Montgomery County sentinel., 1888-03-02
u Florence Atwood entered her own
apartments. Her maid, half asleep 10
the armchair. was waiting for her.
s.Haa Mr. Atwnnf hann hara, ~. 20 IL "a

Miss Stfidkney has Just entered d,
i rom; tell her wish to see her, Jane
land you need not rctdrh / shall nj
hnt You fortnight Seenaaa sai p 1aile
Florence picked ub the envelope q
was directed TO slisrself'in her husband
hand-writing.i!. led evse O, aa ,alndni
Pale aud trembling with q forebodin
pf what wasito noouae, she4 tore II ope
Il And read itsscontents. 81 10 sffTl aea
AS Florenee finished roading the lei
| tpf, Miss Stickney nntsfari - ! s.la |
Aguh, sDInry IN y s,hnshaad s-sAa
ttirA,y}.-le " anu fiorehve Atwooa iaiI' Ior
ward in a deadly swoon. I
Five years passed away. FloreDc,
Atwood sat in the bright little sitting
room Of her spinster cousin.
Five years of repentance in sackclott
and ashes made Florence Atwood pale
sad faced woman, All the old self-wil
that had ruined her life was gone; but
at 25 she was far more beautiful than al
20. s.
For the last five years she had been
a wnnderer 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 homo
to her native land she came, despair at
last gnawing at her heartstrings
FLORENCE, Mrs. Wharton will be Of
Tended if you do not go. She is such
an old friend you know"
"My dear do not ask me to go. I
would only be a skeleton at the feast. 4"
FLORENCE, II you go on this way you
will be dead before month. You must
rouse yourself. accepted the invita-
tion more for your sake than my own,
forst've not freqnented such places Of
late You will go, just to please me,
will gou not. my dear ?"
'iwould do anything to please you,
my cousin. What would have done
all these years were it not for your good
advice n
That night, at Mrs. Wharton's party,
nearly oil the old faces greeted Florence
again. How glad they all were to see
her among them once more. How they
reminded her OF the past. 2
Turning her head to look after an old
friend, who hed passed her by without
seeing her, her eyes fell on that which
brought the past more vivid before her
than all the rest had.
1t was Augustus Marsh, the man who
had done his part to separate her from
her husband.
She felt his. eyes upon her; she could
not speak 10 him again, aud with sick
ening sepsaeios sho turned away to loo1
fas her cousil
She made herFway through the throng
of the dancers, but her cousin was no.
where to be seen.
Passing the conservatory, which was
but dimly lighted, she looked in. There
was no one there, and with sigh of re-
lief she entered and sat in front of
pillar of most beautiful roses.
She had not been seated many mo-
ments when shadow fell across the
1oor.
"My dear Mrs Atwood, this is an
unexpected pleasure" aud Augustus
Marsh seated himself on the settoe by
ier side.
Mr.. Marsh lavisbed bis fascinating
mile, whispered in her ears the same
ow, tender tones of five years ago.
But how disgusting they seem to-
,igbtI The fascinating smile she re-
urned with look Of haughtiness the
ender tones she answered with the uIost
figid polteness.
But Mr. Marsh was not to be cast
side so easily. Her freezing manners
My made him the more determined in
lis advances to her.
"Mrs. Atwood, rumor says that you
re divorced from your husband. Flor
nee, forgive me" and Mr. Marsh seized
er hand; "forgive, me but must say
, you now what I dared to say years
go. Miss Florence, | love you" Ii
Florence Atwood wrenched her hand .
-om his clasp, and in tho twilight Of
he conservatory Mr.. Marsh could sec
,e fash Of her blue eyes and the Grim
On tide in her pale face.
''Sir, in my case, as in all others,
lmor takes an unwarrantable liberty
am not divorced wife, and no man :
IN ever take my husbands place in my !
fections."
"Blorence, forgive me; l." !
leave, sir, this instant p
Mr.. Marsh detestcd scenes, and he
ft without word.
4"oh, George. George, if you could
lily witness this scene you would for
We me !" and she buried her face in G
,r hands. I
Florence, my wife, 1 do forgive
"a" j
With low cry Florence sprang to I
er feet. Was she dreaming? q
No; standing before her, with out O
retched arms, was stalwart, hand
me man, awfully bronzed and bearded. I
my husband-at last, al last l'' said
orence. rushing wildly to his embrace. !
"Oh, my husband how could you :
ave me Tongue can never tell what j
have suffered all these years." cried i
orence, clinging to him.
MY darling. what have I not suffer- Z
for the last five years have often t
ring these years been near you; and :
Cd only knows whether you would /
We beon aware Of my presence to- q
ght were it not for the scene I wit q
'ssed from behind that pillar of roses" c
"And we will never again be sepa- i
ted in this world, my husband" said a
orence, with sob. s
"Neger again, my own dear wife"
The nalloua nh;Ioaonbar wbo h.s navor