El Paso daily herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1881-1901, 1899-07-15

to and fro in the fever OF temptation,
moaning feebly, until some one touch
ed her appraised arm, and her hand fell
instinctively. Edith's husband was
standing beside her, speaking to her.
IT beg your pardon, madam, there
is parcel under your seat. Would you
allow me to see if it is the one we are
looking for No. it is not; thanks. I
am sorry for disturbing: you"
He moved away, not a CLEAN OF rec
ignition in his face, and she looked
after him dumbly, her hands lying on
her lap.
At first she could not see him plain
ly for a red mist shrouded her eyes;
but it passed away, and he stood clear
before her, a man in the prime of life;
stalwart and shapely, with handsome
sunny face as insouciant, free from
remorse and care as Edith's own, 6
man whom the world used we'll, who
had obeyed her last request in the
spirit as we'll as the letter. Changed;
oh, so little changed since the summer
days long ago, when she watched him
died on her lips, the tumult in her
her god among men-a little fuller
in the body and redder in face, but
otherwise unchanged, unchanged!
AS she looked the prayer for help
died on her lips, the tumult in her
heart ceased, and she knew Edith's
husband was at that moment as safe
from molestation from her as if al
ready ten thousand miles of water flow
ed between them. No impulse urged her
as she had feared, to throw herself at
his feet and tell him she could never
leave him again, that he must give up
home and children for her sake. No,
she felt she could sit in his presence
till morning, watch him playing with
his children. chatting Familiarity with
his so-called wife, and never even wish
to claim him as her own, because her
love for him was dead. She cared no
more for him for whom she had sacri-
feed her youth. almost her life.
She watched him passing out, fol-
lowed by his family, then rose with a
bewildered gesture, scarcely knowing
where she was. She looked at her COM
panion, still sleeping In her corner,
from her to Mrs. Dennys, who came
flouncing in for the fourth and last
time, and who addressed her uncere-
moniously.
"Oh! Can you tell me, please, if my
maid has returned? No? If she does
will you tell her the box has been
found, and We" Then the maid ap-
pearing, she went on, "Oh, here you
are! The box has turned up and we
are ready to start at last. Are the
children in the landau? I am taking
Master Percy in the brougham with
me. Be sure to put my dressing
case on the front seat. I think that's
all. Oh, if ever 1 travel with such a
nursery again." she muttered. impa-
tiently fastening on a gauze veil be-
tore the glass. IT wonder where Paul
Is? Does he intend driving in the
brougham or landau? I haven't seen
"Mr Dennys. madam. has gone on
foot-he said 1t was such . fine night
he would IKE the walk across the
fields
Fine night! Why, it is raining hard
and blowing almost a gale. EXtraordi-
nary idear'
At last the station was clear of Mrs.
Dennys, her nursery, maids and foot
men; and Helen, unable to bear the air
of the room where so many emotions
had been crowded went out to breathe
in the gale.
She hurried along needless of where
she was going, her cumbrous bonnet
swinging in her hand, her cloak flying
out behind her like a great black wing.
Was she glad or sorry, relieved or
disappointed? Had she ever loved
him at all, even in those sunny days
before she had heard Edith's name?
If she had lived out her life in peace
by his side, if he had never wanted to
desert her, never cared for another,
would she in time have come to feel
towards him as she had felt at that
moment? Would he have fallen by
degrees from the pedestal on which
she had placed him. or would
he have always remained enthroned in
her foolish infatuated eyes?
These and hundred other questions
she asked herself vainly, as she hur-
ried through the storm; but she could
find no answer, her mind was racked
for the moment, the only feeling clear
to her was sense of self-pity and con-
tempt for the years she had wasted in
futile anguish.
Even now the tempter Whispered,
was it too late? After all she was
only twenty-six-years OF youth lay
before her If she wished. Why not
coax fire and life back to her dimmed
eyes, paint her pale cheeks, let her
dark hair grow, and taste pleasure af-
ter her long fast therefrom? Why
not bring men to her feet, shallow
faithless men, as she had done before
make other wives weep as she had
wept? Surely she had endured enough
already; was there sense in donning
sackcloth and ashes to the end, deny
ing herself constantly, living in the
midst of misery, disease and death,
when she had been no wilful sinner.
but one who had been sinned against