The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-03-27
"A GOOD MANS DILEMMA.
[The Cornhin Maaazine.I

10 as Archdeacon Yale of Sudbury, in
Gloucestershire, who had taken breakfast
at the atheneum, walked down the steps
eastward bound. He was a man of fresh
complexion and good presence; OF tolera-
bic means and some reputation as the
author of a curiouslv morbid book,
''Timon Defended" AS he walked briskly
along an unopened letter, which peeped
from his pocket, seemed-and rightly-to
indicate man free from anxieties; man
almost without care.
But before he lett the dignifed stiffness
of Pail Mall, he found leisure to read this:
'I inclose," wrote his wife, "a letter
which came for you this morning. ]
trust, Cyprian, that you are not fretting
about the visitation question, and get
your meals fairly well cooked" The arch
deacon paused at this point and smiled
family as at some pleasant reminiscence.
'Give my love to dear Jack, Oh-h'm-I
do not recognize your correspondents
handwriting"
''Nor do / % said the archdeacon aloud;
and he opened the inclosure with curl
osity that had in it no fear OF trouble.
After glancing at the signature, however,
letter through. He sighed. "Oh, dear,
dearr' he muttered. "What can / do? l
must go There is no room for refusal
And yet-Oh dear after all these years.
No. IA Sidmouth-st, Gray's inn road :?
What placep'
1t was a shabby, third-rate lodging
house place, as perhaps he knew. But he
called cab and had himself driven thither
without delay. At the corner of the street
he dismissed the cab and looked about him
furtively. For a man who had left his
club so free from care, and whose wife at
Sudbury and son at Lincoln's inn were
well, he wore an oddly anxious face. 1t
could not be-for he was an archdeacon-
that he was about odo anything OF which
he was ashamed. OF course not Bishops
and others of that class may be open to
temptation, or have pages of their lives
folded down which they would not wish
turned. But an archdeacon? Oh, no.
Yet when he was distant house or so
from No. IA he started guiltily at very
ordinary occurrence-nOthing more than
the arrival of a hanson cab at the door.
True, a young woman descended from 1t,
and let herself into the house with latch
key. But young women and latch-keys
are common in London, as common as-as
dirt. 1t could hardly be that which dark
ened his face as he rang the bell.
In the hall, where a dun was sitting,
there was little TO remove any prejudice
he NAV have conceived; little, too, in the
dingy staircase numbered with plates
and stale food; or in the first floor
rooms, from which some one peaped
and another whispered and both giggled;
or in that second floor room, at once
smart and shabby, and remarkable
Tor many photographs OF one young girl,
where he was hidden to wait-little or
nothing. But when he had pished and
Pshawed at the tenth photograph, he was
called into an inner room, where a strange
silence prevailed InyOluntarily he
stepped softly. ''It was kind of you to
come" some one said-some one who was
lying in a great chair brought very near
TO the open window that the speaker
might breathe more freely-"very kind.
And you have come so quickly, too"
81 have been in London some DAYS" he
answered gently, the fastidious expression
gone from his face. "Your daughters
letter followed me from the country and
reached me only an hour ago. 1t has been
no trouble TO me to come. l am only
panied at finding you so i'll.
"AhW she answered. Doubtless her
thoughts were busy; while his flew back
nearly thirty years to a summer evening,
when he had walked with her under the
trees in Chelsea gardens and heard her
pour into his ear-she was young actress
then in the first blush of success-all her
hopes and ambitions. There was nothing
IN the memory of which he had need to
be ashamed. In those DAYS he had been
reading for orders. and, having lodgings
in a respectable street, came by chance to
know two of his neighbors-her mother
and herself. The two were living quiet,
domestic life, which surprised and i'm
pressed him. The girls talent and the
contrast between her notoriety and her
simple ways had certain charm for him.
For some months the neophyte and the
actress were as brother and sister But
there the feeling stopped; and when his
appointment to a country curacy closed
this pretty episode in his life, the exchange
of a few letters had but added grace to its
ending.
Now old feelings rose to swell his pity
as he traced the girls features in the
woman's face "You have a daughter?
You have been married since we parted ?"
he said
ayes. 1t is for her sake have troubled
yOu," was her answer. ''She is a good
girl-oh, so good But she has no one in
the world except me, and i am leaving
her. Poor Grisselp'
"She is on the stage?" he inquired
eravely.
"Yes; and she has succeeded young. as
did We have not been unhappy to-
Rether. You remember the life my
mother and 1 led? think it has been
the same with US again"
She smiled ever so little. He remem-
bered something of the quiet pathos of
that life. ''Your husband is dead ?" he
asked.
Dead No; i wish he werep she an
swered bitterly, the smile passing from
her face on the instant. "My girl had bet
ter by far be alone than with her father.
All, you do not know When he went to
America years ago, with another woman.
j thanked God for it. Dead? Oh, mol
There is no chance that he is dead"
Mr.. Yale was shocked. "You have not
got divorce" !" he said.
"No. Until last year, when Grissel
made good engagement, we were very
poor. Then | fell ILL., and there we're ex-
penses- We had 10 come here. Now that
her name is known he will come back and
find her out. She plays as Kittie Latouche,
but the profession know who she is, and
and what can | do? Oh, Mr.. Yale tell
me what can do for her."
Her anxiety unnerved him. Her terror
of the future, not her own, but her child's,
wrung his heart. He had presentiment
whittier she was leading him. and he tried