Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1897-08-01

Inc young man Mduo uO ACPAJs Ou1
sat looking intently into the names.
What he had endured during the past
week none knew.
With what doubts and fears, nay,
with what convictions, had he wrestled
and then overcome! A dull apathy
had succeeded his mental turmoil, and
to it he had succumbed, sitting inert
and dumb over the glowing Goals
turning deaf ears to ali attempts TO
rouse him. -
''Wilfred, she is dying and wishes TO
see you" pleaded Miss Heron again.
Starting up, the husband pushed
back the tumbled hair from his brow.
"Dying-did you say"
Yes, Wilfred. The doctors say she
cannot live till morning.
What o'clock is it now?P
1T is near midnight. Hark!
Even as she spoke the clocks chlmed
out the hour.
L will see her. said Wilfred, brac-
ing himself for the ordeal.
Poor woman! she, too, has SUI
fered; and, Wilfred, remember she IS
dying. Be gentle with her. whispered
his guide as they went up stairs.
But there was no need to plead for
mercy to the dying one. When Will
fred entered the room and saw the
pathetic shadow of his wife's former
self lying gazing at him with great
hollow eyes, all his hardness OF heart
melted away, and rushing forward ne
fell upon his knees beside the bed, COW
ering with tears the fragile hand she
extended.
'tlow untidy you lock, dear" said
the feeble voice; land how rough your
hair is. l do believe you are crying.
HOW queer, l never saw you cry be-
fore. l ought to cry, because I'm dy-
ing; but l don't seem TO care
There was silence among the three
The doomed woman, smiling and
feebly stroking her husbands hand,
wore the air of unconcern peculiar 10
those who have lost touch with earthly
matters.
You wished to speak with me, VIC
let" said her husband at last, as she
was drifting into a dreamy, half-con-
scious state, fearful lest he should
lose what she had intended TO tell
him.
"Oh, yes, she murmured, recalling
herself with an effort. Have the
nurses gomez"
Yes, dear Violet" replied Miss Her.
on, Il have sent them away; and now
l shall leave you and Wilfred for
little"
NO, stay! You must hear too, and
when you have heard you must sun
be as good friend to Wilfred as you
always have BEEN" said the weak
voice. and Miss Heron sank into
chair beside the bed.
''Wilfred. want to tell you the
story of my life. You never knew II,
and | want you always TO remember
that when l sinned / did it because
loved you madly.
Il sometimes thought that If had
had happy childhood | should have
been a better woman. But perhaps 1t
wouldn't have made any difference.
My mother was French and my
father was English. That was all
ever knew of him. Mother always
said he was dead. She hated me, and
for many years | was boarded at
cheap school in Paris. Oh, the misery
of those days, with little to eat and
cruel teachers who made me suffer
when their scanty fees did not arrive
punctually! | used to lie awake on
winter night shivering with cold, and
vowing that by fair means or foul l
would be rich some day, for to me
money meant all the good in life.
She faltered and paused.
Don't try to speak, dear, it eX-
hausts YOU" said her husband, as Miss
Heron held a glass of some restorative
to her lips.
Il must tell" she answered YEARLY,
while there is time. | will rest
afterwards. Well, when | was about
fifteen. mother came to see me; and,
finding me pretty, carried me OIL, be-
lieving that l might be of use to her.
She was staying at Nice then, spend
ing all her time at the tables, and sne
thought that having an innocent look
ing daughter with her would make
people think her better than she was.
We were disreputable, l know; but to
one who had lived in hell up till then,
it seemed Heaven. Gathering wild
flowers one day, when ! was about SIX
teen, l met your uncle.
A tremor shook Sir Wilfreds frame,
but he did not speak.
"He was fond of botany, and think
ing was mere child. he spoke about
the flowers, and we became friends.
"He was only Mr. Welland then, but
discovering that he was wealthy,
mother concealed her real character,
and. believing us 10 be well-born,
though not rich, he married me-
Sir Wilfred's head was bowed, his
face covered with his hands. To him,
as to Miss Heron, this recital, while
explaining away the whole enigma,
was the cause of acute agony by open
ing wounds afresh.
Lady Welland, however, was almost
past feeling. She told her story dis
passionately, as though it were tale
of perfect indifference to her; a task
she must accomplish before resting.
Yes. we were married. Then, when
he found out what sort of people we
were, he carried me away to London.
Ii was winter-and cold and foggy. l
knew no one, and he was engrossed in
study always. | did not love him; |
was lonely and wretched and longed
for the blue skies and the gay life
had known. SO | ran away and went
back to mother and a free life. Mr..
Welland repeatedly asked me to return
to him, but l would not. Remember
dear, was Just child then, and think
what my life had been. After time
repented having left my husband and
would have returned to him, but moth
er told me he had divorced me when
deserted him, and wish never to hear
from me again. That wasn't true, but