Catoctin clarion., 1898-11-10

l
the hall, delighted with my rash griev.
ance. Then I shouted:
"Alice!"
"Coming, was returned from the room
above, and Immediately after my wife
hurried down stairs fastening on her
hat as she descended.
Alice got into the trap and took the
rains as usual. I seated myself beside
her. The man got up behind, and so
we started on the last miserable expe-
dition. Neither of US said much. l
looked at her once or twice sideways.
Never had she seemed so handsome, or
in such glowing health. but there was
an unnaturally deep flush upon her
cheek, and her lips were tightly closed
together.
When we reached the station the
train was already in it. rushed to
the booking office, bought our two tick.
cts q have them now for they were
never used) siezed my change, and hur
ried my wife off the platform, reaching
the train just as it was beginning to
move.
"Get in, for goodness sake" I cried.
peevishly, opening carriage door, and
then-God forgive mel gave her a
push. and you know what happened
next.
NV poor wife never spoke again, but
as she lay in the waiting-room, mutt
lated and dying, she Just opened her
eyes and looked at me. Then a sad,
sweet smile came over her face. and,
raising her arms toward me, and as l
bent over her in an agony of remorse,
she put up her dear face for a kiss.
Something held me back--a feeling Of
utter shame and unworthiness. A shad-
ow of pain crossed her face, the arms
arms fell back, and in a moment the
opportunity had passed forever, and our
span of welded life and loye had ended
so.
Do you remember that awful inquest,
Harry7 You were good to me that day
old fellow. No one could have proved
himself truer friend.
You remember that, when ! gave my
evidence, said that l tried to assist
my wife into the carriage. Well, you
know now that I was playing with the
truth. and you will probably despise
me for it. I almost hoped there would
be verdict of manslaughter--that /
should be sent to prison.
There is only one thing more to tell
you. When the accident became known
I received many kind and sympathetic
letters from my friends and hers. I
hardly read them for each one was
fresh stab to me. "If they only knew"
my conscience kept saying to me. She
knows. She died cursed by my i'll
temper, without parting kiss, and if
we meet in another world, what will
she say to ME or | to her?
But there was one letter that arrested
my attention and caused me far more
pain than all the others put together,
1t was from the lady whose invitation
had caused that fatal quarrel. "Per-
haps," it ended, Wit may be some comfort
to you to keep the enclosed letter from
her. I received it after her death
probably the last she ever wrote"
Dearest May: Thank you SO very
much for your kind invitation. should
dearly love to come and see you again
and have good talk over old times.
But Charley cannot we'll spare me just
at present, and he is SO good and kind
to me and so nice about everything that
do not like to be away when he wants
me.
We are just off for a jaunt to celebrate
our wedding day, and Charlie is calling
for me to start. Your loving friend,
ALICE.
That is what she was writing while |
bullied in the hall. That is what she
had written when she silently listened
to my grumbling on the way to the
station. Oh, the irony of it all.
Now you can understand, Harry, why
it is take so long getting over my loss.
One thought, and one alone sometimes
arises to comfort me. Perhaps that
last movement of hers meant forgive
ness and-perhaps-when her attempt
at reconciliation failed, she sent me
that letter as message from beyond
the grave Waverly Magazine.
Office Boy-Say, dere's big feller
down stairs who wants ter lick yer, and
| q ead-aved LITTLE woman with hiu ro1