made to him of re-
tuning TO England.
Still, occasionally he was heard of, to
Mrs. Knowles great satisfaction, though
seeing that Emily made no inquiries, her
information was carefully kept to herself
But she took a romantic interest, most I'M
worthy of such a very practical and sensi-
bic old matron, IL the young man and his
fortunes; for she never ceased to believe,
and asserted repeatedly to her husband,
that so true a lover and so honest man as
John steRhouse could never have forsaken
woman IN this mean way; and, though
the real truth of the matter might never
be discovered, she was as certain as she
was OF her existence that there had been
something wrong somewhere.
Anu II may CSLuS IlSuI Vet, WHO
knows? ! hope I'm not wicked-and it 8
Ill waiting barefoot for dead mems shoes,
but Sir John is over sixty, and he will have
had very fair enjoyment OF life if he
lives TO eighty; and poor Emily will not be
much over forty-three even then. Folks
do sometimes take the wrong person be-
come widows and widowers - and then
meet their old love and get married. and
end their days happily together, after all. "
Mr.. knowles shook his gray head.
1t won't be the case here, wife, so you
need not think it.
lie gave no more explanation, for he was
not talEatiye man, but his wife noticed
that h often rode round two miles out of
his way to business IN order to inquire
how Lady Bowerbank was that morning.
And Mrs. hnowle, from paying a formal
visit ocee IN three months, got slowly into
the habit of driving to Summer Lodge at
least t~lee week and spending the morn
ing with Emily. And by degrees she re-
turned To the old tender fashion, and called
her not Lady Bowerbank but Emily. -
One morning the two ladies' were sitting
together, one working for Mrs Knowles
Lustrs We're never empty of work-and the
olA=r reading, or attempting to read, the
newspaper. Newspapers were terribly in
teiest}ng now IN all houses. for it was lust
about the time of the Indian revolt, and
as TINS Seneratlon viii long remember, far
anu near, there was scarcely a family who
mad not TO mourn their dead. Lady Bow
ere4nl. without giving any reasons for
it-&ld indeed none were required. for the
sympathy was too uaiyersal-had taken a
deep interest III the tdings brought mail
after mail, and, horrible as they often
We're, they were not forbidden her, for
tle5 seemed to rouse her out of herself to
feel Tor affections compared to which her
own We're nothing. She also began to ex-
ert herself and her small strength in wav
that surprised both her husband and the
doctors, gathering and making centfibu-
tons IN aid Of the sufferers, anu irving in
iteoIe way to organize schemes for their
reaef, and find out cases of exceeding
need, which, by means of the large Indian
connection of the house of Bowerbank <
&C.. was not difficult to accomplish.
should like to do q little good before
So. she said one day, when Mrs.
ano#le was urging her not to exert her
@sit. 1 have done so little good in nv