Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1890-01-04
And of course made the worst of it2"

chemists assistant ought at this moment to be
my brother ~in-le~i"
MY dear Hatrell, q mans relations with
women are just the one part of his life which
no other man has the right to question and In
which counsel and opinion are worse than use
less.''
'That's no answer" exclaimed Hatrell, inn
patiently. why don't you say at once that
ought TO have married a milliners apprentice
and had that man for my brother-in-law?'
HE would not have been a very agreeable
connection, admit, in practice, although in
theory oil men are equal There are plenty of
men OF as low grade socially whom l would
accept as my friend and equal tomorrow-but
not Claude Morel. The fellow bears the brand
OF Cain upon his forehead. 1t was men of his
stamp who made the commune what it was
He was one of their speakers, the intellectual
element, the force that set other mems brains
on hre. was sorry to zee great hUlking,
honest fellows under his influence. l could
read the history of last years RIO. and murder
III That little room, in soho. A very dangerous
man, your Claude Morel."
yet Won think he ought to have been my
brother-in-law." said Hatrel. siashing at the
fowery bank with his stick, harplng irritably
on the same question.
No. no. no. Since you were not so far en-
tangled with the sister as to"
But | was cntanged. l loved her, man.
Yes. was over head and ears in love with that
mlliners apprentice, and had more than half
mind to fling prudence to the winds aud
! !ng. and altogether innocent. Yes, a grsette
| in Paris. and innocent. God knows how long
that would last. She had left her native village
! less tLaI year before L met her; had Travelled
to Paris to find her brother. who had appren-
| tlced her to mlliiner in the Rue Ncuve des
| Petlts Champs. We met by purest accident in
| "a street crowd; she hustled and frightened in
the mob. happened to protect her. l walked
nome with her, ever so far-beyond the Bas-
| tIile-and SO began an acquaintance which
nn1eH -GnH hnty--if hat
young man had not tried to force the running.
| have to thank his Violence not my prudence,
| Tor my escape. and for my sweet English wife.
| shudler to think of the difference such a
| marriage rs that must have made i'll my life"
THAT depends upon the strength of your
love, said Arden. Il can imagine man low
| ing so deeply and truly as never to regret hav-
| ing married beneath him.
No, Arden; repentance must come. 1t is
the aftertaste OF passion and a gentleman's
love for peasant girl can be only passion at
best"
That depends upon the gentleman"
An you are III your provoking mood to-
night. see. Did this fellow tell you what has
become OF his sister-whether she Is dead or
| living?'
NO he went into no particulars, nor did
| encourge him by asking questions. He talked
| or broken PROMISES broken hearts, a blighted
| life, pride and cruelty-talked as you may sup
| pose communist. nurtured upon lie Pere
|
| who had In his idea, compromised and disap-
| pointed his sister. Mere rhodomantade, like
his speeches. l cut him as short as possibly
could. only considered it my duty to let you
| know that the man is in London. and that he
| threatens to hunt you out and revenge his sis
ters wrongs-her supposed wrongs, We will
| say-in some way or other"
That means lying in wait for me at the cor
ner OF a London street to shoot me or throw
vitriol in my face, suppose" said Hatrell
| n mn al foCa ,,,xy OH ana
of the bullet or the vitriol."
| ut may be only an empty threat, but own
| l don't like the mans physiognomy his
| history, and L recommend you to be on your
| guard. ltmight be wise to try to get him out OF
the country. dare say he would emgrate to
one of the colonies If emigration were made
| profitable to him.
"Arden, do you think am such a poltroon
as to buy my life from foreign bully? He
| threatened me In Paris, and turned him out
OF my room neck and crop. He wanted to
| brighten me into marriage with his sister by
pretending to believe that 1 was her seducer.
| But that was not the worst. When l told him
| that marriage was impossible he insinuated
! that there might be other arrangements A
| rich young Englishman in love with girl of
inferior station might make such settlement
| as would insure the comfort and Responsibility
| OF her future life without the legal tie. In a
| word, the man was, and Is, a scoundrel. He
| knew that was rich and he wanted to make
| out OIL DOH you know That chan
| tage is a profession in Paris; a profession to
| which profigates and idlers look as the one
| easy way to competence? And he found that
was not singing bird. Whatever debt owed
| to my little Toinette, it was one that he could
| not force me to pay. And do you suppose that
now, fourteen years after, would reward his
| buster with the commission of so much as a
| sixpence? If you do think 30 poorly of me-
Arden, you must be a very bad judge of human
nature"
Perhaps am wrong, but have your wife
| to think of we'll as you. What if this man
were to come here and tell his story
TO my wife? Let him. She will believe no
| mans word against mine. Indeed 1 have
| talked to her about Antonette, or at least
have told her half in sport and half in earnest.
l am not afraid to tell her the truth, that in
my salad days, two years before l saw her fair
| young face, was very hard hit by that same
| grisette and trifed with her longer than
| ought, and had even half mind to marry
| her, and only pulled myself I'D sharp when
| her brute of a brother interfered. l need not
| tell her that sent the girl hundred pounds
| IN my farewell letter and wished her q good
husband in her own rank Of life who would re-
| spect her all the more for that dot and for the
knowledge that could sign myself in all sin
cerity and honor her respectful friend All,
| Ambrose Arden, you who have given your heart
| to books can never imagine how this foolish
heart Of mine ached as 1 wrote that letter."
| II own that nave lived more among books
| than among human beings, yet can Just co n
| ceive the possibility of an over-mastering Low G
| bearing down all BARRIERS weighing caste and
| circumstance as feathers in the scale against
passion. But what cannot conceive is that
such intense feeling can be transient, that such
Move can ever give place to another"
| "Ah, but you see l do not pretend that my
| fancy for Antoinette was ever grande passion.
| My heart ached at throwing her off, but the
| heartache came much from my sympathy
with her in her disappointment as from my
own sense of loss. l was never really and
tremendously In love till met Clara
She accepted your hundred pounds, / sup
pose?"
II hope so. 1t never came back to me: but
| as | received no acknowledgment from my poor
little friend it is likely enough her brother in
| tercepted my money and her letter, counseiied
her to refuse the gift Indignantly perhaps and
| then put my bank notes in his pocket. be-
lieve Monsieur Morel to be capable of any
thing sneaking and Infamous"
And you never heard Of Antoinette after
that letter?'
Never. 1 left Paris the next day. The city
| seemed dull and dark without the light of
| those southern eyes. 1t in autumn, the
dead season, and went off to Petersburg, and
thence to Odessa to look at my fathers work
| there, and to feel sorry was not so good man
as he. The air has turned chilly. Will you
come in and play rubber"
| "With pleasure"
| They turned and went back to River Lawn.
| They went in by the hall door into that roomy
| low-ceiled hall which had formed the whole
basement of the original cottage, and which