The Sunday herald and weekly national intelligencer., 1890-10-19
LOOKING BACK.

MS nands ana an expression Oh deepest melan-
choly darkens his handsome, careworn face.
In turning over a desk full OF old, yellow
letters he has come upon half-forgotten relic
OF happier days-a little bunch of lilies of the
valley, tied with scrap of white ribbon. The
lilies are lying on the desk before him, and his
eyes grow strangely dim as he looks at them,
while memories of the past come pouring faster
and ever faster into his troubled mind.
How well he remembers the day when the
lilies bloomed fresh and fair and fragrant, en-
bedded in their cool, green leaves; the day when
he plucked them and carried them home for his
wife-his little Doris How pleased she was at
the small attention Even now he smiles as he
recalls her pleasure. The pretty pink color
flushed into her cheeks, and her blue eyes shone
like stars, as she threw her arms round his neck
and kissed him again and again. All What
would he not give to feel those kisses now
She was always impulsive and childishly nat
ural. She never stopped to consider her words
and actions after the manner of older and wiser
people; but, then, she was only nineteen, and
innocent as child of the ways Of the world.
She was nineteen and Geoffrey was thirty-fve;
the difference in age was great but not so great
as the difference in character.
Geoffrey was old for his years and had lived
fast. Already he had seen and done most
things, and the excitement of what is commonly
called "seeing life'' had palled upon him con-
siderably. He was quite ready to settle down
to the uneventful life of a country squire, with
few interests beyond his books-I put them first
advisedly-his wife, aud his estate.
Doris differed from him in every way. For
her life was only just beginning its long vista
stretched golden and cloudless before her inno-
cent eyes Things that to him were tedious
as twice-told tale' had for her all the fresh
ness and charm Of novelty; the hot, impetuous
blood of extreme youth coursed through her
veins and mantled her cheeks; she viewed the
world through rose-colored spectacles.
Yes, they differed widely in every way, and
lookers-on prophesied from the very first that
the marriage would turn out failure. How
much better it would have been if Geoffrey had
listened to some of his well-neaning friends
But he was too sure of himself and his ability to
mould his own fate, and too fond Of his pretty
Doris to notice their timely warnings
He was very fond OF her. no man ever loved
woman more dearly than he loved Doris, and he
honestly tried to make her good husband, ac-
cording to his lights; but, looking back now on
his past, and judging it by the light of later e1-
perience, he can see that his lights were Woe
fully dim. He did not tIeat Doris as an equal
and helpmeet; he denied her that close COM
panionship and perfect confidence that are the
right of every true wife; he looked upon her as
charming toy wherewith to beguile his leisure
hours, pretty child to cheer and amuse him
with her innocent prattle when he could tear
himself away from his beloved books. 1t was
not right to regard wife in such light, as he
has found to his cost.
For time things went smoothly enough
The first six months of their married life were
very happy months for both of them but after
that their relations began to change. 1t would
be difficult to say when and how the change
came in; it stole upon them SO gradually at
first that Godfrey hardly noticed it, but when
their married life was year old it became pain
fully evident to him. Doris saw it, too. She
used to sit and look at her husband with such
wistful expression in her big blue eyes, and
sometimes she would make an effort to resume
her old playful, affectionate manner toward
him, but somehow her efforts always ended in
failure. AT the time he was blind, but he can
see so clearly now that the fault was his in the
first instance. He frightened and repeled her.
She was an only child, and all her life had been
accustomed to the utmost care and tenderness;
her father was the soul of kindness, and most
indulgent to her, while Godfrey was grave and
cold and at times even stern in manner. Fur
standard by which he judged woman was a very
high one-almost impossibly so. Certainly, his
ideal woman seldom, If ever, existed out of a
poets Imagination. Doris tried her hardest to
satisfy him and fulfill his expectations, but she
was cast in too slight mould, her strength was
not equal to the demands upon it; she failed
aud was bitterly conscious of her failure.
Geoffrey can see it all now clearly enough, but
he could not see it then.
Well, as | have said before, their relations
underwent change, and GOODNESS sprang up
between them-slight, it is true, but impossible
as a mighty barrier
Things went from bad to worse, and the
Danes were in very uncomfortable position,
when Doris's cousin, Archie St. John who was
then home from India on sick leave, came to
stay with them. He was good-loobing young
fellow, little inclined to swagger and put on
"side," but manly, good-hearted, and generous
to fault. Godfrey took fancy to him, and
they got on Very'well together, until he awoke
TO the fact that Archie was making hot love to
his wife. Godfrey was not inclined to play the
role of jealous husband, and at first the dscoV-
cry only amused him; he stood aside and
watched the little drama with undisturbed
mind, having perfect confidence in Doris and
her devotion to him, but after time he began
to feel anxious and uncomfortable.
He never forgot the night that it dawned
upon him that there was real danger for Doris
in her cousins attentions They were giving