Wichita eagle., 1889-03-21

| tudu Nc Q8Q ever OoeU. 1traIU LILO udo
been shortened by drinking and by re-
morse.
1t was over at last, the funeral, the care
OF the dead mans personal property, and
then with an underlined fear OF evil Ernest
Copeland went to Ferndale.
"GoneI Gone to Europe, you sayr'
he repeated this after the servant, in q
daze of bewildered pain, holding unopened
the letters given with the message. Not
for some minutes could he collect his senses
sufficiently to understand he held perhaps
the clew to the mystery in bis hand
But he opened it at last Grace ha6had
| to plead hard for permission TO write those
lines, harder still to keep back furious
epistle from her father. But only her
well-known writing greeted her lovers
eyes as he opened the letter:
your wife and children" he read, are in
| the little cottage opposite the church. May God
| forgive your cruelty to them"
There was no address or signature. Only
one low moan broke from Ernest's white
| lips as he folded the note again and turned
from the house White as death, shivering
in the soft summer air, he went down the
road to the cottage. There was an ecstatic
scream Of Papa! Papa!s as four ciingin
arms encircled his legs, and Mrs. Copeland
stood trembling and crying In the doorway.
| He gently lifted the youngest child, and,
| followed by the other, went into the cottage.
Mrs Copeland, crying stin, sobbed;
$50 you have come backW
Gravely, but not tenderly, Ernest an
| sweredl
"Your husband will never come back.
! You know best by what want of wifely
| love YOU drove him to drinking. to despair,
| finally to deserving you. BE was not guilt
| less; but ask yourself if you are.n
"Who are your" she gasped.
81 am Gerard's twin brother"
81 have heard of you. Where is he!'
| ain his graveP'
| She dropped at his feet as If he had shot
| her. She had been a slovenly housekeeper,
shrewish wife, grating every hour upon
| Gerard's sensitive, fashdlous tastes; but,
| in her way, she had loved him, scarcely re-
alizing how she drove him desperate
| 1t consoled her presently to know that
| half of her husbands wealth would be hers
and her children's, and Ernest made no
explanation of the reasons why the search
he had promised his brother to make for
her had been so suddenly terminated. He
left her at last to find Porter, Mr.. Wilt
banks confidential clerk. Having received
no orders to the contrary, Porter readily
gave his employers Paris address, and
Ernest returned to the city, to interview
his brothers. lawyer, and prepare for a sea
voyage.
over the broad Atlantic the Wiltbank
party accepted the usual tribulations of
sea-sickness and discomfort. Only Grace
was exempt. She waited on the others, but
made no moan over old Neptune's caprices
lob hst witt
soft blue ewes sunk in hollows, her little
white hands wasting, her pretty bright
WAYS all gone, she said she was perfectly
well, and seemed to be dying before her
fathers eyes.
She would not own to being sick after they
arrived In Paris.
They had been irnonth IN Paris, and the
French doctor Mr. Wiltbank called in
talked of a ''want of Tone" and "raising the
spirits" CT his patient, bat Sophie wept all
the long. lonely nights, believing her fatal
discovery had killed her cousin
But it was Sophie who, one day in Novem-
Der received visitor alone, visitor who
sent up little note that sent her with flying
feet to receive him.
He was still in the salon, when Sophie
came into the sitting room, their own pri-
vate salon, where Grace was sitting at the
window.
She wanted to ten her news calmly, to
avoid exciting the inmates, but she broke
down, sobblng:
s'Gracei Gracei Will you ever forgive
me? 1t was all mistake. She was Ger
ards wife, Ernests twin brothers. wifel
He is here!'
"Herel Ernest herel'
And Sophie flew out again. She sent him
in alone, for she said:
81 must watch, or uncle will murder you
before you have chance to explain"
Ernest entered the room, where pale
shadow of his bright Grace rose to receive
him, to fall into his arms weeping now as IN
all her despair she had not wept. But there
were no more tears. Graces roses came
back in their happiness, and there was
wedding in Paris, where Sophie was brides
maid and hosts of American friends offered
congratulations.
But as Sophie sagely observed, shaking
her pretty head:
sit was nearly a tragedy, for if uncle and
Ernest had met too soon, there is no saying
what might have happened" - Anna
Shields, in N Y. Ledger.