Democratic Northwest and Henry County news. [volume] (Napoleon, O. [Ohio]) 1894-1905, 1895-12-26
CHAPTER TX.

1
Hugh could bring any order out of
chaos, call duty and self control to his
salvation and write to his wife as Mrs.
Ventnor had advised.
When the letter was gone, he could
not have told what he had written But
he wished miserably she was back. If
he could hear her voice and footstep,
meet her little practical needs to fill the
days and check the morbid fancies that
tortured him For he had fancies-
dreams wild and passionate = that
burned up all rest.
Late on Tuesday afternoon he passed
the cab carrying Mrs. Ventnor to the
train. She made the driver stop and
beckoned to Hugh.
mo news from the little one YETI"
"No news, Mrs. Ventnor."
"Dear mel You're looking badly,
young man. But don't worry. I think
there's a letter at home for you. saw
the postman go in as got into the cab,
and caught glimpse of the writing.
My best wishes for you both when you
have tenderly assured each other that it
will never happen agais." And she
shook hands with him almost affection
ately.
"The only good man ever found in.
teresting," she said, with a sigh, as she
watched him down the street.
Mrs. Ventnor was right. There was
letter Hugh read it eagerly, and sneer
passed over his face. II was repeti-
tion of wornout reproaches, trium-
plant refusal to return under any condi.
tions.
"She won't come. So that's over
with, he thought. ......
Utterly spent, he flung himself on
his bed and slept for hours. A clock
striking II awakened him. His head
was bursting with pain. The blood
seemed clogged in his temples, and he
felt alternate flashes of heat and cold.
After bathing his face and head with
cold water the pain grew less, but he
felt dazed and miserable. He left the
room without any definite purpose.
Something seemed dead within him.
On the wall, just opposite the bed
room door, one of the daubs that disfg-
ured the panels and ceilings Of the
house famed up before him. twas the
life sized picture Of an impossible god
dess, a scepter in her hand and look
of Jenny--or so he fancied-in her hard
blue eyes.
As he stood staring at. the picture i'll
a spiritless way long, sweet, muffled
note from violin quivered upon the
stiffness.
Hugh looked around as if voice had
called his name. The music grew
stronger, sweeter, the measures rapid.
Marian was playing like one inspired.
1t was the march from "Aida," and
suggested the clashing Of cymbals-an
opulence Of color. He conjured up the
picture Of her, perhaps in the white
gown he loved, playing for the last
time in the other house.
After tonight he would see her, hear
her no more.
He threw back his head and set his
teeth hard. Oh, to be with her now, if
only for a moment! Could he let her
pass from him forever, with only their
last hurried farewell?
He no longer remembered how late it
was nor the madness of going when
Mrs. Ventnor was away. Conventional
ity and prudence were forgotten. He
must see her.
With this thought upward in his mind
he moved toward the stairs, as if under
the direction of will stronger than his
own, when the march abruptly ceased,
and he found his face bathed with
moisture, his knees trembling He had
not known how deeply the music had
moved him. No, he dared not 90. 1t
was wrong, all wrong.
The letter Jenny had written him lay
at his feet. In an absorbed, gloomy
fashion he picked it up and slowly tore
it into little pieces, strewing them on
the floor.
"What's to be done? What's to be
done?" he thought, with the apathy that
comes when all hope is dead.
Then full realization of everything
painful and inharmonious in his life
rushed over him, but most of all the