Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1890-04-19

two stations further on.
1.-THE Monument.' mark laner Nc
further passengers invaded his carriage.
81 can't stand this any longer, and
the condensed fog chokes one. l shall
get out at the next station and go back.
''Aldgate.''
Out he Jumped and crossed to the re-
turn platform, literally feeling his way.
The underground station at Aldgate Is
often quite dark in the middle of sum-
mer, and on this day the fog was dense.
He found his way TO seat and $50 thick
was the darkness) did not discover. til,
he had taken his place at the end of 1t
that there were two other people nea'
him. One of them, man, was speaking
in disagreeable querulous voice.
''I'm sure it's not my fault if l ger
nothing to do. l am always trying tc
find something.
''Yes: in other peoples pockets" an
swered a woman's voice. you wan;
the wage, not the work"
"Good heavens! that is Millicent's
voice, exactly" thought stephen; what
an extraordinary resemblance
'.What becomes Of money in your
hands can't conceive" she went on.
sit is Millicent's voice, What in God :
name is she doing?" and Stephen tried
to catch glimpse of the figure that was
screened from him by the man between
them, and still more so by the darkness.
What have you done with the money
l sent you last?"
Ozone with it? Spent it, of course.
A family can not live on nothing. Ii
was not much for you to give-you, who
live in luxury: you, whose husband il
rich; you -"
''My husband is very far from rich
and if he were SO it would benefit you in
no way. Every farthing | have given
you for your wife was my own, made by
my own work. l. woman, worked to
help woman, as | would man, but not
such as you"
whatever you may have given you
owed to my WIFE
81 owed her?"
eyes; for taking from her what was
hers by right
Shall let this brute go on speaking
to her." said Stephen to himself, hold
ing the edge of the seat tightly in each
hand.
''And now that she is i'll and in want
you in your prosperity grudge little
help to her and her hungry children"
II have lowered myself by listening
to you thus far" said Millicent, lin or
der to see if you would not in time say
what expected of you-what l waited
for. Now that you have done so, | will
answer you fully this once and never
speak with you again. l feel that you
can not nave lived your lie without
some ones having called you liar and
coward, or without your knowing that
many had a right to do so; therefore !
will not pause to add my testimony to
theirs. When your first letter came last
year, addressed to my husband, to wait
an answer, he was, happily, away from
home. To save time, l, contrary to my
inclination, opened your appeal. Ii
contained a manly. reference to your
wife, and my husbands regard for her
in past wears, and a cringing demand
for money for her and your children, if
not for you, and it ended with a sug-
gestion as to the possible unpleasant
consequences to his domestic happiness
/ if the subject of your letter became
/ known to me. Every detail of the
| story, as far as it concerned himself, my
| husband had long since told me, and no /
mud thrown by you could shake my .
trust
''You lie when you say that l took .
from your wife what was hers by right. /
{ NJ "a Low hnr wit 81
heart and soul, and she made him suffer !
bitterly But he had loved her, as | say
and for his sake l con ented (if the mis-
cradle story should never reach his ears
to give him further PAIN to help the
woman who had repaid his love with be-
travail. his confidence with treachery,
but who had been dear to him before he
gave to me what | took from no one else.
You lie again when you speak of her
present suffering and the wants of her
children-silence!' as the man attempted
to sneak "Do you think that in dealing
with one like you sh uld take no steps
to verify your statements? Of the two
children that lived with you and that
you called hers, one only was your wife's,
and has been dead six months, you cur.
And your wretched wife flung from her
nv husbands love and trust, not for the
love of another man, but for life with
you, who dragged her to the mire in
which she died nearly month ago.
Nearly a week since had proof of all
| am saying, and my only reason for con-
senting TO see you again, as you asked,
was to tell you of this, and also to warn
you that if you ever communicate with.
or modest me or my husband in any way,
| have means to make that your last pub
lie performance for considerable time.
As she said the last words, Millicent
rose, walking straight up to and getting
into the train that had just run into the
station. The man she had been speak
ing with sat still while she moved away,
but as she opened the carriage door, he
started up with an oath SIS if to follow
ner Stephen Mostyn's umbrella be-
coming unfortunately mingled with the
swearer's legs, he was precipitated pain
/ fully on to the platform, as the train
( left the station, and Stephen bounded
up the steps to the surface of the earth.
/ Mrs. Mostyn had dressed for dinner
/ that evening, and was sitting by the fire
/ when her husband came in.
+ "Well. Stephen, when you do follow
my advice you follow it generously,
must say. Have you been out ever
/ since l saw you last?"
very nearly"
"And walking, or in the underground,
Z ~. on 20 ton of