The citizen. (Frederick City, Md.) 1895-1923, 1897-09-03
A LIFE HISTORY.
BY JENNY WREN.
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CAN say without vanity, looking
back over this long stretch of years,
that l was not unjustly called the belle
of our town. 1t was quiet place dur
ing eight long months of the year and
found it dull enough, and wondered
why it was appointed that must drag
out my life within its limits, but the re-
naming four months saw it emerge as
the butterfly from it's chrysalis, and
waken into such fullness of action that
It almost compensated. 1t was during
those periods that | learned my beauty
entitled me to wider sphere, or so |
thought in my narrowness of iudg-
ment; but when. at ball or reception, |
saw men leave the richly sttired women
whom they met the year round TO seek
an introduction TO me, simply dressed
and the daughter of retired officer. IL
was little wonder that blush of con-
scious pride rose to my cheek or my
eye burned with satisfied vanity.
/ was but is when | met Vance Will
mour. He was double my age, and when
he bent over me with the wonderful
grace of manner he so fully possessed,
or let his eyes dwell on mine with an
impassioned glance, my heart would
fhrob as a voice within would say:
This is love- 1t seemed as though an
emperor had stopped from his throne
to ask the peasant girl to share his high
estate when he at last told me of his
devotion and asked me to become his
wife. My father shook his head when |,
1oyously eXultant, asked him to receive
my lover.
He is not the man to make my bright,
uncaged bird happy" he answered.
stake care, Madge. No matter how
brightly gilded the bars may be, the
mountain songster will beat out his
life against them in the struggle to be
free"
But to all that he might say my ears
were deaf. He could bring forward no
real obstacle, however, and so won at
Inst reluctant consent, and six months
from the day | met Vance Wilmour
became his wife. At last was to see
and mingle with the world. 1t was of
this l thought, rather than the solemn
vows had just uttered, as side by side
we had babe farewell to the old home,
and were journeying to the new. Still,
all my heart was his, and had he cared
10 mold me he might have cast it in any
form.
l was not long in finding the empti-
ness of that | had so desired. The
home to which my husband had brought
me was perfect in its every appoint
ment. The suite of rooms he had had
prepared for me to my unaccustomed
seye presented vista of fairyland, and
for time | was happy But then, as
my father had predicted, my wings be-
gan to beat themselves against the bars.
/ learned to recognize that underneath
the velvet touch was the iron hold, that
must stand ever ready with smile,
faultlessly dressed. to receive him and
those whom he summoned to admire his
caFtive. No WEAKNESS, no fatigue gave
EXCUSE. l leCsrEed then why he had
married me. Wealth, station, all were
his, but his pride demanded more. My
beauty he knew would reflect credit
upon his taste. was too young, too ig-
norant to interfere with his pleasures
Or assert my rights as a wife. So he
reasoned, and his judgment served him
well.
For year there was little to mar the
scene; then my health failed. Excite
ment and constant gayety did their
work. Nature demanded rest, and even
he was obliged to recognize the neces-
sity. Then followed months in which
scarcely saw him, when he hardly !
found time to come to the couch on !
which l constantly lay to inquire II I !
were better or worse; and when in my /
impatience | would greet him with I
words of reproach or anger he would
silence me by some cutting words of (
scorn, which would leave their sting |
for days behind. Twas utterly unable to
cope with him. and when in the spring
three years from the date of our mar
riage he was induced to join hunt
ing excursion ON the western plains
babe him good-by with scarce feeling
of regret.
Six weeks later | was one day sum-
moned TO the presence of gentleman
who told me with trembling voice and
pallid lips that | was widowed. Their
party while hunting had been attacked /
by a party of Indians and Vance had /
fallen in the field. while they, to save
their own lives, had been unable even to T
rescue his body. The shock proved more
than l could bear. and for months they
thought would not live; but as health
and strength crept slowly back a won
derful softness had taken possession of
my heart, and ! mourned him with a
tender pity, burying his faults in his
far-off grave.
As soon as | was able to bear the jour
ney | closed my house and turned my
face to the old home with great con-
tent nesting in my spirit, that the quiet
/ had once despised again was to be
mine. My dear old father met me with
open arms, and | felt when pressed to
his breast as though / had gained
haven indeed after my long and stormy
voyaging on the sea of life. Two peace
full years passed away and my fathers
hair grew white and his form bent. l
began to think of the time when l
should be left alone in the world-alone
and desolate
had kissed him good night one even
ing as passed out and wendell my way
to the little village church. Sad
thoughts had brooded in my memory
Ill i y