The Delta independent., 1891-03-10
ALICE's REVENGE.

| Alice Sulll SaU Ill unc SlUulnS-fOOm,
listening with feverish eagerness for
every sound. Suddenly she sprang up
and went to the door.
"Horace!"
A tall, handsome man, with dark
eyes and wavy black hair, dropping
over q forehead smooth and white as
moulded wax, bent carelessly to
receive the kiss that futtered on her
lips.
"There, Alice, there-that will do.
You tire me to DEATH"
"Do I, Horace? You did not say so
once!'
~ am sick and weary OF these
absurd demonstrations. Do, pray,
use a littl9 common sense"
Alice stood silent moment, repress-
ing the tears that were brimming over
her eyelids.
"You have been hunting all day,
dear" she said trying to assume a
! sprightly air; SO you haven't heard
| the news?"
"News-no. What news is there?"
"The Rev. Mr.. Wayne is dead"
Dead! is he? Are you certain,
Alice"
miriam told me so. On! Horace,
they are all broken-hearted there"
"Who cares for their broken hearts!"
exclaimed Horace Calthrope. in q
tone OF savage exultation. $50 the
| old priest is dead! dead at lastn'
"What do you mean, Horace?"
"Mean? Nothing. Don't poster me
with your everlasting questions,
| Alice. l am not in the most indul-
gent or amiable of moods tonight,
young lady, as you may chance to
find out, if you're not pretty careful"
"I'm very sorry you don't feel kind
ly towards me tonight, Horace"
said Alice, with a quivering lip, "fo-
| for-l've a great favor to ask OF you.
Horace-dear Horace-why will you
not publicly acknowledge our mar
riage? Ii you knew the false position in
which it puts me, the misery endure;
| the
"Silence" Horace Calthorpe rose,
| with passionate fury. 81 have told
you, often enough, how sick am of
these pretty hysterical airs and graces;
and now l want you distinctly to
| understand that shall tolerate them
no longer. will acknowledge you as
| my wife when and where please; and
if l choose never to acknowledge you,
| should like to know how you are
going to help YOURSELF"
He took up the faring light, and
went upstairs to the room he occu-
pied, as lodger for the shooting sea.
| son, leaving Alice still picture OF
white, motionless despair.
"He cannot mean it! oh, no, he never,
never can mean itl" broke in incoher-
ent syllables from her cold lips, as she
clasped her hands tightly together, in
| the awful silence of the lonely-room.
Meanwhile, Horace Calthrope, in his
own apartment, was quietly packing
up some indispensable articles in n
small valise, the lamplight streaming
redly on a face that bore somewhat
OF demoniac exultation on its fault
lessly handsome features.
'I'his is good luck" he muttered to
himself, hurriedly turning over n bun
die of papers. "The certificate here
in my own hands-the old parson-
the only witness killed on the railway!
The momentary fancy had like to
have costmedear. Idon't know how l
ever became soinfatuated with her doll
| face and red lips; but it's all over now
| l can go back to London and win my
way once more into Virginia's good
graces. The fact is, never was created
to live or love in the country. London
| andan heiress are certainly my natur-
al elements. Heigho! Iwonderif lean
catch the ten o'clock mail train at
Addington. It's long walk, and a
dark dismal sort of night but l
think might manage it.
So soliloquised the adamant-hearted
man of the world.
y
"Gone! 1t cannot be possible; he
never would leave me! Gone! with
out a word or sign!"
"Poor, young, deserted wife. it was
q bitter cup for those ruby lips to
taste; but when the last dregs were
drained. there was something in the
| draught that turned her gentle nature
to gall and wormwood! Alice Wy
| man had been u meek, shrinking,
sensitive child; Alice Calthrope was
an avenaging Nemesis.
"Upon the whole, my dear, think
it's altogether the best thing you
could have done. Grovedale is dull;
there's no denying that and since it's
absolutely necessary for you to earn
a living, London is the place to do it
in"
Honest Mrs. Truman hustled to and
fro, between her shining black-leaded
stove and thelittle round table, where
on she was depositing cups, saucers,
and queer, old-fashioned silver tea
spoons, with raised roses on their
handles. While Alice Calthorpe sat
by the window, wondering vaguely if
she should ever become used to the
ceaseless thunder of omnibus, cart,
and carriage, or if the heavy vaporous
smoke would ever change to blue,
delicious atmosphere, like that which
hung over the fields of Grovedale.
And all the time, close to her beat
ing heart, lay scrap of torn, un-
completed letter, with Virginia Clev-
ington" carelessly penciled again and
again on the marginl
Virginia Clevington! Some unmis-
taxable instinct in her womans heart
told her that this was the rival who
had stolen away her husband-per-
haps unconsciously, but none the less
surely and certainly Virginia Clerias-
ingt on she would find, though she per-
ishcd in the search!