The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1890-04-23

people near him. One of them, man,
was speaking in a disagreeable queru-
lous voice.
..rm sure it's not my fault if l get
nothing to do. l am always trying to
find something"
"Yes; in other peoples pockets, an
swered woman's voice. "4ou want
the wage not the work
Good heavens! that is Millicents
voice exactly thought Stephen; ''what
an extraordinary resemblancen'
"What becomes of money in your
hand I can't conceive she went on.
'It is Millicent's voice! What in
Gods 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 sent you last?"
Done with it? Spent it, of course.
A family can not live on nothing. 1t
was not much for you to give-you,
who live in luxury; you, whose hus-
band is rich; you"
my husband is very far from rich,
and if he were so it would benefit you
in no way. Every farthing I have
given you for your wife was my own,
made by own work. I, a woman,
worked to help woman, as l would
man, but not such as you"
"Whatever you may have given you
owed to my wife.
81 owed her?"
''Yes; for taking from her what was
hers by right"
s.Shall let this brute go on speak
bo,.p,' cold
holding the edge of the seat tightly in
each hand.
'And now that she is i'll and in
want you in your prosperity grudge a
little help to her and her hungry child
ren."
81 have lowered myself by listening
to you thus far" said Millicent, ''in
order to see if you would not in time
say what I 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. /
feel that you can not have lived your
life 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, |, contrary to my inclination,
opened your appeal. It contained
manly reference to your wife, and my
husbands regard for her in past years,
and cringing demand for money for
her and your children, if not for you,
and it ended with suggestion 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.
s.You lie when you say that / took
from your wife what was hers by right.
My husband loved her with all his
heart and soul, and she made him
suffer bitterly. But he had loved her
I say, and for his sake / consented Gf
the miserable story should ever reach
his ears to give him no further pain) to
help the woman who had repaid his
love with betrayal, his confidence with
treachery, but who had been dear to
him before he gave to me what l took
from no one else. You lie again when
you speak of her present suffering and
the wants of her children-silencem as
the man attempted to speak. 'tDo you
think that in dealing with one like you
l should take no steps to verify your
statements? Of the two children that
lived with you and that you called hers,
one only was your w1fe's, and has been
| dead six months, you cur! And your
wretched wife flung from her my hus-
bands 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 l had proof of all l 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 molest me or my husband in
any way, have means to make that
your last public performance for con-
siderable time"
AS she said the last words, Millicent
rose, walking straight up to and get
ting into the train that had just run in
to the station. The man she had been
speaking sat still while she moved away,
but as she opened the carriage door, he
started up with an oath, as if to follow
her. Stephen Mostyn's umbrella be-
coming unfortunately mingled with the
swearer's legs, he was precipitated
painfully 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, I
must say. Have you been out ever
since l saw you last?"
''Very nearly
"And walking, OF in the under
ground. or on the top of a 'bus?"
"a little of all three, and the club to
finish with''
well, and have you found your
plot?n
Yes, but can't write it now, so am
not much better off than before"
Good gracious! why?"
Because said Stephen, bending
and kissing her eyes, 1.-The story is SO
pretty that have no words in which to
tell it; no character that have hitherto
conceived is good enough to play part
in it; no incident that | have known or
imagined but seems poor and tedious
beside it"
Then it is very good?"
''Perfect!'
''And is it real or idealPn
'.Both."
won't you tell it to me?"
''Some day. ."-London World.