The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-05-12

God help mei-I am married i'
 For quite a minute there was si- lence.
 "Married l" she echoed then, half stu pidly. "Married An, no, not that 1" Her eyes met his with an agonized, terrified appeal that pierced his heart. He turned away with gesture of de- spair.
 "What must you think of me?" she murmured with white lips. "You are married, and yet you dare to speak to me of lovel An, what must you think of me? How low I must have fallen in your sight!" Large tears rolled over her cheeks.
 "Don'tp he said indistinctly. "Child, don't cry"
 She had begun mechanically to fas- ten her cloak, and he helped her with nervous, trembling fingers.
 "Gladys," he said imploringly, "say that you forgive mel"
 "Hush 1" she answered in dull, pas- sionless tones. "Hush! Don't you speak to me-yet 1"
 Together, silently, they descended the stairs, and went out into the court below. The rain still fell heavily, and plashed monotonously in the fountain. At intervals a peal of thun- der rolled in the distance. Neither spoke until they reached the street, then Kennard said almost harshly:
 "We had better call hanson. will go with you to your own door. Nay" as she made gesture of dissent, "allow mc so much grace. I must justify myself in your eyes. Then I will trouble you no more."
 And as they drove through the rain- washed streets, he told her, in a few broken sentences, the story of his mar risge. It was the old, pitiful story of boys mad infatuation for 8 woman grievously beneath him in every way of hasty private marriage, as has, tily repented of.
 "My infatuation did not last long," he went on bitterly. "I had scarcely been married for two months when I discovered that the woman to whom I had given my name was coarse mind ed, illiterate, incorporate, and-more degrading than all-unfaithful. It was my money, my position she loved not me. Then came terrible scenes. I shudder when I think of her face as came to know it then, of her brutal taunts, her-but bah! Why do pol lute your innocent ears with such de- tails? We parted-I agreeing to pay her certain sum yearly, as the price of my comparative freedom. She was quite content. That was ten years ago. l have never seen her since." He stopped, for he was terribly agitated, and could hardly command his voice.
 "All those years," he went on after minute, Cher allowance has been drawn with unfailing regularity. But this summer, my solicitor tells me, no application has been made. The money has hitherto been paid at a small village in Wales, but from in- quiries which I have caused to be made, learn that she is no longer there. At times, of late, I have al- lowed myself to indulge in the hope that she no longer lives. But"-be- tween his set teeth-"the she-devil is not likely to die. If 1 could know that l were free. But, oh, my God!I may never know! have spoiled your life" he went on in shaking tones, "and you have spoken no word of re- proach. have stood by and heard you insulted. I have insulted you myself by the mere mention of my love for you. Child, you do not know how have battled against it-tried to conquer it And tonight have un- done it all, he exclaimed with sudden
 
 mad!"
 Gladys had not spoken. He knew that she was weeping. "Say one kind word to me-" he said brokenly. "Say that you forgive me-"
 Just then the cab stopped.
 "Ah, yes," she breathed, leaning slightly towards him. "I forgive you. But-you have broken my heart!"
 Then they parted. And Kennard paced the streets in the pitiless, soak ing rain until the busy life of London had begun with the morning.
 MT. George Virrel occupied pleas ant set of rooms a little way from Piccadilly. He had just finished din- ner one evening, come few days after the events narrated above, when wis., itor was announced-Mr. Kennard.
 "My dear fellow" said Virrel gen. ially, "I am indeed glad to see you. Sit down. Have cigar, and help yourself to claret"
 The two men had met frequently of late, and a warm friendship had sprung up between them.
 "Thanks, no; I won't take any thing" replied Kennard, striking match rather absently, without, how ever, lighting the cigar he held.