Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1897-10-14
S(SG([CSS~
CHAPTER XVIII.

MrS, CareW SHOOK Qer nedu.
Truth is often stranger than hctlon,
she said. 'You will not be surprised to
hear that my husband and | did not agree
for one hour Before the sun had set on
my wedding day, l felt sure that L had
made myself misera BILE for life. We could
not agree-we could not understand each
other. He seemed to me a grim, stern
guardian; appeared to him foolish, I'M
disciplined child; and, after time, the
usual result was attained-the very IN
sensity of his love changed into dislike.
sour first violent quarrel took place
about the time my father died. had
went as one who could never be comfort
ed. It seemed, however, to my chlldlsn
mind, source of some comfort to renect
that my father should have one OF the
finest monuments in Lima. My husband
refused to listen to my request; 1T was all
nonsense, sentimental rubbish-a PLAIN
headstone would do just as well as mar
bic monument. One hard word led to an
ether We had the most violent quarrel
OF our lives. It all seems very childish
to me now, and very foolish; but then 1t
was a terrible tragedy. We did not speak
at my fathers funeral, but when 1t was
ever he came to comfort me. l was lying,
sick at heart, on a couch, and he tried 10
kiss me. DO not cry so bitterly, Grace,
he said 4 will try to be very KIND to
you DO not touch mel hate you, l
cried. DO you mean that, Grace! he
asked Yes, mean it, l am sorry that
| ever saw you'll am sorry that L mar
ried YOU. | wish that [ could be freed
from you, and never see you again.
wish that l lay dead by my fathers side!
He stood quite still while the torrent OF
my wrath rolled over him. When he
turned to me again his face was as the
face of the dead Had he acted wisely,
he would have borne with me until my
humor had ch lnged; as it was, he invest
ed childish passion with the dignity of
woman's anger He repeated, DO you
mean that, GraceY I mean ten thou
sand times more, replied; and he bowed
and left me.
after that we rarely spoke; when we
did, it was to quarrel most violently-and
never failed to tell him how intensely
hated him. I believe you hate me, poor
child he said to me once; land it is a
hard belief, too. 1 married you because
I loved you so dearly l cried out that
had never wanted his love. I believe
ANS
me marry you if you knew how little you
cared for me| Because | was a child,
and a foolish one,' I cried; and am so
miserable now that 1 wish thousand
times over that were dead He looked
30 strangely at me that was frightened;
there was a terrible expression on his
face: his eyes seemed to flame. l saw the
fingers of his hand clinch.
"'Are you going to kill me, PeterT
asked; L do not know, he replied. AT
times | think that the wisest thing can
do is to kill you first and myself after
ward-anything would be better than this
terrible pain which you make me suffer-
And from that moment | felt sure that he
would murder me. l resolved upon run
ming away. All the stories that had ever
read of jealous, angry husbands staying
their wives, all the horrible tragedies ever
perpetrated, came back to me, and l felt
auite sure that some such story would one
day be told about me. | am no coward,
but this idea took morbid hold Of me. l
packed a small bag, collected the little
sums of money that from time to time he
had given me, and went away, hoping new
err in this world to see his face again. 1t
was strange coincidence, but on that
very day favorite and confidential clerk
of my husbands ran away; and from the
advertisements that l saw, had strong
conviction that my husband thought we
had gone away together.
''From that day that left the house of
Peter LennoX, a frightened, terrible child,
IN fear and trembling, | have never held
any communication with him. was even
seward enough to be pleased that he
should have a completely bad opinion Of
me. | left Lima, and, with the few
pounds that had, came over to England.
Then something occurred that altered my
whole life. Five months after / left my
husbands house my dear son Beltran was
Born
Lady Ailsa uttered a low cry of sur
prise; and for the first time during the
telling of her story, Mrs. Carew's voice
srembled and faltered.
Il did wrong, then" she said-syou will
And it hard to forgive me. Mind, when l
Eeft Peter Lennox, l was but a foolish,
ignorant child. Still did wrong to con-
zeal from my husband the fact that he
had son. ought to have written to him
ut once, and told him. even had I hidden
the child from his sight forever. I loved
my little Beltran so dearly; he was a fine,
handsome child, and in my passionate love
COR him l swore that he should be my own
fegever and that no one should ever share
IN his love. Before that time had called
myself Mrs. Lennox; now | resolved upon
calling myself by my maiden name of Ca
new took all precautions, though, about
my son-the registration of his birth, the
certificate, go to prove the truth of what
say. Though | swore that Peter Len
nox should never know even Of his birth,
still l arranged everything so that at any
moment could prove my boys claims"
ut is wonderful story" said Bea-
arix. in low voice.
II have but little more to add" contin-
ned Mrs. Carew. when, after being in
society for many years, heard at last of
Peter Lennox of Erceldean, the great
millionaire, it did not occur to me that it
wns nnv husband of tWenty-f0ur wears be-