The weekly Union times. [volume] (Union C.H., South Carolina) 1871-1894, 1889-04-12
POOR LITTLE EMILY,
The History Of a Prudent
Marriage.
'OHAPTER VIZ

81 =
$3.50 CHAPTER VII
What John Stenhouse said to his wife
when he got Mrs. Knowles letter. yery
brief, simple letter dictated by Lady Bow
erbank at her bedside, and merely stating
that sho wished to see her old friend again.
as she did not think she w,s long for this
world-what he said, or what he felt, this
history cannot tell He was not man
likely to have confided much of his own
previous history to his wife, nor. when
Mrs. knowle afterward saw the lady, did
that acute matron think her person likely
70 have evinced much interest concerning
her husbands early fortunes or lost love-
nice, pretty-faced, gentle creature, Ian
Ruid, and little uninteresting, besides
being little lazy, as Indian ladies are apt
to be. Doubtless the marriage had grown,
circumstances, and after Il the husband
had gone back very much to his own old
ife--the life Of action, or business, or, ut
bost, Of generally kindly benevolence-a
nie in Which his Wife tco., little part, or,
indeed, was capable OF taking it.
When John Stenhouse visited Liverpool
for, after showing the letter to Mrs.
Stennouse. IN whom it did not excite the
ieast curiosity, he started north at once,
every one or his old acquaintances, es-
pecia'ly the Knowles, noticed visible
change in htm-a certain hardness, reti-
cence and self-containedness deeper than
even the reserve of his bachelor days-as
u the man had Withdrawn into himself,
went his own ways, AMI carried out his own
lie with grave and sad Independence.
He spoke Of his homo and Of his wife with
. careful tenderness, but his ave did not
moisten nor his face kindle when naming
either, and inere was nothing Of that total
change from frosty GOODNESS 10 sunshiny
warmth which Is often seen in the looks
and manner OF O man who marries ever SO
late In life, il he marries with all his
heart In the union. In this mans heaS..,
good and true as 1t was, and would always
remain faithful till dea,h. for honor's and
consciences sake, to the woman he had
iaken to himself, still, as any one who
knew the difference could plainly see, and
as Edward and Emma Knowle saw at a
&>e1oes Tho hzqeodS 1x1axxit5fa.e tuzohs<e prof
sbutnings- yet eybr unconsujned, hnd nover
retily been lighted d-never would bo.
But Stenhouse had always been silent
and undemonstrativo man: and his expert
ence abroad had made him moro 30, and
more sedulous than even In his youth
over the keeping up Of oil outward OBJ
seryancos. Even when he sat listening to
Mrs. Knowles account Of Lady Bower
banks falling health and the hopelessness
OF her recovery, md again to that other
story, which 1t had been arranged she
should tell him, and not Emily, Of the cir
cumstances Of her marriage to Sir John,
and the letter found in Mr.: Kendnl's desk
afterward, he exhibited outwardly nothing
more than q sad gravity; in fact, he hardly
spoke six consecutive words.
80 like mani" said Mrs. Knowle,' half
bitterly, when she was retailing the con-
versation to her husband.
II think 1t was liks man, said honest
Edward Knowle; and his wife, woman as
she was, quick, impulsiye. and hard to be-
heve in what she did not clearly see. recog-
nized dimly what her husband meant. She
respected, and In years 10 come learned
daily to respect more, the manly endurance
which, beholding the absolute and inev-
table, accepts, It, 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 me
mysels-and--to heri Is she able to see
NOR II 30, had We not better 60 at
oncep"
Mrs. Knowle ordered the carriage, and
they drove across the country-the miles
upon miles Of fat country which mark tho
Liverpool shore--n long level of roads,
fields, and hedges--sometimes green, per.
baps, and not ugly, but tame and uninter-
esting as loveless life--as the life which
had been meted out to these two human
creatures, who, left to their own holy in
gtincts, would have met and mingled to-
gother, and flowed on harmoniously as one
perfect existence now.
Mr.. 6tenhouse and Mrs Knowle con-
yersed versed very little during their drive,
and then not concerning anything Of the
past Only once, with Unnecessary cau-
:;;ss..: ::;;ss..:, Issss. KsiSass screwed Up leF courage
to its utmost pitch. and said:
Perhaps It would be better II you did not
speak to Emily about her father John
stenhouse's face turned purple-red. and
*No, ] win remember that he Is dead
dead. And within o minute or two he said
-the bittsrest thing he was ever known to
tAy-sMrs. 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-
Glare, That when he chose . wife, he
would take care she was o miserable or
phan.
But they were reaching the door, whore
scarcely any visitors now entered except
through the splendid empty house, where
the misiress had been missing 80 long thai
her absence was scarcely noticed. The
large drawing-room was just as bright,
even though the sofa In the corner where
Emily used 70 lie was vacated, and had
been Tor some days. She now occupied o
small room much .quieter and farther re.
moved, which had been hastily fitted up
would vanish from that into her own cham
J bes ana bed. never 70 be carried thence
till carried away In that narrow coach oI
! eternal rest where We all shah be laid some
day. And that day vas not very far Of
now to the weary soul and worif- out body
Of Emily Bowerbank. As she said many1 3