The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1890-06-28
A SLIGHT MISTAKE.

El@N lie rs lUN6 SUuuS uIGuuls EdlOlo
E-lA Mr.. Frank Fairfax, putting finishing
-" touches to Il more than usually elab-
crate evening array, whilst l look on rather
doubtfully.
We have been six months married, and
this is the very first evening Frank has ever
gone anywhere without NE. tell myself
that ! am wTetcnedly selfish, but seil-re-
prOach doesn't alter facts, one OF which is
that Franks manner is so very peculiar that
/ feel morally certain he is hiding some
thing from me, and for the first time in my
life am inclined TO doubt his word, and
fancy that lie has not told Inc quite the
truth when he says that he IS only"
only going to the theater to see the new
play by that new fellow, and if it's any good
he will take me tomorrow evening
Why on earth can't he take me tonight?
and why did he look so pleased when l
feigned indifference. and pretended not to
care about being left alone? 1t is awful to
think of Frank deceving me.
81 shan't be late" he says, looking very
cool, whilst his hands are actually tremb-
ling with excitement, and, my dear little
girl, take care OF yourself Just this once.
Ill come back like wildfre."
"Oh, don't hurry on my account Frank"
"Ill not 20 at all if you speak like that"
But l recover myself, and bid him in a
very cheerful au reyoir, even fasten
flower in his coat, and make small joke
and send him off laughing. Then l drag
my aching heart back to my deserted
parlor, and look blankly round it. Some
how | can't bear 10 see Franks songs open
on the piano when he Is not here to sing
for me, and find my eyes fast filing with
tears.
/ sit down and think Of the days when
we were lovers, of the people who tried to
come between us and make mischief. Some
how / can't help thinking Of some of those
malicious little whispers; though l have
generally found that they say precedes
fol 7 rapaD baiOu told that sttbav
say Frank Fairfax is always running about
with actresses, and nearly lives i'll the
green-room of the Royalty" Frank has
gone to the Royalty tonight, In most
singular state of excitement; all day he
has been very queer, now wildly merry,
now Respondent and never once has
touched palette and brush, by means Of
which our daily bread is earned. 1t is very
strange. Is Frank beginning to tire of me,
and is he developing into one of those
husbands who cant drag his vile every
where? Or was there some truth IN those
bygone reports, and has he gone to see
some one he liked before he knew me?
Don't they say a mans heart always goes
back to his first love?
"A woman who doesn't marry has the
best of it, wOefully tell myself: nobody
IiTes of her, and all the men tlatter them
selves she stayed single for their sake, and
wish they had married her instead of their
wife, who is sometimes cross and tired, and
whose good looks have gone off, while Miss
WhateVer-her-name-iS is always fresh, and
pleasant, aud pretty. Oh, it is a weary
World!"
Then reaction comes, and I scold myself
heartily Tor doubling the best and klndest
husband in the world, and resolve to &C.
eupy every moment until he comes back, so
that | shall have no time to indulge a
morbid train Of thought. l begin by sitting
down at the davenport and writing long
letter to a school friend, and when l have
finished, adjoining my signature with an
extra flourish, open the blotting-book.
Frank has been writing here; who but
man would leave half dozen envelopes,
pen, stamps, and what not stuck between
the pages? As l shake them out rather
iTrItably some torn fragments of paper
futter to the ground, and as l pick them up
/ find one piece ON which a sentence stands
intact, clear and distinct, IN Franks hand
writing:
~ was an idiot to marry her, my dear"
3 There is no mistake; | know his writing
as well as l do my OVID, and the horrible
words strike into my heart like knife. l
sit and stare at them; though he has writ
ten this letter he mas at least had the grace
not to send it, but all the same he has re-
pented his marriage.
l get up, leaving my letter and every
thing else in heap, taking only the frag
ment with me, and kneel down before the
fire, literally incapable of moving or think
over and over again.
Time goes on, and at last hear Franks
ring; then l rise, pushing away my hair
from my face, and 1t seems to me that |
push away my YOUTH feel old and tired
and sad.
Frank comes In, unusually bright and
handsome, his light coat thrown back as if
to display his evening dress beneath; there
is color in his face and sparkle in his dark
eyes.
says, with much animation; but his flow
of words is checked by my appearance, for
he breaks off to exclaim: "What on earth
Is the matter?"
do not reply, because l cannot. All 1
want is to die, so that he will at least pity
me; He comes rapidly across the room
and lifts my face between his two hands.
What is It, my darling2 Don't keep NE
In suspense"
He can act well, but my heart is sick of
the farce, and quietly move away.
81 am not i'll, Frank. l will tell you
everything, and then we shall understand
each other. Ii think you are very cruel.
gave up my home and my parents for you,
and have no one now save you Why did
you marry me if you are so soon tired ?"
He stares little. then breaks into laugh.
Come, Laura, this is rather ridiculous.
just because have gone out alone"
II is not that! passionately interrupt.
90 don't care how often you 60 out, nor
where, and | don't want to know: and per-
haps have no right to ask; but will ask,
and will know, to whom you dare write
describing yourself as AN idiot for marry
ing mev'
Upon my word 1 do not understand YOU"
Perhaps that will enlighten you," re-
turn, giving him the fatal scrap of paper,
which he surveys with puzzled look.
Read 1t; then perhaps you will deny your
own writing"
No." be says, calmly enough, still sur
yeying the paper; Il wrote this, certainly.
Where did you find it?"
1 tell him; and at the end Of my story he
throws off his coat and seats himself, look
ing very gloomy, and uttering not a word
."Can't you speak," l feebly ask.
81 feel this very MUCH" he briefly an
swers. and my lip begins to culver pitifully.
On, we have been SO very happy!
" 1t may be hard for you," return, but
1t is much harder for me, Frank, because
can't help loving you even now, and it
breaks my heart to know-l-haye-spoiled
your life"
break down altogether and hide my
tears In friendly cushion; next instant
Frank s. arms are round me.
Il must have married you on the princi-
pie OF extremes meeting" he says, 81 being
sensible man. and you silly little thingl
Listen, and l will make a full confession.
have no moral courage, Laura-physical
have, but moral none | have been think
ing for some tine that | didn't make half
enough by my paintings and you know how
wish you to be rich-to have all that you
desire. l have dramatic instincts in me, so
Fwrote and got accepted, unknown to you,
q comedy which was produced tonight for
the first time. Actually l dare not tell you,
far less ask you to go, SO afraid was of
seeing the thing Kissed off. There came in
my lack of moral courage. l was nearly in
n fever when the play began, but happily it
is success You shall go tomorrow night
and hear the villain of the piece utter the
sentence you ascribed to me. L was an
idiot my dear TO leave nv unconsidered