The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1891-04-30

v u
came tadly out of that business?"
His hand seemed to relax its pressure
on my arm, as if he was preparing him
| self for some censure or act of coldness
on my part.
felt touched by this little proof OF
his sensitiveness to my good opinion,
and pressed his fingers as I reioined,
warmly: II never, never heard any one
speak otherwise than highly of his con.
duct in the matter"
He stopped and said. shortly:
''Why, who knows any thing aboua
it? l thought you and l had it all to
ourselves"
"Yes, yes;" l faltered, and added,
you know you have been away for
some time, old fellow
1t did not seem to fit in very well:
but he accepted it as an argument, and
said:
There is something in that, but
don't let people talk about it. l know
he relies upon you and me-.
There was something so touching in
the reliance of this unknown, that a
glow of sympathetic affection warmed
my heart, and / resolved on the spot
that his confidence should not be mis-
! placed. Come what might, the secret
of that old mans life should never be
betrayed by me. Others might make
it q subject of club gossip or tea-table
tittle-tattle, but no word of mine
should add one drop to the cup of bit
terness that had been placed at his
lips. There are passages in the lives
/ of all of us which we would wish to
have buried in oblivion-the tbought-
less follies of youth, the unworthy am
bitions of manhood, and the selfish
jealousies of old age; who is there that
can stand up and say there is no cpl
sode in his life he would not have ex-
plunged, forgotten or condoned?
We had turned into restaurant for
bit of dinner, and those thoughts
passed through my mind as we ate our
fish. My companion pondered sadly
for few seconds, and then, shaking
| himself together as though to throw off
an unpleasant train of thought said;
Now, tell me about yourself, your
wife and family"
Before I had time to reflect upon
what might be the result of my dis
closure, l blurted out the simple truth:
Il have no wife"
He looked intensely surprised, as he
said: my dear fellow, am very sorry.
I never heard He paused. inquir-
ingly, and again I blurted out:
| II never had one.''
A look of extreme pain spread ovel
his face as he heard this. He leaned
across the table, and laying his hand on
mine, said with infinite sympathy: Il
see it all; ought not to have asked you.
Forgive me, old fellow. and forget that
have said these words
gave him a clammy hand and turned
away, lest he should detect the con-
scious guiltiness of my face, had be-
come confirmed in a suspicion that had
been gradually dawning upon my mind,
that had never set eyes upon my host
before that day, and that l had been
carried away by some inexphcable
| chance resemblance to some remote ac-
! quaintance, and by his own apparent
cordial recognition of myself. There
was no blinking the facts, however.
Everybody that he mentioned was a
total stranger to me, while every incl
dent that / mentioned with a view to
drawing him out seemed 10 find his
mind blank. My sole object now was
to extricateq myself from my false posi-
ton without detection. l got absolute
| ly and hopelessly involved in fable and
falsehood, and after having thus lightly
taken away the good name of the sup
posititious mother of my children, a
sort of despair took possession of me,
and wild desire to avoid exposure or
| explanation at any cost.
The dinner was good, the wine excel
lent, and my host geniality itself We
sat late and drank freely, and over our
cups l blush to think of the people /
married, the old friends I buried and
the characters l took away. But he
would have news, and what was to
do? Much of my information seemed
to afford him matter for astonishment
and often he calculated:
''You don't tell me so,'' as l conveyed
some specially startling piece of person
al news.
However, the time for departure came
at last, and my mind was torn with con-
fiicting desires to escape detection and
to ascertain his identity.
You'll come and see us, he said cor
daily, as we shook hands preliminary
to leaving.
eyes, certainly" l replied; ''but
where are you putting up now?"
''Oh, the same old quarters, he re-
turned.
What is the best way to get there?"
I asked, as last and altogether desper-
ate hope.
''You can't do better than take a cab,
he said; and we parted never to meet
Against. James Gazette.
y53 Living and Show.
Foreign Visitor--Does it cost much to
live in New York?
Host-No, sir, it doesn't cost much to
live in this city; but it costs like Sam
Hill to keep up ppearances.-N. Y