Springfield daily republic. [volume] (Springfield, O. [Ohio]) 1887-1888, 1888-01-09
BEHIND THE ROSES.

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The staiwart, handsors young man Of
six and twenty glared at his better half,
and his better half, although six years
his junior, returned the glance OF her
natural protector with interest.
Neither spoke again for few mo-
ments, but stood facing each other, as
husband and wife sometimes do.
A pretty scene, truly, for young
couple who had not yet celebrated the
first anniversary of their wedding day.
With a mighty effort George Atwood
mastered his temper, and when he spoke
again his tones were cold and even.
Florence, / warn you! If you go to
Mrs. Grcy's tonight you will regret it,"
Then, let me regret it; for go shailr'
George Atwood seized his hat aud left
the room without another word.
George, do not leave the house In such
passion" said Miss Strickney, following
the young husband out into the hall.
Miss Strickney was Florence Atwood's
spinster cousin, and had been witness to
the scene of anger.
"I'm not in passion now, Mary"
at would I've well il you never were.
You know Florence is spoiled child
Why don't you reason with her quietly,
George"
Haven't I reasoned with her until
am tired. She knows / dislike August
Marsh / dislike his bland manner, his
fascinating smile, his smooth face and
cleaning white teeth. that remind one OF
well. no matter what. She knows
hate his attentions to her He will be at
Mrs Grey's tonight, and il she goes
there / will never forgive her" and
4 Ia xu-ft hA Mir
Of man who meant what he said.
MARY, will you come with me to Mrs.
Grey's u-nightsn
MY dear, l hope you will put all no.
ton Of going to Mrs. Grey's out Of your
head Take care, Florence, how you
trifle with your husband; he is bitterly op-
posed 10 your going, and l Will not &C
company you"
.'What absuri nonsense. Why, George
will get bravely over all that before he
comes home. He has warned me, though,
that il go to Mrs. Grey's will regret it.
What an idea Well, I've made up my
mind to so. so If you will not go with me,
Cousin Mary, I'll go alone"
Miss Strickney knew that her willful
cousin would do as she said SO, Of course,
she must accompany her, for she knew 1t
would make matters much worse to allow
Florence to go alone.
Mrs. Greys brilliantly illumined parlors
were filed with fair women and brave
men," and fairest among the cair was
Florence Atwood, her beauty enhanced BY
the glow on her cheek, brought there by
some remark Of Mr.. August Marsh's, who
was leaning over her chair in q very lover
like manner.
1t was growing late, and Miss Strickney
asked Florence to go home. But Florence
refused 10 go; she begged her cousin to
remain, for in her secret heart she thought
every poment would bring her husband.
..Yes, George will surely come, +" thought
Florence; and do wish August Marsh
would go away II would be dreadful II
George came and found him at my sider.
With this thought Florence turned her
eyes toward the door opposite, and there,
with his face As white and rigid - II his
features were at rest forever, stood her
husband.
For one moment their eyes met, and
then he disappeared from the doorway.
MARY, 1 want to go home," said Flor
ence Ms she gained Miss Strickney's side.
"Why, what ails you, childl You're
looking like u ghost.
"Did you see GsOrge.' Florence whis-
pered.
mo; was he here,"
"Yes; Just caught sight Of him stand
ing in the doorway a few minutes ago,
and. OH" said Florence, with shiver, II
am SO sorry came here. His face was SO
deathly white. l shall never forget the
way he looked at me tonight"
Florence Atwood entered her own apart
ments. Her maid, half asleep in the arm
chair. was waiting for her.
Has Mr.. Atwood been herey' asked
Florence.
..Yes, madam; Mr.. Atwood was here
about fifteen minutes ago"
Just then Florence noticed . sealed en-
velope on her bureau.
Miss Strickney has Just entered her
room; tell her l wish to see her, Jane,
and you need not return. shall not
want You tonight"
Florence picked up the envelope. 1t
was directed TO herself, in her husband 3
handwriting.
Pale and trembling, with . terrible
foreboding of what was to come, she tore
it open and read its contents.
As Florence finished reading the letter,
Miss Strickney entered.
''Oh, Mary! my husband-he's gone''
and Florence Atwood fen forward in q
deadly swoon.
Five years passed away. Florence At
wood sat in the bright, little sitting room,
of her spinster cousin.
Five years of repentance in sackcloth
and ashes made Florence Atwood q pale,
sad faced woman. All the old selfwill
,l,o hos 70 hat -
25 she was far more beautiful than AT 90
For the last five years she had been a
wanderer over the face Of the earth.
Never despairing, but every day hoping
to meet with the object Of her search; but
she only sought in vain; and home TO her
native land she came. despair at last
gnawing at her heartstrings.
'Florenee, Mrs. Wharton will be Of
Tended if yon do not go. She is such an
old friend, you know"
my dear, do not ask me to go. l
would only he a skeleton at the feast"
..Florence, if you 20 on in this way you
will he dead before month. You must
rouse yourself IGcccpted the invitation
more tor your sake than my own, for
have not frequented such places Of late
You will -, just TO please me, won't you,
DEAR
Il would TO ANYTHING to please you, my
cousin. What wor;ld have done all these
years were it not for your good advicei''
That night, at Mrs. Wharton's party,
nearly ali the old faces greeted Florence
again. How glad they all were to see her
among them once more How they re-
minded her of the past.
Turning her mead to look after an old
friend, who had passed her by without
seeing her, her eyes fell on one that
brought the past more vivid before her
than all the rest had.
1t was August Marsh, the man who had
done his part to separate her from hel
husband
She felt his eyes upon her: she could
not speak 10 him again, and with sicken-
ing sensation she turned away to look for
her cousin
She made her way among the throng OF
dancers, but her cousin was nowhere 10
be seen.
Passing the conservatory, which was