The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1889-07-07
} RES Err VED.l

fected. But do not let us reproach each
other-it's too late, and can do no good now
and if you were misled-"
81 was, curse itr'
81 am very sorry; perhaps may have
been TO blame in making any explanation
to Capt Seaforth at all after had married
you"
ITO blame! OF course you were to
blame"
Let it rest so then; have lived much
alone lately, and have begun to think more
than did-you see was very young when
we were married-and I had cared very
much for Kenard Seaforth."
"You need not tell me, said Audley,
turning away his head.
Let that be my excuse then; we made
great mistake to marry, and it was sure to
end unhapplly: but we need not make it
worse by speaking and feeling bitterly to
eachother now when it is all ended"
Audley stared gloomily at Ruth as she
said this, and her manner, so different to
what it used to be, surprised him.
You mean to live on here, then!" he said
a moment later
"Yes, you see the house is cheap, and as
my father is poor it suits him."
You need not reproach me with being
poor at any rate! That is your own fault;
1t Is certainly my wish to provide you with
a proper income"
st is very good of you, but we have
quite enough. And" she added with a
smile, 81 make little money now by writ
ing stories:
absurd folly"
sob no, indeed it is not; it gives me
probationary, and keeps me from think
ing"
She was looking very pretty, Just like the
and loved in this very place. And as he
looked softer feeling toward her stole
into his heart than he had ever felt since be
believed she had told Seaforth the whole
story of their marriage.
Are you quite well now?" she asked
moment later
"As we'll as 1 shall ever be, l suppose; but
this COMPOUNDED leg of mine often pains
me-"
You are standing. Won't you sit
down?"
He sat down, still looking at Ruth; won
dering what had changed her so, and made
her whole manner and the expression of her
face SO much gentler and moro composed
than they used to be.
rs your father at homeF he asked.
mo; he is with poor Col. Kenyon, you
know"
Your life must be fairly lonely then. Do
you ever see any of the people aboutn
Ruth shook her head.
81 go nowhere" she said
Then what on earth do you do with your
self?"
Again Ruth smiled
II find plenty to do" she answered
AT all events in future | hope you'll &C
cept decent income from mes"
No; you must not ask me to do that
GU hate me too much, | suppOseE'
asked Audley, with some bitterness.
1T is not that-but our lives are parted
and could not bear to take your money"
y GU are an extraordinary grip
Perhaps l am; you see living in a place
like this one wants so little money"
Some women are always wanting it."
well, l do not; at least not much"
Once more Audley was silent for few
moments. He had gone there with the bit
terest feelings in his heart against Ruth,
but her sweet girlish face, her grave gentle
manner, and perhaps the knowledge that
she had only seen Seaforth once siuce she
had left his roof, and that he was now in
India, and that Ruth had only at least par
TALLY confided in him, naturally influenced
Audley, who sat down with downcast eyes,
and with a sort of sullen shame of his own
conduct gradually stealing over him.
Suddenly he rose.
well, it's no use saying any more about
it, suppose" he said; II am both glad and
sorry to have heard what you have told me
good daym
He did not put out his hand but left the
room as quickly as he could in his disabled
condition, and Ruth watched him go, and
| then tried to return to her usual morning $
| work, with very restless and uneasy
| heart.
Had she been to blame-indirectlv to
| blame, for poor Arthur Beaton's death? she
| thought. By one of those subtle undercur-
| rents which affect so strangely the upper
| surface of our lives, she had -unconsciously
| helped TO send the young man to his I'M
| timely doom, and the idea was inexpressibly
| painful to her.
| In the meantime Audley had returned to
| the fort, for he had taken up his abode at
J his old quarters during his brief visit to
| Headfort, and he went there nov also in a
| very disturbed and dissatisfied condition of
i mind. He unhappily had contracted a
| habit of drinking deeply of late, and to
| dull his feelings of remorse and self blame,
| he at once called for brandy, and while he
was half stupefying himself, Maj Cary,
| who was an old friend of his, came into his
| rooms to see him.
| They talked of various things, and at last
! Audley. with some hesitation of manner,
asked Maj. Cary if he ever saw his wife.
| "Of course you know we are SeparatedW
he added.
81 have heard So" answered Cary, cast
ing down his eyes. ''No, 1 never see Mrs
Audley, or at least very rarely; but often
| near OF neT.
Hear of her?" said Audley, sharply, and
with jealous pang darting through his
| heart. 'How, and what do you hear of
! hers"
"Well, the truth is, Audley, your wife is
so very good to the poor people in the vii
lage that one cannot fail to hear of her.
One of our married men lives somewhere
in the back streets here and he tells me
| Mrs. Audley spends her time in doing good
| and helping anyone who wants help"
us this soE said Audley, uaeasily.
sit is an undoubted fact; this mans wife
| has been great invalid for a long time,
and Mrs. Audley has been very kind to her !;
indeed they look upon her as a sort of min
istering angel, and this jackson speaks Of
her with the deepest gratitude"
II remember the man." said Audley
slowly, and then he changed the converse
ton. But after Major Cary left him, his
mind Instantly reverted to. what he had
been told, and he began to feel completely
ashamed of the manner in which he had
acted to Ruth.
II suppose she will never forgive me-"
he thought modify: tits been bad bust
ness from beginning to end, and that
cursed woman Jezebel has done all the
| mischief
He was very restless the next day. wan
dering out and in the fort and past toe old
house in High-street many times, unable to
make up his mind. he wished to see Ruth