Iuka reporter. (Iuka, Miss.) 1888-1894, 1890-07-24
POOR LITTLE EMILY,
The History Of a Prudent
Marriage.
BY MISS nIULoCK.
CHAPTER VII

orief, simple letter dictated by Lady Bow
eroank at her bedside, and merely Stain,
mat she wished to see her old friend again
as she did not think she VS. long for thi
woiid-what he said, or what he felt. thi,
history cannot tell He was not a mar
lKeiy to have confided much of his owr
previous history to his wife, nor. whel
Mrs. knowle afterward saw the lady. dlt
that acute matron think her a person likel,
10 nave evlnced much interest concerninii
her husbands early fortunes or lost love-
q nice, pretty-faced, gentle creature, Ian.
guld, and little uninteresting. beside,
being little lazy, as Indian ladies are an
70 90. doubtless the marriage had grown
as SO many marriages do grow, out Of mere
circumstances, and after it the husband
nad gone back very much to his own ole
iife-the life of action. or business, or, al
pest. OF generally kindly benevolence-s
NE IN which his wife took little part, or
indeed, was capable of taking it.
When John Stenhouse visited Liverpool
for, alter showing the letter to Mrs.
Stenhouse, In whom it did not excite the
least curiosity, he started north at once,
every one OF his old acquaintance, es.
pecially the Knowles, noticed visible
change IN h1m-a certain hardness, reti-,
cence and self-containedness, deeper than
even the reserve of his bachelor days-as
If the man had withdrawn into himself.
went his own ways, ana carried out his own
life with a grave and sad Independence
He spoke of his home and of his wife with
careful tenderness, but his eve did moi
molsten nor his face kndle when naming
either, and there was nothing of that total
change from frosty GOODNESS to sunshipv
warmth which is often seen in the looks
ana manner OF a man who marries ever SO
iate IN life, it he marries with all his
neart In the union. In this mans heart
GOOD ana true as it was, and would ALWAYS
remain faitLini dill death, for honor's and
consciences 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
glance, the sacred marriage torch, ever
burning, yet ever unconsumed, had never
really been lighted-neyer would be.
But Stenhouse had always been silent
and undemonstrative man; and his expert
ence abroad had made him more SO. ana
more sedulous than even in his youtb
over the keeping up ofNall outward OBJ
servances. 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 the cir
of her marriage to Sir John.
md the letter found in Mr.. Kendars desk
lfterward, he exhibited outwardly nothing
more than sad gravity; in fact, he hardly
'poke SIX consecutive words.
so like mani" said Mrs. Knowle, half
bitterly, when she was retailing the con.
'ersatlon to her husband.
1 think 1T was like q man, " said honest
edward Knowle; and his wife. woman a.
he was, quick, impulsive, and hard to be.
leve in what she did not clearly see. recoc.
lzed dimly what her husband meant. She
expected, and in years to come learned
laiiy to respect more, the manly endurance
'hich, beholding the absolute and iney-'
liable, accepts, it, and, whatever the man
ufers, makes no sign,
hank you," Mr.. Stenhouse had said.
oldlng out his hand to Mrs. Knowle'
thank you for all your kindness; to me
~ self nd-to her! Is she able to see
nce?" -
Mrs. Knowle ordered the carriage. and
ley drove across the country-the miles
pom miles of flat country which mark the
liverpool shore-a long level of roads.
elds, and hedges-sometimes green. Der.
APPS, and not ugly, but tame and uninter-
sting as loyeless life-as the life which
ad ber- melted out to these two human
features, who, left to their own holy in
incts, would have met and mingled to-
ether, and flowed on harmoniously AZ ona
erfect existence now.
Mr.. Stenhouse and Mrs. Knowle con.
ersed versed very little during their drive
ID then not concerning ANYTHING of the |
asst. Only once, with unnecessary eau |
On, Mrs. Knowle screwed up her courage |
its utmost pitch, and said:
Perhaps it would be better if YOU did not |
eak to Emily about her father" John |
enhouse's face turned purple-red, and |
S eyes famed.
mo, will remember that he is dead
adj. And within minute or two he said
the bitterest thing he was ever known to
Mrs. Knowle, my father died 4
onth before was born, and my mother
ven years afterward. Perhaps it's true
lat cynical friend of mine used to de-
re- that wheE he chose q wife. he
'ula take care she was miserable Or
an"
but they were reaching the door, where
arcely any visitors now entered excent
cd Mrs. Knowle. Soon they passed
'ough the splendid empty house, where
mistress had been missing so long thai
absence was scarcely noticed. The
go drawlng-room was just as bripLt
N though the sofa in the corner where
My used to lie was vacated, and had
n for some days. She now occupied a
all room much quieter and farther re-
we'd, which had been hastily fitted nm
her comfort. In few days more she
uld vanish from that into her own cham
and bed, never to be carried thence
carried away in that narrow coach Of
rnal rest whore we all shall be laid some /
:. And that day was not very far off /
to the weary soul and worn out BODY
Emily Bowerbank. As she said manya
g, life had been too hard for her: She
glad to go TO sleep.
hen the strong, hearty, healthy man. %
young in years, and with all his life II
re him, passed ont Of the bright, cheer il
drawing room; full of all SIGHTS and h
'ds, rich furniture, the scent of exotics. II
the shrill note OF cage bird singing o.
at small inner chamber whore fhe fv
was subdued, and there was faint ~
essiye perfume to make I'D for the lack
esh alr; while ssdate old woman. the Ii,