The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1888-08-04
POOR LITTLE EMILY.
The History Of a Prudent
Marriage.
BY MISS MULoCEs
CHAPTER VII

when he got Mrs. Knowles letter-a very
brief, simple letter dictated by Lady Bow
erbank at her bedside, and merely stating
that she wished to see her old friend again
as she did not think she WE long for this
world-what he said, or what he felt, this
history cannot tell. He was not a man
likely to have confided much of his own
previous history to his wife, nor, when
Birs. Kncwle afterward saw the lady, did
that acute matron think her a person likely
TO have evinced much interest concerning
her husbands early fortunes or lost love
nice, pretty-faced, gentle creature, Lam
guild, and a little uninterestIng, besides
being little lazy, AZ Indian ladies are apt
TO be. Doubtless the marriage had grown,
IS so many marriages do grow, out of mere
circumstances, and after it the husband
had gone back very much 20 his own old
lIfe-the life of action. or business, or, at
best, of generally kindly benevolence-a
life IN which his wife took little part, or,
indeed was capable Of taking it.
When John Stenhouse visited Liverpool
for, after showing the letter to Mrs.
Stenhouse, in whom it did not excite the
least curiosity, he started north at once,
every one OF his old acquaintances, es-
pecially the Knowles, noticed a visible
change IN nina certain hardness, retl-
cence and self-containedness, deeper than
even the reserve of his bachelor days as
II the man had withdrawn into himself,
went his own ways, ana carried cut his own
life with a grave and sad independence.
He spoke OF his home and of his wife with
a careful tenderness, but his eye did not
moisten nor his face kindle when naming
either, and there was nothing Of that total
change from frosty GOODNESS to sunshiny
warmth which is often seen IN the looks
and manner of man who marries ever SO
late in life, If he marrIes with all his
heart in the union. In this mans heart,
good and true as it was, and would always
remain faithful till death, for honor's and
conscience's sake, TO the woman he had
taken to himself, still, as any one who
knew the difference could plainly see, and
as Edward and Emma kuowle saw at a
glance, the sacred marriage torch, ever
burning, yet ever unconsumed, had never
really been lighted would be.
But Stenhouse had always been silent
and undemonstratlye man; and his expert
ence abroad had made him more SO, and
more sedulous than even III his youth
over the keeping up of all outward eb-
servances. Even when he sat listening 10
Mrs. Knowles account Of Lady Bower
banks failing health and the hopelessness
of her recovery, and again to that other
BURY, WHICH II ulu bttH blIdnLGu she
should tell him, and not Emily, of the cir
cumstances of her marriage to Sir John,
and the letter found in Mr.. Kendals desk
afterward, he exhibited outwardly nothing
more than a sad gravity; in fact, he hardly
spoke SIX consecutive words.
SO like mani said Ms. knowle, half
bitterly, when she was retailing the con-
versation to her husband.
Il think 1t was like a man, " said honest
Edward knowle; and his wife, woman as
she was, quick, impulsive, and hard to be-
heve in what she didnot clearly see, recog-
nized dimly what her husband meant. She
respected, and in years to come learned
daily to respect more, the manly endurance
which, beholdIng the absolute and ineY-
liable, accepts, 1t, and, whatever the man
suffers, makes no sign,
Thank you" Mr.. Stenhouse had said,
holding out his hand to Mrs. Knowle,
thank you for all your kindness; to Inc
myself and-to her! Is She able to see
me2 If SO, had we not better 90 at
once?"
Mrs. Knowle ordered the carriage, and
they drove across the Countrywide miles
upon miles Of Hat country which mark the
Liverpool sbore-a long level of roads,
fields, and hedges-sometime green, per-
haps, and not ugly, but tame and uninter-
esting as loyeless life-as the life which
had been melted out to these two human
creatures, who, left to their own holy IN
stincts, would have met and mingled to-
gether, and flowed ON tremendously as one
perfect existence now.
Mr.. Stenhouse and Mrs. Knowle con-
yersed versed very little during their drive,
and then not concerning anything of the
past. Only once, with Unnecessary eau
hon, Mrs. hnowle screwed up her courage
10 its utmost pitch, and said:
Perhaps it would be better if you did not
speak to Emily about her father" John
Stenhouse's face turned purple-red, and
his eyes famed.
No, ] will remember that he is dead
dead" And within minute or two he said
the bitterest thing he was ever known TO
say-"Alrs. knowle, my father died a
month before ] was born, and my mother
seven years afterward. Perhaps it's true
what cynical friend of mine used to de-
clare, that when he chose a wife. he
would take care she was miserable or
phan.
But they were reaching the door, where
scarcely any visitors now entered eycent
good Mrs. knowle. Soon they passed
through the splendid empty house, where
the mistress had been missing so long that
~ASi G'oCA4SC WIS SCARCELY nOLlCg0. 1 ne
4arge drawlng-room was Just as bright
even though the sofa in the corner where
Emily used to lie was vacated, and had
been Tor some days. She now occupied n
small room much quieter and farther re-
moved, which had been hastily fitted M
Tor her comfort. In a few days more She
would vanish from that into her own cham
Der and bed, never to be carried thence
TIL carried away in that narrow coach of
eternal rest where We all shall be laid soma
day. And that day was not very far off
now TO the weary soul and WORKOUT body
OF tmily Bowerbank. As she said many a
time, life had been too hard for her; She
was gladto go TO sleep.
Nhen the strong, hearty, healthy man,
sun young IN years, and with all his life
before him, passed out of the bright, cheer
iul drawing room; full of all sights and
sounds, rich furniture the seen. Of exotics,
ana the shrlll note of Cage-h bird singing
TO that small inner chamber where the
hight was subdued. and there was a faint
oppressive perfume to make MP for the lack
OF fresh air; while a sedate old woman. the
nurse OF Emily's childish DAYS, sat sewing
al the window, but turning every moment
at the slightest cough or movement Of the
mouoniess figure on the sofa, John stem
house drew back involuntarily. He had
not realIed till now all that he had lost
all that he was losing. Though he had
been told It over and over again. he never
really ieco MED that the woman he once
loved 50 passionately- the pretty. briobt
gll' with her rosy cheeks, her lauebing
eyes, and her heart full of the fondesf
most innocent love, was dying.
lie was married now-anotber woman
owned his duty, and possessed a great deal
OF the tenderness that no honorable man
can fall 10 give 10 creature so utterly de-
pendent on him as his wife is-bnt FmiIv
hendal had been his first love. All fba
memories of II, and of her, rushed nnon
him With an agony irrepressibIe. He
grasped Mrs. knowls by the arm as She
was going into the sick-room.
Want mlnute-stay,-sa III coua
presently '--e
And he rushed away, right down the
staircase, and through the first omen do
for It was high summer, and The air T,os
fuIl OF unshlne and roses into the garden
II was half an hour before he ratnrne3
which save time for them to meet. as alone
vas possible these two could meet as ola
friends r calm, tender, self-possessad
fnends over whom hung the sacred shadow
OF the eternal parting at least the nartino,
which We call eternal in this world ,Io,,I