The weekly Union times. [volume] (Union C.H., South Carolina) 1871-1894, 1889-03-08

Q. H, SOUTH CAROLINA MARoH 8 1889.

was too old for that. But he Lost soms
OF his crotchety, old bachelor ways: moved
with q certain air Of contentment and
pride about his handsome house, and
was carefully mindful Of his delicate
snd sweet-looking young wife, whom
he took to state dinner parties, and
introduced among the blooming, fiorid.
ana little too conspicuously dressed
hyerpooi aides, whore she looked not
unlike lily Of the valley In the midst of a
bed Of tulips and ranunculuses.
30 they lived their lives, those two. Not
. domestic life BY any means; Mr.. Bower
Dank had never been used to that, nor Mrs /.
BowerDank neither. She had dreamed Of
IL once; OF the honor and happiness of be-
ing poor mans wife; of mending his
snirts and stockings; of looking after his
dinners and making the best Of everything:
counting no economies mean that were TO
nghten the toll OF the bread winner; no Ia
bors hard that were to add to his comfort.
But this was not Emily's lot. She was o
rich woman, married to q rich man; moth
ing was expected Of her but elegant idle
ness: Once this might have been to her
weariness intolerable; but she had long
neen passive and languid. glad to do moth
since nobody ever insisted upon her being
anything-e life that some would have
called happy, and, especially in its outside
aspect, k@T3 snvied exceedingly.
shes an old mans darling" said one
or the young Liverpool ladies, comment
ing ON Mrs. Bowerbank to her
neighbor and occasional. though not
Its better, anyhow, than being q young
mans slave.'"
"1,m not sure Of that, half -grimly, half
comically. replied the other. "I hope, nv
dear, you'll be pretty much Of q slave to
your husband (as am this day to Edward
knowle), or you'd best not marry at all."
But such love-Rervitude was not Emily's
lot She never trotted after John Bower
bank with his big boots in the morning, or
brushed his coat, or found him his gloves;
she never ran to open the door Of evenings
or settled his cushions for his after. dinner
sleep. They had servants to do that. 40
why should she2 In truth, Il never oo-
cured to her to do it.
She dressed herself carefully and sat at
the head OF hex husbands table; she drove
IN her husbands carriage about the coun-
or she paid few courtesy calls after the
entertainments to which, arrayed in the
most perfect of costumes, he seemed
pleased to take her. He never was cross
with her; never asked her IL she was
happy; tried, doubtless. in his own way,
70 make her so. for he was O kindly ma.
tured man; but he was not observant, nor
he was old, and all his youth, il he ever
had any. had been buried long ago in Hale
Mrs. Knowle told, not ut the time, but
afterward, how, enc Christmas Day, which
was one Of the rare holidays at the Ex-
change-and MIR. Bowerbank was q man
VINO never took q holiday illegally-she
saw him crossing the long, frosted
though he had mot been married many
months, to stand by that grave, of which
the mossy headstone still remained, but
the mound had long grown level with the
turf. If his eyes could have peered be-
low, he would have found nothing of wife
,3hJiksf wiYS NOV Vile VIZ sth thaH fsbIShd
humble, hearth; possibly another .
might -. .-i
Yes, this was what they said of him. the
nl-natured portion Of his friends; how,
since the offer of the baronetcy. oertaia
dawning pride Of race, tho truly English
wish to found family, had come into the
head Of grave john Bowerbank; that ac-
oordingly he had, In his grave and practi-
cal way, conceived the idea, however late
in life. Of marrying, and had accordingly
looked round on all his eligible young lady
acquaintances, until, in his practical eye,
he found one who, for her own sweet Sc
dateness, he thought would be o suitable
mate for an elderly man; and accordingly;
without much inquiry as to her feelings,
and having. indeed, arranged the whole
matter in the most business like fashion
with his old acquaintance, her father, he
married Emily Kendall.
But when, after year-the baronetcy
being again offered and accepted-there
appeared no heir to these honors, un.
do tod L. G,r ToIx,
pointed. OF course, he did not show it; he
was too good o man for that: but tho
placid mien became colder and colder; and
though they were not unhappy-it takes Q
certain amount Of hope even to create dis
appointment-still,d day by day, the hus-
band and wife went more their own
ways; saw less and less Of one another, as
is quite easy in the daily life Of wealthy
people, who have, or think they have SO,
many duties owed TO their position and to
society. And though Emily still smiled
her soft, languid. wistful smile-and no.
body ever said an unkind word to her, and
she, dear soul, had never said an unkind
word to anybody in her life, still her
cheek grew paler and paler, her eyes grew
lareer and larger, with q sort of far-away
look, as IL gazing forward into q not distant
heaven for something on earth never found
-something lost or incemplete-some-
thing without which, though man should
give the whole substance Of his house Tor,
Il would be utterly in vain.
Marriage must be heaven or hell. Not
at first, perhaps. for time softens and
mends all things; but after time has had
its fair license and failed; and then
comes the dead blank, the hopeless en-
durance, even II the sharper pangs do not
intervene; the feeling that the last chance
In life has been taken, the last die thrown
--and lost.
Probably John Bowerbank did not feel
thus; his feelings wore never remarkably
keen: nnd he had his business, his days
occupied on Change, and his evenings de-
voted several times o week, to the long
splendid, intensely dull and entirely re-
spectacle Liverpool dinner parties. But
his wife, left oil day at home, with no du.
ties to fll up the idle, aimless. weary
hours, with no children Of her own, and
too listless and inactive to adopt the sub.
atitute of other childless matrons-Mr
Knowle, Tor instance--and take everybody
else's children, who needed 1t, under heI
mctherly wing-to such as poor Emily, q
rnarriaOa Ike hera most resembles heinz