The Press., 1895-01-31

They all murmured something, the group broke up, and took Paul by the arm and walked with him to his cham bers. He threw his papers upon the table and sank into chair
 Tt is all over," he groaned My career is finished.'' ;
 Paul, this is absurd. y
 Mo-" he said. 1T have already made up my mind what will happen. These men are my private friends, they are part of our social circle, for Isabel, poor child, had no friends of her own. They are good fellows, and at first they will say that it doesn't make any difference and think it too. But then, you see, there are the women. They will resent the thing and show their resentment too. Isabel must be spared this at any cost. Go away now, my dear fellow, and leave me to think. :"
 ''For heavens sake, Paul, ,'' said "do nothing rash, Think of your pro- fession first. ''
 "No,' he replied. Isabel must be first thought of.
 I fingered awhile unwilling to leave him.
 'Now you know all, '' he said ''It is something like cloud, ism it?''
 "Is it possible that the courtly and polished"--
 "Quite possible. Sometimes tried to think what he would look like ill prison dress, but I never could. There was an other side to him, though. I saw it on the day when asked him for his daugh 1, of my past?' assured him that he need not open a painful chapter, because I knew everything. And then-then he broke down, burst into fit of weeping like any woman and thanked God sol emnly that I had come to take his daughter away from him. For myself, he said, I Suppose am sorr That ters nothing. But for my children $ sake, and especially for my daughter's1 sake, am-sometimes 1 am mad I think that when he was left alone after our marriage he was really mad, and I am nearly sure that he killed himself However, that is done with. Isabel mast not know what has happened And she must not be made to suspect that our friends, her new friends, know her SC cret Women are not always considerate. toward each other. I must think-I must think what is best to do"
 Next morning was not surprised to receive note from Isabel. She said that her husband was suddenly prostrated with some kind of a nervous breakdown, though he looked very we'll, and that the doctor ordered him to give up all work, break off all engagements and go away for three months at least. They were going the same day.
 The three months became six, and the six became year. They were travelling about in unfrequented places. where Paul's health would not suffer from noise and talk of travellers. They staid only in towns where there were no Eng fish residents, and so on. Then Paul wrote to me that he had given up his chambers and bought cottage i'll the country, where he proposed to stay, his health, he said, being too wretched to think of his practicing any more.
 made many visits to the cottage. It was three or four miles from any viii lage or house. It was on the seaside, and they had boat. They had no chil- dren, and the only people who eyer, wis ited them were the family of the nearest clergyman, who came often to them. Isabel was their friend, unpaid govern ess, adviser, everything. A
 Remark here very stranger1 This man, my friend Paul, to
 the outset life without success have seemed intolerable, who gaV 6p the most promising prospects solel on his wife's account who was endowed with every quality which suocesA re- quires. was perfectly happy in thi4 obs scure retreat. He wanted no other Kind of life. To sail in his boat, to wander on the sands, to mediate in his garden, always with Isabel beside him, was enough for him. His love for Isabel was absorbing and sufficient for both.
 They lived in this way for i've and twenty years. Then the greatest pa ahle misfortune fell upon Paul, fQ caught fever and died. Then
 gan to break up. He was only just@bast 50 and should have been in the vigorous enjoyment of his manhood, but he be- gan to fail. In the last months c9 his life staid great deal with him, and he talked freely about his old ambitions and their sudden end.
 II am sure" he said. "that l did right in giving all up. Sooner. or later Isabel would have found out-would have been made to feel somehow-that other people knew the truth. In such case the only safety lies in flight ''
 But if you had staid your own career was certain. ;
 Perhaps - with the explanation whenever my name was mentioned, You know, suppose, that he married Sir Robert Byrne's daughter And she would have heard it. :"
 "Tell me" said, "who were the residents of the village-the people we met at dinner''-
 T do not know. Why do you ask?"
 Evidently Isabel knew nothing of them. Perhaps, after all, the wicked old man lied about them.
 ''I am glad to think" Paul went on, ''that we never met any of them after. ward, because perhaps they knew, Thank God, never, never for a moment after the marriage did Isabel feel that her father sins were visited upon her. |"
 Why, Paul." I said, ''they were, but you shifted the burden to your own