Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1890-10-17
inOnyI
But fate rules all men.

earnestly assured her that would become
an organ grinder or bank clerk rather
than lose her, and then she seemed down
right angry and sent me away again.
Women are strangely inconsistent!
She always sent me away, but I Away.
came back
After about a month of this torture
CHANGED to find her one soft May twilight
without the aunt, sitting by a window il
the fragrant dusk.
She had flowers in her hand-fowers
had sent her-and sat looking down al
them, her strong, pure profile clear against
the saffron sky.
came in quietly, and stood watching il
rapture of hope and admiration, anf
while l watched l saw great pearl teal
roll down among my violets.
That was enough.
sprang forward, knelt beside her,
caught her hands in mine, drew her te
me, I cried exultantly: "You love me
And I-ah, God, how love you!'
Even then she would have put me from
her. She insisted that did not know hel
yet; that she ought to tell me- But I hel6
her close and kissed away her words, anc
said: "You love me, perfect one. and love
you. The rest will be right"
Then she laid her white hands on my
shoulders and looked deep into my eyes.
81 believe that is true" said she, "and ]
will marry you, Edward
She dropped her face on my shoulder
then-that face Of fire and roses-and we
were still.
\
1t is but two months time from then; ]
have been married a fortnight. The first
week was heaven and the second was hell
Oh, my God! my wife! That young Diana te
be, but have borne it week have
feared and despised myself. have sus
pected and hated myself have discov
cred and cursed myself. Aye, and cursed
her and him, whom this day shall kill!
1t is now 5 o'clock. I cannot kill him
until 4, for he comes not till then.
Let me think.
First, to kill him. That is simple and
easily settled
Shall kill her?
If she lived could ever see her again:
ever touch that hand, those lips-that
within two weeks of marriage No, she
shall die!
And if she lived what would be before
her but more shame, and more till she
felt it herself?
Far better that she die!
And I?
Could 1 live to forget her? To carry
always in my heart black stone across
that door? To rise and rise, and do great
work alone?
Never cannot forget her!
Better die with her, even now.
Hank! Is that step on the stair? Not
yet.
Ny money is well bestowed. Antoine is
better artist than 1, and better man,
and the money will widen and tighten q
noble life in his hands.
And little Georgette is provided for.
How long ago, how faint and weak, that
seems! But Georgette loved me, believe,
at least for time, longer than week.
To wait-until o'clock!
To think-I have thought; it is all ar.
ranged!
These pistols that she admired but day be-
fore yesterday, that we practised with to-
gether both loaded full. What shot she
is! I believe she can do everythingl
To wait-to think-to remember.
Let me remember.
knew her a week, wooed her month,
have been married a fortnight.
She always said didn't know her. She
was always on the point of telling me
something and would not let her. She
seemed half repentant, half in jest. pre-.
ferred to trust her. Those clear, brown
eyes, clear and bright, like brook water
with the sun through it'll And she would
smile sol TITS not that must remember.
Am I sure? Surel laugh at myself
What would you call it-you, any man?
A young woman steals from her house
alone every day and comes privately,
cloaked and yelled, to this place, this den
of Bohemians, this building of New York
studiosl Painters? know them; am a
painter myself.
She goes to this room day after day and
tells me nothing.
say to her gently, "What do you do
with your days, my lover"
"Oh, many things" she answers; IT am
studying art to please YOU"
That was ingenious. She knew she
might be watched.
I say, Cannot I teach your" and she
says, II have teacher I used to study
with. I must finish; I want to surprise
you'll" So she would soothe me to appear
ance.
But watch and follow, take this little
room. wait and see.
Lessons? Oh, perjured ones! There is
no tenant of that room but yourself, and
to it he comes each day.
Is that step? Not yet. I watch and
wait. This is America, say, not France.
This is my wife. Twill trust her. But the
man comes every day. He is young. He is
handsome-handsome as fend.
cannot bear it. 1 go to the door.
knock. There is no response. try the
door. 1t is locked. l stoop and look
through the keyhole. What do see? All,
God! The hat and cloak of the man upon
a chair, and then only tall screen. Be-
hind that screen, low voices!
did not go home last night. am here
today-with these!
That is step. Yes! Softly, now. He
has gone in. heard her speak. She said:
"You are late, Guillaume!"
Let me give them little time.
Now-softly-I come, friends. am not
latel
Across the narrow passage steal noise
lessly. The door is unlocked this time. /
burst in.
There stands my young wife, PALE trem-
bling, startled, unable to speak.
There is the handsome Guillaume be-
hind the screen. My fingers press the trig-
gers. There is a sharp double report.
Guillaume tumbles over, bowling, and
Marie filings herself between us.
Edward! One moment! Give me mo-
ment for my life! The pistols are harmless,
dear-blank cartridges. l fixed them my
self. I saw you suspected. But you've
spoiled my surprise; shall have to tell
you now. This is my studio, love. Here
is the picture you have the sketch of.
am M. Duchesne'-Mary Duchesne Green
leaf Carpenter-and this is my model"
We are very happy in Paris with our
double studio. We sometimes share our
models. We laugh at M. Daudet.- Char
;otte Perkins Stetson in Kate Fields
" ashington.
Dangerous Navigation.
To the average New Yorker there is no
place about the metropolis that inspires as
much awe as does the mad rush of water
between Astoria and the east shore of this
city. Thousands of excursionists pass
through the narrow channel daily, and
other thousands are carried through before
sunrise and before sunset by the great