Alma record. (Alma, Mich.) 1878-1928, 1889-11-22

| '.Ihere was some feeltng In THIS I'M
masked adventures, Irene. or else
her acting wac superb, for ner eyes
grew dim with tears; but the next mo-
ment she said with impatient scorn--
Z" .Bah-you know the rest! Why
should | make a long story or it? l
was weary of myself and my old name,
the public that once adored had Kissed
me from the stage. Why should l not
turn my back on Ina Vertuni, and her
stained past md her husband in the
galleys, and begin new life in Estellc
Egerton's name? ! did it, and | am
not sorry-the game was worth the
candle while il lasted. But the game
is over, the candle burned out, and |
must show that | can lose, as well as
win, with a good grace.
IL did not answer; | was wondering
how 1 should carry through my diff
cult task-what should say q" do
next-when she suddenly helped me
with "A suggestion.
Z" Suppose you spare me little
while, Mr.. Martineau? You are great
enough TO be merciful here. Does
Irene Gerard know my storyY
+" No; l have not written, or spok-
en- TO, or seen her yet.
Then promise not to write, not
speak TO, or to see her until ! am
gone. She is kind girl; she tried TO
welcome and like me. and | have q
fancy TO bid her goodbye before !
CO.
"She did, Dick, She called here
quite early in the morning-on her
way, suppose to the train
YES" Dick answered. with Il
thoughtful nod; Il met her "a, the
station by your uncle's wish, and took
her up to town. She had to him the
whole story-not in my presence-the
night before, and he Of course was
terribly shocked and shal'en by the
news; but he had somewhat recovered
when | saw him, and on the whole
was wonderfully calm. As for her,
really believe she delighted to be free.
i could not have endured your
Ludleigh much longer; and shall not
starve now, she said, with candid pleas
ure, when the solicitor informed her
of the liberal provision with which
your uncle proposed to purchase free
dom and peace. MIR. Martineau, you
may be sure | shall abide by my bar
gain, and always look upon you as my
best friend"
"And that is ALP | asked wistful-
ly, as Dick paused.
That is all, dear; and all is well sc
far-or will be, at least, when the
roses have come back to these poor
pale cheeks" answered Dick fondly
Poor little Irene, you have had much
to bear! But you took instant re
venge on those who made you suffer
by giving them this week OF agonized
suspense to live through. Your
mother and | have been like crazy
folk; and Mr.. Gerard has been 81
cruelty anxious about you that l an
sure by this time he has half forgot.
ten he ever had wife"
l laughed, weakly but happily. I
was ineXpressibly sweet to be so loved
doubt. Through all the after days.
do not think that my faith in Dicl
ever wavered for moment again.
By-and-by uncle Archie came, with
his kind grave face and anxious eyes
and | knew that what Dick had saiC
was true; his great fear that he hac
killed me had almost put the othe
trouble out Of his mind. | think his
brief experience of married life al
ready began to seem to him nothing
more than the haunting memory OF AT
; ugly dream.
I'VE shall all forget it in time.
mother declared comfortably. lever
the Ludleigh gossips will, by and bye
, Oh, yes, you may shake your head
Irene-and | admit they are tena
cious set OF people-but they will lie
even this subject drop-say in a yea
, or two. After all, they know so little
: and now that they cannot possibl,
pretend as they did at first, that sh
, bad eloped with Dick, and they proba
bly, think in their hearts, though they
would die rather than spoil GOOD
story by admitting it, that nothin,
. worse than a fit of temper has sepa
: rated the Squire and his wife-tha
at any moment we may have her bacl
= at Ludleigh again.
| did not answer-not because | wa
a convinced, far from it, but because a
: that moment | heard the click OF tn
7 garden gate, and Saw my uncle AM
my lover coming up the path, talkin
together like father and son. Ate
'. all. what did it matter while we fou
= understood one another, and wer
happy? All the tongues of the Cos
sips in Ludleigh were free to wag an
: speculate and con ;ecture on tn
threadbare subject of UNCLE ARCHIE
WIFE. THE END.
i Wisdom is Silence.