The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-02-27

ish ideals, his boys admiration of great
men, his vague dreams as a youth of some
| greatness which he would achieve, some
aided lusteF which he would bring to his
name and race. Where had all these
gone? In what had all these ended? In
the lassitude and languor of safety, in the
! nerveless indifference of a polished pes
simist, in the evaporated fumes OF in
Vulnerable pleasures quickly tasted and
exhausted.
AT least have enjoyed" he thought.
Gould Aubrey say as much ?"
But though his philosophy consoled, his
| conscience did not sltisfy him. 1t was
not for mere self-indulgence alone that
his fathers had lived; it was not for mere
self-abandonment that his country had
been made what it once had been.
Great men had, indeed, in all ages been
lovers of pleasure, but pleasure had been
their pastime not their sole pursuit. He
walked to and fro the length of the now
| warm and Illuminated rooms, and his sur
veys OF his past brought him more dissat-
| isfactlon than contentment. To men he
knew that he seemed but an idler; to
women, perhaps, he seemed a traitor
The vision of his wife, alone in that
! lonely little house, amongst the dense sea
| fOgs and the bare black orchards, haunted
| him with pain; and the memory of the
woman whom he loved, as he had left her
in the splendor of her beauty, and of the
| golden evening sunlight pouring through
her painted chamber, haunted him with
that irresistible and unrestricted power
which she always possessed over him. In
| the depression of his solitary musings he
seemed in his own sight unworthy of
either OF them, and wholly undeserving
/ of their COnStancV their rpDrQf
With the morning hours of the follow
| ing day he rode toward Christslea. Be-
| fore he slept he sent for the old house.
keeper of Ladysrood. She had been with
his mother on her death-bed, and had
nursed and played with him as child
! He could ask of her what he could not
bring himself to ask of any of the men.
Tell me, Margaret" be said to her as
soon "a she stood before him in the warm
red drawing-room, where John Vernon
had babe his daughter live for honor if
she could not live for happiness-"tell me,
do you ever see my wife ?"
The old woman was silent for a while
the tears started to her eyes.
"Alas, my dear lord, that ever you
should have to ask me that" she muir
INJURED.
Never mind why ask you; answer
me. Do you often see her or ever see
her?"
Il have seen her very rarely, my lord,
and never to speak to; it was in the open
air, and my lady Stunned me-"
"How does she lool ?''
"She looks older, but she looks well,
my lord. The air is very fine and strong
at Christslea."
Guilderoy felt sense of modification,
for which he hated himself.
"She looks well, do you say?"
"Not i'll, my lord, but much older"
"You must hear OF her often from the
servants or the villagers2
"There is little to hear, my lord"
"You mean that she leads such a retired,
such a secluded life?"
THAT is so, my lord. 1t is the same
life as her father led: it suited him, no
doubt, but it cannot suit a childless woman
OF her years"
Guilderoy sighed impatiently.
at was her own choice"
The housekeeper was silent; she re-
spected him too much to contradict him,
and she respected truth too we'll to agree
with him.
"She has all the dogs, they say?" he
asked.
eyes, my lord; she was ever very fond
of the tykes."
"And how does she spend her timer"
Reading, they say, my lord, when she
is indoors: and always out when the
weather holds, and ofttimes even when it
is very bad"
"And whom does she see2''
"No one, believe, my lord"
"Not my sister"
"Her ladyship has never been nigh
her"
He hesitated moment, then said:
"But she receives visits from my cousin
Aubrey, am sure?"
"Well, my lord, he is the only one of
his family who has stood by her"
Il am grateful to him."
Nevertheless his face flushed with an
emotion which was not one of pleasure.
''ls he often there?'
soften, my lord, one may say, for one
who is ever toiling for the country as he
is, and has so little time left to himself"
at is very good of him. You may go,
Margaret Good night"
The old woman curtsied, and withdrew /;
! but as she drew near the door she took
courage and came few steps back to-
/ ward him. ''My dear lord, If | may
make so bold, my lady is very young to be
/ left in that lonely life. Maybe she chose
/ II, out some say Stle was drove 10 IL. Sne
NAV have her faults, but she has more
virtues. And-and-she has lost her two
/ children, my lord. Will you not 60 and
see her now you are here, if only for the
sake OF that one memory, my lord? ?"
Guilderoy's eyes grew dim.
'No, no, l can not do that" be said
hastily and sternly. "But you are good
woman to urge it, Margaret. You do not
offend me. Good night"
Good night to you, my lord"
/ The door closed on her, and he was
alone with his own thoughts, which were
/ painful companions.
He had an intense wish to see Gladys, a
wish stronger than his anger against her.
! But all that remained TO him of loyalty to
/ a woman who had trusted him to be faith
I full to her forbade him such double du-
/ plicity. The words, 'Go, you have honor"
were ever in his remembrance. Any in
terview with his wife, any effort even to
seek one, any single word which could
even distantly foreshadOw tine faintest
reconciliation with her. were forbidden to
/ him; he had plainly and forever re-
| nounced any possibility of such when he
! had accepted the conditions on which the
woman he loved had again become his.
To have accepted them only to break
! them to have had the fullness OF her faith
4 only to cheat and evade it, as a man can
} avar do if ha wills uOuld hava aeeued IN