Fairhaven herald. [volume] (Fairhaven, Wash.) 1890-????, 1891-06-30

w. v
pathy and discretion, as well as firmness
and decision. Just after had left Oxford
Twas at his chambers late one winters af-
ternoon, waiting for him to come in, when
there was "A hurried knock at the outer
door | opened it, and a woman "a
shrouded female figure believe, is the
consecrated term-came hnrriedly into the
room.
Mr.. StanmoreY That is my name
said. But she said, apparently taken
aback, you are so very young 4 sup
pose it was my uncle, Mr.. James Stanmore,
you expected to see,' replied. Yes, it
was; it was indeed. wanted to see him
particularly, How soon will he be imp Il
really haven't an idea,' l said. oh she
cried distraetedly, what shall dor Can
l give him any messenger l said, or will
you write letter. No, no; won't write, ,
| she said incoherently. I wanted to see him
bimself-to tell him about it and ask his
advice Oh, what shall dor and she COW
cred her face with her hands"
How thrillingp murmured Mrs. Mere
dith.
II was thrilled" said Mr.. Stanmore,
land, 1 must say, extremely anxious to
know what had happened to her."
! WAS she prettyS" inquired Mrs Mere
dith.
II couldn't see her face in the least"
said Stanmore, "for, besides having thick
veil, she stood with her back to the win
| dow, and the room was growing darker
every moment. For one moment she stood
silent; then, conscious, perhaps, that had
/ no means of Identifying her, she said: 4
| will tell you. | must have some advice,
some sympathy; but mind, am counting
on your silence and discretion need not
| say" said Stanmore again, with twinkle
in his eye, with what fervor / swore to
| obey her commands.
''She then, in a low and hurried voice,
told me her tale, which was certainly a
! piteous one enough. She had left her home
| during her husbands absence-left her
| home and her child, as she thought, for
ever. Then suddenly on the eve of quit
ting England she had realized-partly, at
| any rate-the full horror of the future
stretching before her, and with desperate
! idea of, at all events, becoming the legal
wife of the man with whom she had cast
| in her lot, she made up her mind to turn
! to my uncle, of whose wise and under
standing kindness she had heard, and find
out from him if it were possible to be-
come free from the husband she had left. 4"
"Of course it was not" said Lady Dug
dale, soto voice.
''0f course not" said Stanmore; $50
! much knew even then. / told her so, and
told her that unless her husband chose to
take steps she was powerless to regain her
freedom. She was staggered by the blow
Are you quite sure of thisY she asked
Absolutely CERTAIN / replied. "And then,
in burst of impassioned efoquence,"
Stanmore went on. in which could doubt
less be discerned the germs of that forensic
eloquence afterward so justly famous, 81
put before her-prompted by know not
what passionate regret at seeing her young
life destroyed-the future, the only future
for which she could hope, and impfored
her to go back to her home while there was
yet time Her husband was not to return
till the next day, so that the evil she had
done was not past redemption, so far as his
peace of mind and her fair name were CON
cerned She listened in silence, then burst
into torrent of tears.
"'Thank you she said, as she turned to-
ward the door. In spite of your youth and
fneXperience you have done me a service
tonight which shall never forget. / see
you are prepared to follow your uncle's
footsteps. | have been told that he is
wise, good man. My modesty, which has
always been excessive" said Stanmore,
with smile, was somewhat abashed at
this, and in order to turn it off l said light
ly, oh, yes, I'm going TO be a barrister
too, some day, In fact feel as if | had
begun my career tonight-you are my first
client She held out her hand to me 81
lently, and went away"
"And them" said Mrs. Meredith eagerly.
CHATS ALL" said Stanmore 81 know
/ nothing more"
Nothing more?" said Lady Dugdale.
did you never hear of her againf"
"Never," said Stanmore; never saw her
or heard of her Aud if | had could not
have recognized her features, which
never saw; nor her voice, which was
hoarse and strangled with sobs; nor her
name, which | never heard. So am afraid
that now must make up my mind that
that story Is to be forever unfinished
have told you all am ever likely to know
of it,"
And just in time" said Lady DugdaIe,
as pealiDg ring at the hall bell sounded
through the house.
"There she isp' said Mrs. Meredith.
The butler threw open the drawing room
door and announced Mrs. Clanmorris."
An atmosphere of social influence and
unimpeachable position seemed TO accom-
pany the newcomer into the room. Her
clothes were a certificate in themselves
the handsome long dark cloak of stamped
velvet, trimmed with the most expensive
fur; the suitable middle aged bonnet.
Lady Dugdalc, after welcoming her eff
fusivefy, proceeded to make her known to
the rest of the party. Mrs. Clanmorris
acknowledged Mrs Meredith's bow with
measured graciousness; then, as Lady
Dugdale pronounced Stanmore's name, a
very unexpected thing took place. For the
first time in the memory of the county did
Mrs. Cianmorris' manner alter; that iu
minous atmosphere of serenity that sur
rounded her showed traces of disturbance,
revealing dark spots underneath, like
those of the sun. What had happened2
A sudden wave of memory, of gratitude,
had swept over her. Moved by an irresist-
ible impulse she put out her hand and
murmured some agitated words, which in
the dead silence were distinctly audible to
the amazed listeners:
"Mr. Stanmorei Can it be you? | was
your first clientr'-Boston True Flag