Smyrna times., 1888-01-25

cleaning white teeth, that remind one of
well, no matter what She knows /
hate his attentions to her. He will be at
Mrs. GTey's tonight, and if she goes
there 1 will never forgive herr' and
George Atwood strobe away with the air
of man who meant what he said.
''Mary, will you come with me to Mrs.
Grey's tO-night?''
''My dear, 1 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 OPP
posed to your going, and will not ac-
company you"
''What absurd nonsense. Why, George
will get bravely over all that before he
comes home. He has warned me, though,
that if I go to Mrs. Grey's l will regret it,
What an idea. Well, I've made up nv
mind to go. 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 it
would make matters much worse to allow
Florence to go alone.
Mrs. Grey's brilliantly illumined parlors
were filled with ''fair women and brave
men," and fairest among the fair 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 a very lover
like manner.
1t was growing late, and Miss Strickney
asked Florence to go home. But Florence
refused to go; she begged her cousin to
remain, for i'll her secret heart she thought
every moment would bring her husband.
eyes, George will surely come, " thought
Florence; land do wish August Marsh
would go away. 1t would be dreadful if
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 as if his
features were at rest forever, stood her
husband.
For one moment their eyes met, and
then he disappeared from the doorway.
MARY, l want to go home" said Flor
ence us she gained Miss Strickney's side.
why, what ails you, child? You're
looking like a ghost"
did you see George?" Florence whis-
pered
''NO; was he here?''
Eyes; I just caught sight of him stand
ing in the doorway a few minutes ago,
| and Ohr' said Florence, with SILVER, II
am so sorry I 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 here9" asked
| Florence.
eyes, madam; Mr.. Atwood was here
about fifteen minutes ago."
Just then Florence noticed a sealed en-
velOpe on her bureau.
''Nliss Strickney has just entered her
| room; tell her / 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 husbands
handwriting.
Pale and trembling, with a 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, Maryl my husband--he's goner'
and Florence Atwood fell 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 a pale,
sad faced woman. All the old selfWill
that had ruined her life was gone; but at
% she was far more beautiful than at 20.
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
I onaNvincr of bpr haarfefrfnOq
''Florenee, 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.
would only be a skeleton at the feast"
FLORENCE, if you go on in this way you
will be dead before month. You must
rouse yourself. / accepted the invitation
more for your sake than my own, for ]
have not frequented such places of late
You will go, just to please me, won't you
dear?'
81 would do anything to please you, my
cousin. What would have done all these
years were it not for your good advice?"
That night, at Mrs Wharton's party
nearly all the old faces greeted FlOrenc,
again. How glad they all were to see hel
among them once more How they re
minded her Of the past.
Turning her head to lock after an ole
friend, who had passed her by withou
seeing her, her eyes fell on one tina
brought the past more vivid before he
than all the rest had.
1t was August Marsh, the man who ha,
done his part to separate her from her
husband.
She felt his eyes upon her; she could
not speak to him again, and with a sicken.
ing sensation she turned away to look fol-
her cousin.
She made her way among the throng OF
dancers, but her cousin was nowhere to
be seen.
Passing the conservatory, which was
but dimly lighted, she looked in. There
was no one there, and with a sigh of re-
lief she entered and sat in front of pillar
Of roses.
She had not been seated many moments
when a shadow fell across the floor.
My dear Mrs. Atwood, this is an I'M
expected pleasure" and August Marsh
seated himself on the settee by her side.
Mr.. Marsh lavished his fascinating
smile, whispered in her ears the same
low tender tones Of five years apo
But how disgusting they seemed to-
night The fascinating smile she returned
with a look of haughtiness; the tender
tones she answered with the most frigid
politeness
But Mr. Marsh was not to be cast
aside so easily. Her freezing manners
only made him the more determined in
his advances.
Mrs. Atwood, rumOr says that you are
divorced from your husband Florence.
forgive me-" and Mr.. Marsh seized her
hand; forgive me, but may say to YOU
now what / dared not say years ago.
Florence; love you. I"
Florence Atwood wrenched her hand
from his clasp, and in the twilight of the
conyersatory Mr. Marsh could see the
fash Of her blue eyes and the crimson tide
in her pale face.
''Sir, IN my case, as in all others. rumoi
takes an unwarrantable liberty. am no
q divorced wife, and no man can ever tax,
my husbands place in my affections"
Florence forgive me; u
Leave, sir, this instantr'
Mr. Marsh detestcd scenes, and he lef
the conservatory without q word
"Oh, George, George, If you could wit
ness this scene you would forgive mel
and Florence buried her face in her hands
Florence, my wife, do forgive you.
Wl1n low cry Florence sprang to he
ieet Was she dreaming2
MO- standing before her, with out
stretched arms, was stalwart hand
some man. awfullv bronzed and bearded