, 1888-11-10

"OIIu WAS lOI lu6 SAINT. L uO"ou MI.
Adams to hasten our wedding day, and /
gave up my position. / was very happy,
and only one thing marred my sunshine.
Wallace would be absent a week at st.
Louis. 1t was a long week, but nearly
ended. Jack McGillicuddy had been my
shadow all through it, which 1 allowed,
since Jack was only 81 and not in love
with me. Oddly enough, l had not re-
ceived a letter from st. Louis. To-mor-
row he would be here, and 1 should know
why. Jack proposed a rambfe down
town. you've been too close, Miss
Hunter" said he. Let's go and call on
one of Josie's friends"
l went out into the July night with
them and we had ice cream. Then we
went to a hotel on Monroe street, where
Josie's friend was stopping. Who does
not know the Egyptian parlor with its
hangings? l stood behind a curtain
talking and laughing with Jack and Jo-
sic, when l saw coming down to one of
the ground parlors Wallace Adams, with
a lady on his arm. 1 looked until 1 felt
myself growing rigid. She was dark
and very beautiful and they were talking
in low tones. They approached some one
near us. Jack McGillicuddy followed the
direction of my eyes, then darted away
to learn more.
II introduced her as Mrs. Adams,'
he announced, coming back soon. Lets
get home" l did not faint or cry out. I
believed it, and realized how cruelty 1
had been deceived. The thought of the
California horses floated into my mind.
II lives for pleasure" 1 said to myself.
"He thought me so poor and mean that
he could buy my silence when he had
duped me-"
Then, through the midnight watches I
thought wildly and madly. How should
1 endure my life hereafter? How take
up the duties 1 hated SO when 1 had
known a little time of happiness2 The
discipline of five years gave me
strength. Work. 1t would be welcome
now-if only 1 could forget the past, the
present. Thousands live and strive
where there is no object in life. 1
thought Of death, of suicide. They were
not for me, though L would nave been SO
glad to die. l laughed aloud as L
thought, The water in the Chicago
river is SO dirty, and in the lake they
would never find me-" 1 would live,
but l would go away where no one knew
me INT begin life anew. Perhaps in
time L would forget it, but now, God
pity mel
1 packed my things together with
trembling fingers and feverish haste,
though it was hours till morning. 1 did
not shed a tear, even over my pretty
wedding dress and bonnet, which Knocked
me now like silent witnesses of my hu-
initiation. 1 sent a little note to Mr..
Adams:
Ireturn your ring and your presents. I know
how base you have been and I hope we will never
meet again. Dora HUNTER.
In the morning 1 went away, leaving
no address. 1 could not face the McGini-
cuddy curiosity, and 1 had but a little
money. My work 1 had given up and
must seek it again. 1 must have change
or I felt that 1 should go mad.
l went to a boarding house on the
West side. After a day or two 1 found
work in a dressmaker's establishment. 1
reader. l succeeded after a few days,
and, ah me, how faithful I was. I no
longer dreaded work, but feared a cessa-
ton of it, when 1 should AVE time to
think and remember I cared for nothing
and trusted no living being. My life was
over and done.
1t was here one day that a woman
hoated into my presence to have her
draperies fastened. 1t was the same 1
had seen on his arm that fatal night, but
now I could look at her calmly. Was I
growing stronger I even addressed her.
You are Mrs. Adams,"I said, while 1
did my lowly work. Yes, " she smiled,
MRS. Wallace Adams" Some old
author has said there is a peace that
comes, not of hopes realized, but of hopes
relinquished; a peace that is not born at
the tranquil fireside, but is the peace of
solitude. 1t was this 1 hoped for now.
After weeks l had ceased to feel
wanted to read proof once more. 1 would
look for my work where no one would
know me. For awhile 1 sought in vain,
but 1 was not discouraged, and in a week
1 found it. The past was dead and I
was alone. 1 went down to the bridge
again, and again the bridge bell rang out
sharply. 1 hurried on, just in time to
swing out over the river. Now l knew
1 had ceased to care, but looking out
over the water I did not heed approach
ing footsteps.
"Dora, Dora" some one cried. ''Will
you speak to me?' For at the sound of
his voice 1 had stretched out my arms to
the muddy Chicago river; 1 who was SO
strong minded and did not care.
''We've looked in all the printing
offices in Chicago" said Jack McGilli-
cuddy, when they had brought me out
of a little faint. THAT was Adams
cousins wife, Miss Hunter"
Dora" says the manly voice once
more, ''has it been so hard in your life
that you couldn't believe me and trust
me again2"
1 had passed almost into the darkness
of belief that love and truth are not on
the earth; that nothing remains but
treachery and the wrangling of human
passions; but in the light of my husbands
home l shall find my faith restored, and
remembering those days, I can only say,
God help the women who work.
Dora Hunter in Chicago Herald.