Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1895-06-30

his sensitive ear the sounds Of high
Irish voice in the hall without, followed
bv a low. coaxing word or two from a
woman evidently of most gentle birth
and raiSisg.
can sure" came the first womans
strident tones. AN if We be after think
in I'm a-goin' ter leave the wash an va
not give me the money-why, sure, an
yer fooltd.
But I promise faithfully that you
shall have it in the morning. l eX-
pected it to-day, but it hasn't come.
haven't bit of fresh linen-not even a
handkerchief"
AN We won't be after havin' any till
I see the money was the triumphant
retort. as the laundress' heavy feet be-
gan TO shuttle down the interpreted
stairs. The pretty, low voice began
anew its pleading, then the words were
choked in q big sob and he could stand
il no longer. Flinging open his door, he
strobe down to the fleeing irish woman,
caught the little basket from her ana
tossed a coin at her feet. Then, grave
" shouldering the disputed property, he
reascended the stairs, and, with a low
bow. deposited it before it's riShtiul
owner.
q beg pardon, madam" he began, "a
he glanced at the tiny, black-robed wo-
man before him; but l couldn't help
hearing when the walls are so thin, and
it is a great pleasure for me to do this
little for you. You may pay me when
you can conveniently" he added, as he
feared by her frightened face tn&t ne
had been too bold
Allan didn't know much about Wo-
men, but he felt pretty certain that
such a dainty one as the one before
him could really find life uncomfortable
without her usual share OF pretty feme-
nine. and no doubt his eyes showed his
sympathy. for his companion went on
with an eager child like innocence
Il have Just come on from Philadel-
phia. and | haven't cent till l can
hear from-frOm some one to whom !
wrote Yesterday. I'm here all alone l
don't know a soul in New York, and
and I've been so lonesome ever since
dear Charlie died. That was over a
wear ago. but / don't seem to get any
happier, you see.
J
at the thought Of poor defenceless
Charlie and was he2rtless enough to
exult secretly that the timid little crea-
ture before him was so thoroughly alone
and friendless that his aid might be
valued. A sudden resolve surged III
his bosom.
please come down to the parlor,
Mrs '
"Mrs. Ewing" confessed the tiny
widow.
Il have something to say TO you
Two hours later two cabs drew up
before Mr.. JameisOn's home, and from
the first stepped the handsome yet ner-
vous Mr.. Allan Payne. He tenderiy
helped from the other tiny little Wo-
man. whose pale face was hid behind u
widows veil, and the excited lawyer
stared in ama3ement at the TWO callers
ushered into his library.
I'VE have come Mr.. Jameson be-
gan Allan. TO talk this over with you,
and to get you to satisfy Mrs. Ewing
that ] am, although a poor fellow IN
most things not so extraordinarily bad
rs 10 bar me from becoming her hus-
band. She has entirely satisfied me as
TO her past: she was raised in q convent
until she was Is, and then came out,
only to be misused by a stepfather.
She further incurred her peoples
wrath by marrying a poor man, and
when he died, last summer, she was too
proud to ask them for help. She has
been trying to live on what little he
left her, but she had to send home for
money yesterday She has proofs
enough to satisfy any lawyer. What l
want to do is to satisfy her about me-
At noon next day Ruth Ewing be-
came the wife of Allan Payne-dear,
demure little Ruth, in her black gown
put on at her first husbands death Civ
iugherselfup TO another. At the church
door Payne led her to her carriage and
said. while a queer line began to creep
about his lips
AS we arranged before Mr.. Jameson
last night we need never live together
as man and wife. You have done me
the greatest favor Of my life and | shall
be endlessly grateful to you. All ask
is two things:-First, If you ever grow
weary of this you must let ME know
and YOU shall be" here was q sus-
picious break in his voice before he
cOuld finish with the word Tree.
Secondly. you need never think OF me
as your husband unless you wish TO-
Know me then. as q loyal friend and il
Won are in trouble or lonely there a !
second falter). or sick you will send |
for me. shall not bother you with my
comings and goings unless YOU wish 1t |
YOU may address me through Mr..
JAMESON, and 1 can find you the same
way. Is there anything else?'
NO. thank YOU came from the |
sweet sad mouth, which had all at once |
auivered strangely. Il shall be of to /
some quiet place to rest and-to think.
Good by
And thus they parted with a mere !
clasp Of the hand, without even a |
promise of meeting again, or even hear |
ing directly from each other While |
Mr.. Jameson. after a sharp look ct the |
white face in the rapidly departing car
riage and a second glance at the hum |
CRY hopelessnes in Payne's yearning
ewes. smiled in a superior way till litA !
tie mist gathered on his glasses and |
fervent prayer arose 70 his lips.
Six weeks later Payne came into Mr.. |
Jameison's office, haggard, aimless and |
weary. 1t was the iirst time he had !
dared face his lawyer since his wedding |
and now he asked in an aimless, hope |
less way
she is well?'
she? Who?" asked the innocent |
Mr.. Jameson.
Poor Payne was too miserable to no |
tice and replied as he turned his tired !
My wife-Alrs Payne.
Nj. Jameison's smile broadened as he |