The weekly Union times. [volume] (Union C.H., South Carolina) 1871-1894, 1889-04-12

memories Of il, and OF her, rushed upon
MN with an agony irrepressible. He
grasped Mrs. Knowle by tho arm as she
was going into the sick room. ~ . =,
nressnisv mMs 3 minute-stayl-say III come
And he rushed away, right down the
staircase, and through the first open door
Tor Is was high summer, and the air was
fuu OF sunshine and rosos-into the garden.
~ was half an hour before he returned,
Which geyc tims iar,t them 70 meet a alone,
friends over whom hung the sacred shadow
Of tho eternal parting lat least the parting
which We call eternal in this world though
1t often makes closer and nearer, for the
rest Of life, those who otherwise would
haye been forever divided.
Perhaps Emily felt this; for as she raised
herself little from her sofa, and held out
her hand to Mr.. Stenhouse, there was not
, trace OF agitation or confusion in her
manner.
q! am very glad to see you. 1t was so
Kind OF you to come. Did you leave your
wife quite well2 and all the children?"
Commonplace, simple words they were
tho simplest, most natural, that could
possibly be ohosen-and yet they were the
best and safest. They took off the edge
OF that sharp agony which was thrilling
through every fiber Of tho strong mans
eeart. They brought him back TO the COM
monplaco daily world, to his daily duties,
and his ordinary ways. The wholesome.
aelirious past. And though it was Emily's
old smile, her very tone Of voice, and
trick Of manner she had-how we'll ho re-
called It. of half extending her hand, draw
Ing 1t back, and then putting it forward
again, with the uncertainty that was the
weak point In her character-still he had
no desire to snatch her TO his arms, and
hold her there, in her old, familiar place,
like any mortal woman. He felt inclined
rather to stand; apart and gaze at her, as
she lay, oonsecrated from earthly emotion,
In her almost superhuman peace, or else to
fall on his knees and worship her, as Dante
worshiped his Beatrice when he met her in
the fields OF Paradise. And he found him
sclf powerless to say any other words than
one or two, as brief and inexpensive as
her own.
MY wife and the children are well. 1t
was very good Of you to send for me, after
! had been 80 rude, 80 ungrateful almost,
to your husband"
: Emily bent her head, acquiescing; and
Then, as IL with O great effort:
II had something to say TO you some--
thing thought you would listen to, from
me, now. i entreat you to accept this
spartpership. Il will be. o good thing for,
you. and IN equniiy good Thing Tor Sff
John and Mr.. Knowle. You would like Sir
John very much If you knew him very we'll.
He knew nothing about you and mo till
lately. And he has been such good, good
husband to me-"
"Thank God for that!, Tiff he had
been anything else than good to you"
And then, shocked by tho sound of his
own harsh voice jarring on the stiffness of
the room, and still moro 80 by perceiving
the sudden tremor that came over Lady
Boworbank, he stopped, recognizing the
sanctity Of sickness-of near advancing
death.
Yes" he added, almost In whisper, "I
feel very grateful to Sir John Bowerbank:
am not ashamed of his knowing-in-
deed, I have been asking Mrs. Knowle to
tell him-how very poor We are, and are
likely to remain; and that If he really still
wishes me to accept his offer, will do my
utmost to prove deserving of it."
AWill your oh, will you?" clasping her
hands In her old, pretty childish way at
anything she was very glad of.
John Stenhouse turned away. -zg
vt ID not easy, but will DO 1t because
you wish it-for your sake.0
mo, do 1t for your own," said Emily,
solemnly, with all the old childish manner
gone. @Do 1t, that you may take wise
mans advantage Of this chance Of getting
on In the world, and living fully the life
that is before you. Think, a life Of twenty,
thirty years, with work to do, and money
to use, and influence TO make the most of,
for the good Of yourself and all that belong
to Won. That Is what want. want you
to lead your own noble, active, useful life
Just as once planned it--though IL was
not to be beside me, and though shall not
even see 1t; for am going away, john
you know that2"
He could not deny 1t; he did not even
attempt to do 80; he just moved his lips,
but they would not form sound.
Yes, going away-in few days, or q
few weeks moro. TO where know shall
be here. ! Ionly wished before went TO
let you know the truth. She," glancing to
Mrs. Knowle, "she has told You all?"
les, ne mutiereG, Dut attempted not,
nor did Emily offer, any further explaua-
ton. One husband, the other wife,
with the shadow Of the dead father between
thcm-zit was impossible. The past was
over and done. But the present was peace
ALI peace.
aAnd now good-by, and God bless you'll"
said Emily, family. @Give my love to your
mo; never told her,
sAhl we'll. let that be as you choose.
Ano one th1ng-I know 1 have forgotten
one thing that had to soy to you--Mrs.
Knowle, what is itf Oh, my head. Please,
Mrs. Knowle, will you help me2" with the
querulous tone and wandering eye which
told at once how fast her sand OF life was
give you thisl" taking valuable diamond
brooch from under her pillow, @and to ask
you IL you ever have little daughter Of
your own, to give 1t 10 her from me. And
perhaps, II your wife did not object, you
wouldn't mind calling her Emily2"
Nobody answered or stirred, not even
Mrs. Knowle, who stood at the window
In nurses vacant place, and John Stem
house, who sat opposite the sofa where
Lady Bowerbank lay sat, with his hanos
clasped tightly on his knee, looking at her,
as II he wished to carry away the last pic
ture Of her, vivid ~ life and youth, per-
manent as love and death.