The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1896-10-04


to pinch-he says, to keep out of debt.
But surely the man isn't poor" cried
| Tremaine, with a sudden revolution CT feel-
ing. 81 was told he was well off,
That was what people told me. They
| said he was rich, and that if I married
him L should have everything I wanted.
| And yet he went on awfully because had
| spent few pounds more than he liked
"Sordid wretch Great heaven, how ]
| have been mistaken in the man. You
| must leave him, dearest; leave him for
| one whose utmost fortune would be too
small to spend upon a week of your life
| if it were needed for your happiness. You
| must not stop to be the victim of his ava
rice and ill-temper. Old, ugly, and a
miser! We will start for London by the
! first train-a slow train that leaves Win
| dcrmere at 1880. You were to leave with
him by the express at 11:o0. He will sus-
| pect nothing. We shall be far away be-
| fore he misses you"
Run away from my husband! Oh, MT.
| Tremaine, how can you suppose should
= do such a thing? No, no! He Is old-and
=, mean-and ugly-but l have married him,
and I must step with him till he dies,
however wretched he may make me.
| Hush, what was that?"
They had both heard tia sound like a
| groan. 1t came from the shrubbery. and
there was a rustling of foliage in the
| darkness.
/
| There were half a dozen dogs of vaTi-
Gus breeds and si1es about the pace-but
that groan had Sounded very human.
| The doll accepted Tremaine's explana-
tion unques taoningly; but he felt uneasy,
| and answered at random to the little ser
mon she preached to him as they walked
| back to the house, upon the wickedness
| of wanting her to leave her husband and
| her own determination never to do any
thing improper She might be miserable.
| That she could bear but she would never
| misconduct herself.
| Tremaine hardly heard her. He went
| hurriedly to the smoking room, and called
/ to his old friend as ne went in.
| Come for a stroll in the moonlight,
| professor" he cried.
His own voice came back upon him
| with a hollow sound-as it seemed to his
| excited fancy. The room was empty. He
! put his finger on the bell, and kept l.
| there till a servant ran in affrightedly.
rs DR. Kirkdale in the drawing room"
| mo, sir
Look in the library, and in his own
room, and be quick about it. l want TO
| see him"
The man came back in three minutes
DIR. Kirkdale must be out, sir. I have
looked in all the rooms"
"He is in the garden, I daresay. That
! will do"
Yes he was in the garden. no doubt.
| ana lndC SOunQ from the tnlcket-tnaI
| groan from an agoniZed human heart was
his. He had heard what his wife said
of him; heard how hateful he was in her
sight.
Poor creature Even though he was
| ever 50 avaricious and sordid ever so IN
worthy OF the jewel he had taken to him
| self, to aCorn his gray, elderly life, nc
was not the less pitiable, and his old pup.
was moved with deepest compassion.
What was to be done? The situation
| must be faced somehow. The wretched
old man must be comforted, II sophistry
| could comfort him.
| William Tremaine lacked neither ply
steal nor moral courage. He won't out
| into the n1oonlit grounds, determined to
| meet his old tutor like a man, and make
| the best Of the situation. That was all
he could do--make the best of It.
He went to the long terrace walk on
| the edge of the lake, expecting to find
DR.. Kirkdale pacing UP and down, com
| fortinS his wounded feelings with pipe.
The professor had heard all, and had
wandered out in his desolation, a man
distracted, into the moonHt loneliness of
the nils, perhaps, seeking tranquility in
solitude. There was nothing to be done
| but to keep the house open all night, and
| patiently await his return. Mr.. Tremaine
and Mrs. ISirkdaie sat in the spacious
| drawing room, with all the windows open
| to the night. She had wrapped herself
| reading
novel. His nature was more emotional,
and he walked about the ROOM and in
and out to the garden, till the twittering
of the birds in the strawberries and
cooler air blowing in from the garden
| presaged the coming of day. Then he
remembered how long they two had been
| watching; and seeing his companion
shiyer. he urged her to go to her room
and get some rest.
I'VE are doing no good here, either you
or t. he said, gently. ut is quite evident
he won't come back tonight"
Quite evident! The morning wind sigh
| ing over the lake, the ripple OF the water
answered him. The doll rose, with an au,
tomato air, drawing her shawl closer
round her
You don't think that anything is
wrong-that any accident has happened
to hlm?' she asked.
mo MOI What should have happenedi
1t is very strange that he should disap-
pear in this way but he is a student-a
man of eccentric habits, no doubt I take
it he has gone home to his book, on the
| spur of the moment, a dozen hours In
advance Of his intention. He told me
| that he could not work here. and that
he was burning to return to his 'magnum
opus He must have rushed off to Win
! dermere to catch the mail train"
1T was very unlIind of him to so with
out me-
GU can follow after breakfast, by the
train you intended to travel by. I will
see you off, and arrange everything for
| your comfort. Indeed, it will be best for
you to be in your own home as soon as
possible. You have friends there, Of
| course?'
ooh, yes; know lots of people,"
And they viii be kind to you, and take
care of you-if--"
He did not finish the sentence, but hand
ed her lighted candle, needless in the
growing dawn, and opened the door for
her and she went upstairs to her room,
and shut herself in where nobody knew
what she thought or feared or whether
she had thoughts or fears of any kind.
When she was gone, Tremaine rang
for his butler. and they held a consulta-
tion which ended in an order for the
lake near the gardens to be dragged as
soon as possible.
Mrs. Kirkdale left Windermere in quiet
comfort, watched over to the moment of
the trains starting by her host.
Il hope you will not be feeling too I'M
happy on the journey" he said