The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1892-11-23
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| wife's mysterious disappearance, when the
bell rang violently.
| He rushed ont and met his wife nm the
stairs. She had somewhat recovered her
| calmpess, and as be interrogated her with
sc earching glance, made CHASTITY effort
| to smile.
Il was slightly ill and went out a lit
tie. " she said. II walked too far and am
| somewhat tired"
Notwithstanding the improbability of
the explanation, he did not hesitate. He
[ murmured few soft words of reporch
and placed her in the hands of her maid,
who removed her wet garments.
| During that time he called the officer,
| aho remained in the vestibule, and close
| y interrogated him.
| On learning where he had found Flora,
| eugene knew at once and fully the whole
| ruth.
He vent directly to his wife. She had
| :etired and was trembling in every limb.
One of her hands was resting outside
| The coverlet.
He rushed to take it. but she withdrew
| It gently, but with sad and resolute dig
atty.
The simple gesture told him they were
separated forever.
| By tacit arrangement proposed by her,
md as tacitly accepted by him, Flora be-
| came virtually widow.
| He remained for some seconds immova-
bic, his expression lost in the shadow of
, curtain; then slowly left the chamber.
The idea of lying to defend himasn never
| occurred to him.
| His line of conduct was already ar
.anged-calmly, methodicaily. But two
blue circles had already sunk around his
| syes, and his face wore q wa1en pallor.
His hands, joined behind his back,
we're clenched together; and the ring he
wore sparkled with their tremulous move
ment.
After half an hour he stood in the door
Of her chamber.
| "Flo!" he said.
She turned her eyes cleaning with
fever upon him.
Flo, I am ignorant of what you know,
md sh II not ask you,' he continued,
ss he stepped into the room and ap-
preached her bed. II have been very
;riminal toward you, but perhaps less SO
than you think.
Terrible circum stances bound me with
ron bands. Fate ruled me! But / seek no
oalliation. Judge Of me a. severely as
iou wish; but I beg of you calm yourself
| preserve yourself! .
tYou spoke to me this morning Of your
,resentiments ts- of your maternal hopes.
Attach yourself to those thoughts, and
rou will always be mistress Of your life.
As for myself, shall be whatever you
! will me-a stranger or friend. But now
| feel that my presence makes you i'll. I
will leave you for time, but not alone.
Would you wish Mrs. Morgan to come to
Tou?"
aYes," she murmured, family.
Il shall 60 for her; but it is not neces-
sary to tell you there are condolences one
must reserve from ones dearest friends. Z"
Except q motherf" She murmured the
question with supplicsting agony, very
painful to see.
He grew still 'paler. After an instant:
Except mother!" he said. BE it so!'
She turned her face and buried it in tbs
pillow.
Your mother returns Tomorrow, does
she not?"
She made an affirmative motion of her
head.
4You can make your arrangements with
her. I shall accept everything"
Thank you," she replied, feebly.
he l61C tu0 lUOu duu WSuG W nuu uifos
Morgan, whom he awakened, and briefly
severe nervous attack. the effect of q chill.
The smiable lady ran hastily to Flora
and spent the night with her.
But she was not the dupe OF the ex-
planation Eugene had given her. Women
quickly understand each other In their
grief.
Nevertheless she asked no condolences
and received none; but her tenderness to
the stricken one redoubled.
During the silence Of that dreadful
night the only service she could render
her was to make her weep.
Nor did those laggard hours pass less
bitterly for Eugene Cleveland.
He tried to take no rest, but walked up
and down his apartments until daylight
in q sort Of frenzy. The distress Of this
Door child wounded him to the heart.
The memories Of the past rose before
him, and passed onward in sad process
sion. Then the morrow would show him
the crushed daughter with her mother
her loving mother. Mortally stricken in
all her bes. illusions, in all her dearest
hopes, in all connection with the huppi-
ness OF life!
He found he had yet in his heart lively
feelings Of pity; yet some remorse in his
conscience.
Strange to say, this weakness irritatsd
him, and he denounced it to himself.
Who had betrayed him2 :
This question aRitsted him to an equal
degree, out from the first instant he had
not been deceived in this matter.
The su den grief and half-crazed con-
viction of his wife, her despairing atti-
tude, and her silence, could only be ex-
planned by strong assurance and certain
revelation.
After having turned the matter over
and over in his mind, he arrived at the
conclusion that nothing could have
thrown such clear light into his life save
Ciara's letters. D..
He never wrote to Mrs. Elliston, but
could not prevent her writing to him, for
to her, as to all women, love without let
ters was incomplete.
But the fault Of Eugene, ine1cusable in
q man his tact, was to have preser, ed
these letters. No one, however, is perfect,
and he was an artist.
he delighted in these chef d'oeuvres of
p ssionate eloquence, was proud Of inspir-
ing them, aad he could not make up his
mind TO burn or destroy them.
He examined at once the secret drawer
where he had concealed them, and by
certain signs discovered the lock had
been tmpered with. Nevertheless, there
was no letter missing; the arrangement
Of them alone had been disturbed!
HIS suspicious at once reverted to
Slyme. whose scruples he suspected were
but slight, and in the morning they were
confirmed beyond doubt by letter from
the secretary to his employer.
| In tact SLIME afiar nasainp on hia