Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1892-10-07
THREE UMBRELLAS

/ l
| gain some benefit from your umbrella" he
remarked as he CHANGED to meet her on the
church steps after service. 81 would ask to
walk home with you. didn't expect rain
! when left home, so I am unprepared."
| However," came her clear reply, just
| arch enough to be fascinating and just
! tender enough to be frank, "if you'll carry
my umbrella and let me turn my energies
to keeping my dress caught up out of the
mud I'll be very thankful to YOU"
They had walked. strangely enough half
way home in almost complete silence, when
man and woman passed them, like
them, under one umbrella; but, unlike
them, the woman was held snugly close to
the mans side as she chung to his arm. 1t
was picture of that open freedom which
SO undeniably marks a congenial man and
wife, whose companionship has ripened
into frank trust.
AS they passed Robert COPYRIGHT said,
half thoughtfully perhaps:
''They are sensible. If two are trying to
use one umbrella, they are surely to be
commended if they strive to take up as
little room as possible. Even if it be noon,
won't you take my arm?"
But they are plainly not such-such
strangers as We" she returned, conscious
that both were treading on dangerous
ground.
'Are we strangers?" he asked quickly,
turning his eyes searchingly to her. .
The pretty face grew trife pale against
its light brown hair. A lump seemed to
climb to her throat, but she returned
bravely, "Yes-that is, we'll always be
strangers compared with them"
He stopped for an instant and gazed fix
eddy at her till a hot flush flew up from out
her dark fur collar and swept under the
velvet strings of her dainty brown bonnet,
''Always?" he asked simply
"Yes. Why, can't you see that they are
married."
She tried to laugh it away, but it would
have been difficult to tell which pair OF
lips quivered the more or which pair of
eyes swan in the deepest mist as the two
started on, both silent, both sad, both real
izing that little tragedy had occurred in
that brief instant under that dripping UNI
brella on the noon boulevard.
Eight years went by and found Gabriel
Vaughne alone in the world, with neces-
sity for keeping up life in which all in
terest and all energy were dead. She had
at last arisen from Il tedious illness, and
the nurse herself scarcely recognized the
tall, pale, sad faced woman, with the short,
dark curls, as the bright eyed. light haired
girl Of six months before. Gabriel had one
thing dear to her, and only one, and that
was memory. And some of our dearest
memories are the cruelest part of our lives
When finally she stood before a mirror
and realized that that changed creature
was herself, a mighty resolve filled her
she would go to the source of that memory.
She knew where he was; she knew that
l,nh od rio6 fhy.an Oft
ter morning in the rain, and had married
wealthy wife. That was the reason that
she had thrust him back from her long ago,
just because of his poverty. Not that it
would pain her; thousand times nc!
Hadn't she cried out night after night
since that starvation with him would be
only bliss? But she had known his ambi-
lions and his capabilities, knew his dreams
of success, and she realized his ability to
turn the dreams to realities. She was
poor. Would she permit herself to hang
a milestone about his neck? Would she
hold him always in the depths of poverty
by being his wife and the mother of his
needy children? No, she would hurt his
heart before she would ruin his life.
Time had proved that she had been
right. His wife was beautiful woman,
and her wealth had opened boundless OPP
pOrtunities to him. He had risen-she
had known that he would But now that
she scarcely was able to know herself, she
would venture into his world and see for
herself how happy and proud and prosper
Gus he was.
So having spent all but her last bill for
her ticket, she stepped into Philadelphia
one spring evening, steeling her heart to
what might follow. The next evening she
had walked past his great, rich house and
was starting back when a sudden shower
burst unexpectedly upon her.
She gathered up her skirts in that par
ticular way so characteristic of dainty
woman, and was hurrying along when all
at once she was conscious of sharp, bhild-
ish cry at her side. Turning, she beheld
tall, sad faced man trying to quiet
fretful baby of about three years, which
held out it's dimpled hands to her and
cried:
Mamma! Mammal"
The gentleman strove to stop it, and Ga
briel started on. But sharp and piercing
came the "Mammap' and her heart babe
her inger.
For the first time the man spoke to her.
Unjust beg your pardon, madam. His
mother has just died, and something about
you seems to have recalled her to him.
Gabriel's heart softened at once Going
straight up she took the tiny, outstretched |
hands in her own and murmured, ''Poor
motherless little one."
The father held out his umbrella over
her, and for the first time she looked at |
him--the face was Robert's She was glad |
for the excuse of turning to baby again
and murmuring something unintelligible.
However, he had not recognized her, SO
she drew all her strength to her assistance
and succeeded in hiding her emotion.
eff you will walk under my umbrella, as
/ am going your way for this square, you
can keep dry. And, too, fear baby won't
like to part with you now"
There was no easy way to retreat; it
would have been absurd to scud off in a
changed direction through the pelting
rain, so she continued talking hurriedly
to the child. AS they reached the foot Of
the broad stone steps she stopped II can
not thank you enough for having Gained
Leslie.
His nurse left this morning, and he
will not be consoled by any of the other
servants. So finally told Mrs. Clarke.