Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1889-10-10

fronted me, someone whom know by evil
repute to be man like meas bad as L
was, and, strange feeling that it was, l
could shrink from him as from one lost
beyond redemption, and whose career had
been scandal and gross affront to me!
l was sentimentalist have said already.
The reader of these lines will not under
stand me without knowing Of my weak
ness. I could not make the best of my
position; it was beyond me.
/ was 81 years of age and a rich man,
comparatively, when / came back to Lon
don with her. was in the prime Of life,
when life should have been at its best,
and yet I could envy the workman with
his child strolling in the public park
through which I dashed on horseback L
would have changed places with him had
the chance been offered me and at the
price of my forgetfulness. If could have
only forgotten! If I could have hardened
like steel and been like other men! If she
had been happy, very happy, say moder-
ately happy, and kept me from thinking
desperately-ifi in her own strange sadness
there was not ever a lost SOULS whisper
to me-"This is your work. without you /
should have been an honest woman at
peace with God, at peace with myself"
One thing I had been spared hitherto in
this miserable association-thec curse which
comes to most men who have acted after
my fashion-jealousy. In no instance
during those ten years had she raised my
mistrust; in no instance had l seen in her
that instinct to attract, to encourage, to
flatter other men, which is part of a weak
woman's character, and which had led
her from her husbands side to mine.
The first fault had been the great fault,
and she was faithful to me-terribly faith
full
When we were in London again the
jealousy came at last, and I was amazed
at the strength and passion of it-at its
bewildering effects upon me. She became
very eccentric in her manner, a woman
with a mystery, woman who would not
explain. There were days when / re-
turned home to find she had deserted it,
and soon the various excuses offered for
her absence aroused my suspicious and
did not appear to be the truth. Which
they were not. Which presently I proved
to be lies, but such lies as disarmed my
jealousy and filed me with new despair.
She had discovered her children. She
had found out her husbands residence in
a Westend square, and she had planned
and plotted to see them, even to speak to
them with all the earnestness and passion
of woman at bay.
'sWhy did you not tell me?" I asked,
when the secret came out at last, 'Why
hide it all from me?"
'You would have been angry"
''No."
"And could not keep away. For the
soul of me- Ernest, could not keep away
wanted to see them, oh, so badlyp'
at can do no good"
81 know that"
cit may do deal of harm"
cit may" she assented.
''You have not told them who you are?"
ooh, no; God forbid that! 1 have only
asked them a direction in the street Just
to hear the sound of their voices, just to
look at them little closer and be sure
that they are my own boy and girl. Don't
YOU understand me?" she screamed, won't
you understand me?"
Eyes, yes l understand" was my reply;
''but you see all this has brought fresh
misery to you; rendered you wholly IN
happy and restless. What is the use of it?"
| asked.
Il don't know" was the helpless an
swer, and she wrung her hands together
for an instant. ST am not trying to see
the use of it, the good of it. How should
L know what is good? / don't even under
stand why it should come to me after all
these years to find them out, to yearn for
one look of their bright young faces, as
one like me might yearn to look at Heaven
just for once-but it has come, and they
are my boy and girl Whatever I am
whatever [ have been-they are mine.
DON'T you see that? Don't you see 1 can't
help all this? [ can't! [ can'tT"
Her grief, her self-abandonment was SO
great that could only attempt to soothe
1t, 1mplOre her to be calm, to be reasonab e
to forget my harshness, to exercise some
sort of self-res-raint and then the calm
follOwed-that dread calm which was very
like despair.
L did not set an interdict on her move
ments; l did not inquire again where she
had been; had to let things take their
course and remain in ignorance as to which
way they were tending l seemed to eX-
pect a catastrophe-to be waiting for it
to be wondering how long it would be.
And yet was not wholly passive. [ was
making arrangements to go abroad again,
to be quit of England, this time forever.
When the time came to tell her, she
shook her head sadly.
Il can't CO." she answered.
81 have made all preparations
''You will kill me, if you take me from
England any MORE" she said; "but if you
insist, [ must de-
l did not answer. 1 resolved to speak of
it again tomorrow, when she was less eX-
citable, when she had grown more accus-
toned to the news. l had surprised and
shocked her. l was not a wise man. I did
nething that was right.
And, on the morrow; the catastrophe for
which | had waited had come, and there
was no talking of reasoning with her
again. 1t had come to myself-to me who
was unprepared for it, who had not looked
| for it in my own direction, had not
dreamed the hand of fate could strike so
| heavily.
| My horse had taken fright, and I had
] been thrown. 1t was terrible accident,
and they picked me up, as they thought,
| for dead. / was carried to the nearest hos
| pital, in one of the wards of which l found
myself days afterwards, lying like child,
speechless, nerveless, and not even the
| strength to turn my head Strange faces
came and looked at me for an instant and
then vanished in a mist that grew about
! them; voices very far away sounded mean
| ingless in my ears, where there was always
! the rushing of a sea and the breaking of
! its waves in thunderous booms upon the
| beach. must be at sea, 1 unused, when
| the first thought came back to me.
There was no power to move, was like
a man chained down. At that time I did
| not l-novU baf had r