The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1897-06-04


swallow his joke with his coffee. !.
However, be had not time to carry out
his plan until Sunday came.
Then, while his wife was busy over tho
dinner, he took from its hiding place a
little parcel of pink tinted paper with
rose at the top Of the sheet and concocted
three idiotic and extravagant love letters,
signed them, "Your best beloved and ever
loving Fanny Ann" and put them into
envelopes and addressed them to himself.
He was rather clever with his pen, and
initiated woman's hand very we'll
Having first sealed these up, and then
cut them opon again, he hid them In the
pockets of the clothes he wore on holidays,
and which he did not wear on working
days. and ON Monday when he went to
work left them hanging in the wardrobe.
There they might have remained, for
Doris had grown ashamed of her sus-
pieions of Owen and determined never
again to ransack his pockets, but that
Aunt Sarah dropped In again after Owen
had left the house.
"Out AGAIN." she said, with nod
Eyes, and hard at work, poor boy, )" re-
piled Doris. "Aunt Sarah, I'm sure that
he is as true to mo as one angel could be
to another"
81 should like to look through his pock-
cts, though" giggled Aunt Sarah.
"Look, then, " said Doris, throwing open
the wardrobe door. "There are his
things"
Aunt Sarah took her at her word and in
a moment more her sbrill, yixenish voice
cried out:
"Three pink notes, my dear, and all
signed Fanny Annp
An hour afterward Doris sat at the CEN
ter table in her little parlor sobbing vio-
lently.
The light from the shaded lamp fell up
on the three pink notes all wet with tears,
OVENS compositions as VIC know, and SO
absurdly rapturous and idiotic that they
would have betrayed tho fact that they
were jokes to any but jealous woman.
But Doris, in her woe and wrath, had
very little common sense left,
Aunt Sarah, frightened by the storm
her own deed had raised, had taken her
departure, and Doris had resolved to wait
for Owens return, show him the letters
and at once go home to her mother.
Fer awhile it had seemed to her that
she would find ut home refuge and con-
ISOLATION for all her woes. Then she began
to vince with modification. To tell her
mother that Owen was false to her would
not BIO so bad, but that her sisters should
know it, her friends, jacks wife, the
whole connecticut
ooh, life would not be worth living I'M
der such circumstance" Doris cried out,
and then an awful thought crept into her
,tt,l md ctr nfrtl, A ipn1
Gus man or woman Is II maniac. Let that
be an excuse for Doris when she cried out
at last:
Death is the only curc Death! Death!
| And if God will not kill mo, must kill
myself"
At 2 o'clock Owen opened the door Of
his fat and went in. Things did not look
as usual The kitchen fro had gone out,
and no little snack had been kept warm
for him. Tho bed in the little bedroom
was still neatly made up, and 40 one had
slept in it that night In tho parlor the
lamp was yet burning but Doris was not
there.
As he looked about him he saw doors
and drawers oDen and things scattered
| about, and nameless terror began to
! possess him.
"Doris!" he called aloud, but there WAS
| no answer. He walked to the table.
| There lay three sheets of pink paper with
| a weight upon them to keep them from
| blowing away and beside them another
| letter, addressed to himself. Poor Owen
could hardly command himself sufficiently
to tear this open and read tho contents.
have read Fanny Ann g letters. Aunt Sarah
tlp,, i, bot 0hya
| thought you loved nc, but your heart has been
| stolen by that wicked woman, l was not pref
| ty enough to keep You true, but now that you
/ are false l Go not care TO live any longer.
nm going to drown myself and leave you free.
| Your broken hearted DORIS.
And this then, was how his joke had
ended. This was what he had brought
about Doris had killed herself. Then
he would follow her example But first
he must find her body and pay it tho last
honors. He caught up his hat and left
his dcsolato home, tho tears gushing from
| his eyes as no remembered how happy he
| had been there.
When he reached the street, he stood be-
wildered, asking himself which way he
should CO. what he should do. Then It
came to him that he must report the hor.
an alarm sent out. The police would
| know what to do better than he could,
| and with heavy steps and reeling brain hC
sought the big brick building before which
/ tho great lamps hung, and entered in.
Late as 1t was there was u little crowd
| there, gathered about something that lay
in the middle Of tho floor
A horrible thought struck Owcn-per-
haps it might DO his wife's body on which
they gazed.
"What Is it?" he gasped, with white
lips TINT could scarcely form n sound,
"Young woman jumped into the river, "
said policeman.
my God" cried Owen, bursting
through the crowd and falling on his knees
before tho wet figure lying on the floor
with policeman's coat under its head,
my God, it is my Wife,
Tho next instant he gave shout of
| Joy, for the great eyes Enclosed themselves,
the little, trembling hands were out
| stretched toward him and a faint voice
said:
"Oh, Owen, take mo away from this
dreadful place and all these dreadful
| menu
| . For Doris though she had really thrown
| herself from the end of wharf into the
river, had been promptly flshcd out by the
| river police, and though soaked to the
skin, terribly frightened and heartily
ashamed of herself was very much aliyo
indeed and when Owen had whispered
something in her ear-the story of his
| joke, which we already know-could only
| sob:
Forgive me, Owen; pray forgive mel"
"She was bit out of her mind, you
see, with a sort of fever" Owen explained,
"and God bless those who saved her to
me-"
Then he took his wife homo, and what
ever else has come to its humble door
since that day, the green eyed monster,
jealousy, has never entered. Dublin
World