The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1888-07-21

1Or one anu Hall LOT tl6 QUIET. lou
bear the pleasure between you. Guess"
The two ladies tried in all politeness,
but failed signaliy. both of them.
We'll, then, first, Lady Bowerbank, 1T
concerns you. That widow with three
children-Mrs. Hamilton. you know, whose
husband was shot at Bareilly, and who
wrote you such pretty letter OF thanks
she is coming home by next mail"
with all her children. hope! Poor
thingl"
You need not say poor thing for it is
not only with her children-she brings a
husband too"
Then he was not shot, after all?"
ayes, he was" said Sir John. "But you
women are curious creatures. This Is her
second husband. She has married the
gentleman who saved her life and that of
her three children, and brought her hun
dreds of miles across country and through
indescrbable perils. AS she has not a
halfpenny, and he is pretty we'll off, per-
haps, poor woman, she might have done
worse. You will think SO, Mrs. Knowle,
for you know the person-our old clerk,
John Stenhouse."
John Stenhousel Married. exclaimed
Mrs. knowle; as, with an agitation she
could hardly conceal, she glanced toward
the sofa where Lady Bowerbank lay. But
this tidings, which had powerfully affected
the good lady herself. seemed to have
passed quite harmlessly over Emily. She
scarcely turned or showed any sign of emo
ton beyond feeble futtering of the fingers,
which were soon stilled and folded upon
one another over her heart-an involuntary
attitude of hers, something like Chantrey's
figure of Resignation.
why on earth should not the young man
be married." said Sir John, smiling. "My
dear lady, you look as vexed as if you want
ed to have him for your secondi | must
certainly tell knowle of this. What do
you say, Lady Bowerbank?"
Lady Bowerbank said quietly: II think
people should always marry whoever they
choose, and that nobody should blame or
criticise them for it. Nobody but them
selves can know the whole circumstances. !"
Quite right You are a sensible woman,
Emily" said the old man, looking tenderly
at his young wife, who yet seemed SO much
nearer the other world than he. well, l
must 90 back now, for | am full of business.
You'll wait here to dinner, Mrs. knowle?"
Mrs. Knowie muttered some excuse con-
corning Edward" She looked exceed
ingly nervous and uncomfortable still.
well, do as you like. Only stay as long
as you can-stay and grumble at your friend
| think | shall write to meet them at South
ampton; it would only be civil, and | liked
Stenhouse. What shall l give him-your
good wishes?"
"If you please"
"And mine," said Emily, half raising her.
self from the sofa. Il knew him once-we
met at Mrs. Knowles. He will remember
me-Emily Kendall"
Very we'll, my dear"
After Sir John was gone, Mrs. knowle
took her friends hand IN hers and held it,
but she did not attempt to speak; she liter
ally did not know what to say. Lady Bow
erbanks manner, so gentle, so composed,
had completely puzzled, nay, frightened
her. She could not believe it natural. But
it was natural; there was T. affectation of
strength about it, no high, heroic self-sup-
preston. Emily lay, pale, indeed, but not
paler than usual, her eyes open, and fixed
with soft, steady gaze on the white spring
clouds that sailed in mountainous masses
across the dark blue sky; great heights and
depths of heaven, into which the soul,
when it is loosely held to earth, set ms to
pierce with an intense aud yet calm desire,
that soothes all pain and makes everything
level and at rest.
81 am glad of this-very glad" she said,
after long pause, and without any explana-
ton. He ought to be married, and he will
be sure to make a good, kind husband to
whomever he chooses for his wife, and no
doubt he has chosen wisely and we'll"
L hope he has," said Mrs. Knowle,
rather tartly. She was but human, and she
did not like the destruction of her little ro-
nance.
81 am sure of it. The man who could
love one woman so faithfully as he once
loved me"
Airs. Knowle turned round eagerly.
Emily colored, even under the paleness
of mortal disease. ayes, it was SO. He
was never untrue to me. | can't tell you
any particulars, and / never found it out
myself till little while ago. But he did
come back, to the very day. and claimed
me. Only was never told.
And whose doing was that?"
My fathers"
Mrs. Knowle almost started from her
chair. What an atrocious-
Hush it is too late now. And besides.
it might have come to the same thing In the
end. Feel here" and she took Mrs.
Knowles hand and put it to her heart,
which was beating violently and irregularly.
ale does not know it my good husband, /
mean. Was he not good to me this morn
ing? Nobody knows it, l think. But
certain-safely certain that | am dying"
Don't say that. You must not-you
ought not" And Mrs. knowle tried lit
tie to reason her out of that conviction,
which seemed to be the source of all her
strength, and the soothing of all her sor-
rows.
Mono. This world has been little
too hard for me-" Emily said; "but in the
other | may begin again, and be strong.
Do you think he has forgiven me?"
Who, my poor child?"
John Stenhouse. You see, I might
have obeyed my father, and not married
him, but then | ought not to have married
at all. Nobody ought, loving another per-
son all the time. But / was so weak-and
Never mind. 1t does not matter
much now"
John has married, you see," said Mrs.
knowle, partly with lurking sense of in
dignation at him and partly from vague
feeling that even now it was her duty to
impress that fact saiutarily upon Sir John
Bowerbanks wife. Both the wrath and
the caution passed harmlessly over the
gentle spirit, that was already loosing its
cables from earthly shores, and feeling soft,
pure airs blowing toward it from the land
unseen.
Yes, he has married; can quite und r.
stand how it came about; just the sort
OF marriage he would be sure to make
of pity, and tenderness, and duty,
and it may turn out very happy one. He
will love her very much-when | am quite
gone away. I hope she is good woman. !"
i hope SO" said Mrs. knowle rather
huskily.
Would you mind trying to find out? l
don't mean that | am every likely to have
any acquaintance with them, but I should
like 10 know about him and her. And
something about her three children, too.
He will have to work hard to maintain so
large a family"
Very hard,"
1t was strange how the two women
seemed to have changed places. Emily
talked, Mrs. Knowle was all but silent
You are sure you don't mind making
these in luiries? Or | would ask nv hus-
band. Yes, perhaps, alter all, it will be
better to ask my husband. He might be-
friend them very much, and / am sure he
would like to do IT"
In the way he once wanted-by getting
John StenEouse into the firm again? Do
you mean that? and do you wish it, Emilv?"
No, not wish it exactly. But"-and she
cd hon