The weekly Union times. [volume] (Union C.H., South Carolina) 1871-1894, 1889-04-12
POOR LITTLE EMILY,
The History Of a Prudent
Marriage.
Bx MISS muLooK.
CHAPTER VII


when he got Mrs. Knowles letter-a very
brief, simple letter dictated by Lady Bow
erbank at her bedside, and merely stating
that sho wished to see her old friend again,
as she did not think she W q long for this
world-what he said, or what he felt, this
history cannot tell Ho was not q man
likely to have confided much of his own
previous history to his wife, nor, when
Mrs. knowle afterward saw the lady, did
that acute matron think her person likely
to have evinced much interest concerning
her husbands curly fortunes or lost love-
nice, pretty-faced, gentle creature, Ian
guid, and little uninteresting, besides
being little lazy, as Indian ladies are apt
70 be. Doubtless the marriage had grown,
as 80 many marriages. do grow. out of mere
circumstances, and after it the husband
had gone back very much to his own old
ne the life Of action, or business, or, ut
post. OF generally kindly benevolence-a
lie i'll VII ch his wife tro.; l;ttlo part, or,
indeed, was capable Of taking it.
Whom John Stcnhouse visited Liverpool
for, after showing tho letter to Mrs.
Stenhouse. in whom it did not excite the
least curiosity, he started north at once,
ovcry ono OF his old acquaintances. es-
pecia'ly tho Knowles, noticed visible
change IN him-a certain hardness, reti-
ccnce and self-containedncss, deeper than
even the reserve of his bachelor days as
II the man had withdrawn into himself,
went his own ways, AMI carried out his own
life with grave and sad independence.
he spoke of his home and Of his wife with
o careful tenderness, but his eye d,d not
moisten nor his face kindle when naming
either, and there was nothing Of that total
change from frosty coldness TO sunshiny
warmth which is often seen in the looks
and manner of man who marries ever SO
late In life, if he marries with oil his
heart In the union. In this mans heart,
good and true as 1t was, and would always
remain faithful till death, for honor's and
conscience's sake, to the woman he had
taken to himself, still, as any one who
knew the difference could plainly see, and
as Edward and Emma Knowle saw at O
glance, the saesAd ::ss...ssSit5ssSo turyiiy ever
burning yet. ever unconsumed, had never
really been lighted-never would bo.
But Stenhouso had always been q silent
and undemonstratirc man: and his expert
once abroad had made him moro SO, and
more sedulous than even in his youth
over the keeping up Of oil outward OBJ
servancos. Even when he sat listening to
Mrs. Knowles account of Lady Bower
banks failing health and the hopelessness
OF her recovery, and again to that other
story, which it had been arranged she
should tell him, and not Emily, of tho cir
cumstances of her marriage to Sir John,
afterward, he exhibited outwardly nothing
moro than sad gravity; in fact, he hardly
spoke six consecutive words.
50 like manp said Mrs. Knowle, half
bitterly, when she was retailing tho con-
versation to her husband.
II think it was like man." said honest
Edward Knowle; and his wife, woman as
she was, quick, impulsive. and hard to be-
leye IN what she did not clearly see. recog-
nizcd dimly what her husband meant. She
respected, and in years TO come learned
daily to respect more, the manly endurance
which, beholding the absolute and inev-
ttable, accepts, it, and, whatever the man
suffers, makes no sign,
THANK you," Mr.. Stenhouse had said,
holding out his hand to Mrs. Knowle,
thank you for all your kindness; to me
mop If so, had we not better 60 al
onco?"
Mrs. Knowle ordered the carriage, and
thoy drove across the Countrywide milos
upon miles of fiat country which mark tho
Liverpool shore-a long lcvol of roads,
fields, and hedges-sometimes green, per-
baps, and not ugly, but tame and unintcr-
esting as o loveless life-ns the life which
had been meted out to these two human
creatures, who, left to their own holy in
stincts, would have met and mingled to-
gether, and flowed on harmoniously as one
perfect existence now.
MIR. Stenhouse and Mrs. Knowle con-
versed versed very little during their drive,
and then not concerning anything of the
past. Only once, with unnecessary eau
ton, Mrs. Knowle screwed up her courage
to it's utmost pitch, and said:
Perhaps it would be better if you did not
speak to Emily about her father" John
Stenhouse's face turned purple-red. and
his eyes famed.
"No, will remember that he is dead
dead" And within minute or two he said
tho bitterest thing he was ever known to
say-"Alrs. Knowle, my father died
month boforo l was born, and my mother
seven years afterward. Perhaps it's true
what cynical friend Of mine used to de-
clare, 'hat when he chose wife, he
would take care she was miserable Or
phan.'"
But they were reaching the door, where
scarcely any visitors now entered except
good Mrs. Knowle. Soon they passed
through the splendid empty house, where
the mistress had been missing SO long that
her absence was scarcely noticed. The
large drawing-room was just as bright,
even though the sofa in the corner where
Emily used to lie was vacated, and had
been for some days. She now occupied a
small room much quieter and farther re-
moved, which had been hastily fitted up
for her comfort. In few days more she
would vanish from that into her own cham
ber and bed, never to bo carried thence
till carried away in that narrow coach of
eternal rest whore We all shall be laid some
day. And that day was not very far oil
now to the weary soul and worn out body
of Emily Bowerbank. AS she said many u
time, life had been too hard for her; she
was glad to 90 TO sleep.
When the strong, hearty, healthy man,
still young in years, and with oil his life
before him, passed out of tho bright, ch, er-
full drawing room; full Of all sights and
sounds, rich furniture, tho scent of exoiics,
and the shrill note of cage-brd singing
to that small inner chamber whore the
light was subdued. and there was faint,
oppressive perfume to mako up for tho Iack
of fresh air: while n sedate old woman. the