Chicago eagle. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1889-19??, 1896-01-25

On, the terrible rec0llectI0nI Tne
thought Of Il made the blood rush to
her heart, and she again felt the same
shame, the same terror, which had
wholly overpowered her before her
Judges revolver and stern face.
Everything had suddenly assumed .
strange rapidity. She had faced her
husband, crying: "Mercyi mercy! I
promise TO never see him againv'
Her husband had hesitated q mo-
ment; had looked at them, crushing
them under the weight Of hi contempt;
then, without lowering his revolvse.
had dictated these conditions:
"Promise on the gospel, on your eter.
nal life, that you win never see this
creature again; that you will obey me
in oil; and that you viii accept the pun.
ishment which may please to innict."
In the anguish Of her fear and love
she had promised, word for word, what
he had insisted upon.
On Sign Of her husband the young
man, Inundated and villAed, had Dc.
parted and her expiation had begun.
Her husband had resigned his com.
mand h the army and had gone 10 live
on that mountain slope. assuming .
falss name, hiding bic secret from all.
Like two stones that fail to the bottom
Of the sea, they had disappeared from
society without leaving any trace.
Twice . year she wrote to her mother.
Her husband read her letters, would
mail them himself In some far.oR place.
Finally her mother had died, and from
that day no letters were sent.
In that terrible isolation she had gone
through oil the stages Of despair. For
several days she declined to eat, wish.
ing to starve; but her inexorable Judge
had said 70 her:
"You ere Christian; you have prom.
iDed to obey; Therefore eat"
And she obeyed, because even In her
excess Of despair and revolt, even
amidst her thoughts Of suicide, the idea
Of failing IN her promise had never
crossed her mind. That promise was,
IN . certain sense, the supreme inner.
itancs Of her love, the painful tic that
bound her to the past.
A. she had lived, hope alone remain.
ed. She had hoped that her husband,
after hs hsd noticed her sveetness. do.
ciiitv Ana natisncs. voui6 rsisnt. ana
for many years she had observed his
pensive forehead day By day, hoping
to zee on Il Sign Of forgiveness.
He never treated her rudely, he never
allowed himself 10 b wanting In 70.
spect toward her. nor 20 speak TO her
Q harsh or sharp word. Only once.
having found her sobbins IN . At Of
despair. hs had said to her:
any life II no better than yours. yet
I have betrayed no one"
He had, IN fact sacrificed everything
Ibis ambition, career. family. pleas.
ures-to bury himself with her. IN the
came atonement
She had hoped. but IN vain. Days,
weeks, years had giided on In an in.
flexible monotouy; self-control vanish.
cd, she became the snort Of moods, &C.
cording to the time and humor-noW
weary OF life. now tormented BY re.
morse, now iritated and full OF hatred.
How many Q time she had said to her.
self:
HE 10 old and I am young: he Will
die and I shall bs free! When shall !
be freef
And now he vas dy,ns. Az thi,
thoueht she felt = strsnse spirit.iike
feeling. which startIed her. Al lat m
WA about Ia be ~. her own mistress
| her actioxs free. her thouehta free. fre1
| 10 love and be loyedi
Ali the 10y Of escaping from her pris
on. Of seeking other horizons, Of erasp
in9 friendly haudsi
She felt . kind Of intoxication in he,
brain. and ROSE. feeling the need Il
walk or move: stiffness was death, and
she had enough Of death. silence. cold
ness, solitude.
And % the moon, which was higl
above the horison, sent Ito pale rayi
through the window she went to lear
against the mautelpiece, ssised By I
kind 6tuneasiness. She turned her fac,
to the mirror. and stood there. looking
ct herself She was stu beautiful.
linen ner lips parted with Q smile
THOSE Who had known her would know
ner etl!: But who would stu remem
DM ner' ana what had become OF ne
trienos' OF her acquaintances3
ana what had become OF him1 At thi
question sne Ielt herself oelsed upol
oy rear; not mat she would appear d
nim 'ess handsome. Or that enc ha'
Oeen 'orso';en. sno reared tnat o.