Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1889-07-05

But doubts and fears stung her sens1-
tive heart. AS the train rushed onward
through the night. and her tired little head
dropped YEARLY. upon her husbands shOul-
der, she said suddenly, with a pathetic
culver in her gentle voice:
Philip, do you ever think me changed
less worthy Of your devotion than the
girl you left behind when you went
abroad?"
He almost crushed the cold little hand
lying in his clasp.
What a strange question to ask! My
precious love. you are g thousand times
dearer to me than ever!"
But don't you find me changed?" she
persisted.
Yes; sWeeter, gentler, more like the
ideal I have cherished In my heart-the
lOveliest woman in all the world! Now
are you satisfied"
A flush suffused her delicate cheeks.
She felt convinced that he missed none Of
those nameless charms that had made
TOinette so dear to him, and could scarce
~ keep back her happy tears.
AS the train stopped at the next sta
ton, where Philip had many friends and
acquaintance, a man came hurriedly
through the car and tossed a yellow en-
VelOps into his lap.
"A message for you, Mr.. RaynOr.
Philip tore it open. A bewldered look
came into his face as he read, and with a
deep drawn breath he placed the telegram
in Dulcie's hand.
This is what she read with eyes almost
starting from their sockets:
PHILIP: Come back by the next train. The
girl you have married is an inpOstOr. No mat
tersWhat falsehOOds she may tell trust her not;
she is "a adventuress. Come back and learn ali
the truth nom your own TONETTE.
Even so quickly and unexpectedly the
blow had fallen. Dulcie sank back, her
forehead wet, the mdscles of her mouth
tWitching eOnvulsiVely. She dared not
look at her husband. The anger and
scOTn in his dear eyes would strike her
dead
A moment of sickening suspense, then
a laugh broke upon her ears. Such a
light, careless, happy laugh, the mere
sound of it made her start and cIinge.
How absurd" Philip exclaimed.
Major Villars has learned of your flight,
and thinks to impose upon me by this
shallow trick.
~Then you do not believe"
The words froze on her lips. She could
not have finished the sentence had her
life been at stake.
mo, darling. It is too ridiculous.
Your guardian must adopt some other
means before he viii induce me to turn
back"
Philip bent to kiss the white, scared
face, so close to his own, wondering at its
deathly pallOr. Poor Dulcie's eyes had
/ clOsed-she was scarcely conscious.
oh, she said to herself, Il could not
| bear to have him suspect me yeti"
my sweet little wife, he whispered,
you are i'll with fright and distress. I
| only showed you the message that we
might laugh over it together. could
| shoot Major VilIars for daring to send it
and making you so unhappy"
! Tearing up the dispatch, he flung the
| pieces from the car window, and put both
| arms tenderly round the dropping figure
/ Of his bride.
Forget all about it, my precious love.
| But that was impossible. DUlcie's great
/ eyes grew almost black with terror, and
whichever way she looked the words she
| had read seemed traced in the air IN let
| ters of fire.
| My sin will find me out know
| feel it" she thought.
| Philip was still trusting and kind, but
| the demon doubt might at any moment
/ take possession of his soul.
| Whoever sent that message knew all the
| truth. Notwithstanding that her name
was signed to it, she never dreamed it was
/ TOinette herself. Pray, struggle, scheme
/ as she would, it must sooner or later come
| to her husbands ears, turning his love to
| scOrn and loathing.
| All that long night she sat with her
| aching head resting upon Philip s shoulder.
! Her big, solemn, hopeless eyes were shut.
| He fancled, she slept, and ever and anon
bent to smooth the tangled golden curls
! falling loosely over his breast.
/ Poor tired child! You must have suf-
fered more than I knew. But my love will
| shelter all your future"
DuIcie caught the whispered words, and
| despairingly asked herself in her misery
/ what that future held.
When morning broke bride and groom
| alighted at lonely way station, where a
/ lovely expanse of rare-tinted water
! stretched like a plate of Furnished metal
! between green, empowering hills. Save q
! cluster of detached cottages, it was like
| a glimpse of primeval Eden.
! I'VE are literally out of the world, said
/ Philip, gayly. Even Major Villars, with
all his cunning, would scarcely look for
| US here"
Three weeks passed, and the young
| couple still fingered In this secluded spot.
| But for the haunting fear that possessed
| her, Dulcie would have been happy as few
] people ever are on earth.
But the sense of guilt never left her.
| 1t was the skeleton at every feast. A
dozen times each day came the temptation
! to fall at Philips feet and confess every
| thing. But she resisted it.
God help and pity me, she groaned in
/ her misery. Il cannot tell himl cannOti"
| The mere sound of the name she had
| stolen would drive the blood from her
! heart; and once, when Philip called her
@TOinette, she cried passionately, goaded
to the verge of madness:
Don't give me that name; hate it. "
He looked at her In startled wonder,
never having heard her speak so sharply
/ before.
It had no idea you disliked your own
name so much, darling.
One day a letter came for Philip from
his business agent. He read it twice over,
| looking vexed and troubled.
@Our Arcadian life is over, he said,
breathing regretful sigh. Matters of
| importance Oblige me to return to New
/ York Immediately. From there we will go
to Highlands, my beautiful country seat. "
/ They set ont the naxt morning. DuIcia