The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1899-05-17
CHAPTER XIII.
copyright. 1899. by the Author.l

She therefore whisked out the middle
page and gave the rest Of the paper to
the maid.
"Tell Mr.. Stacey that will come up
in few minutes" she said.
When the servant had left the room,
her first thought was how che could
best conceal that part Of the paper from
Alan. Then she ran to the door.
"Alice. Alice, come backl" she call
ed. "Give me the paper. I will go up
to Mr.. Stacey myself"
But she did not go up at once. She
turned back into the dining room and
deliberately tore the sheet containing
the telegram across, 60 that the corner
where the account Of the rescue Of the
survivors Of the Arikhama had been
was gone. This she threw into the fire
Then she went up the wide shallow
stairs and turned in at her bedroom
door,
"My dear boy" she said in tone as
much like her natural voice as supreme
effort could make it, II really don't
think that You ought to be reading the
newspaper, particularly lying down in
bed. Let me read TO you"
She sat down by the fire with her
back to the light. Alan Stacey lay back
among his pillows idly enough.
II don't care about reading, so long
as you II sit there and talk to me-" he
said lazily. '''Is there anything in the
paper1"
moo; an account Of the ball last
night, with our noble names in the
paragraph. All the rest is pretty much
as usual"
She glanced down the day by day
column. gave him a list Of all the
items Of news that might in any way
serve to interest him, and after that
they talked for little while, and then
Alan Stacey said that he might as we'll
get up as lie idling there, and Mary
went down stairs again, carrying the
paper in her hand; carrying also her
burden with her; carrying with her
the knowledge and the conviction that
he would have to be told that she must
be the one to break the news to him;
that there must be no Sinking it, no
getting out Of it; that it was a task
which lay right in front of her, task
which she must accomplishment the
sooner the better
Then she remembered that if she told
him Alan would naturally ask to see
the paper containing the news. But she
had burned it'll She felt--so strangely
are we moved by trifes in times Of
great difficulty-that she could not en-
dure to let him know that her first
thought had been to hide the truth
from him. Then how was she to ac-
count to him for having destroyed that
part Of the paper3 Should she send out
and get another copy2 She did not like
to do that, nor did she like to go her.
self-it would look SO strange.
And then the thought came to her:
Why tell him at allf Why say anything
about it2 Why break up and destroy
their intense happiness9 Nothing could
be wider apart than the lives led by
Edward Conway and Alan Stacey's
wife. Why admit that she had seen the
news that part Of the crew of the Ari-
khama had been rescued2 Just now,
when Alan was showing signs of over
work and about to take holiday, it
would be cruel to deal him such blow
A few weeks longer in her sunshine
would make no difference to anybody
but herself Alan would never know
Edward Conway need never know
that she had been aware all along that
three men belonging to the Arikhama
had been rescued off an uninhabited
island in the Pacific ocean. Why should
she say anything? Why should she not
at least let Alan finish his beok-the
greatest book he had ever done-take his
holiday, and, if the blow fell then-why,
he would be the better prepared to
meet it. 1t would be bad enough if Ed
ward Conway discovered her and the
secret could not be kept any longer.
Having thus made up her mind to
keep the news which had reached her
to herself, she acted Immediately. She
destroyed the torn sheet of the paper
AEu thu UHc puit NuIH IeHidlAcu
earelessly into the rack with the other
Journals, trusting to her own wit to
keep Alan from wishing to look at it
during the day. 1t was an off day with
the young lady who typed to her dicta-
ton, so that she was free of any tie of
work. She set herself to do some nee
dlework in order that she might look &C.
cupied when Alan made his appearance,
and she sat near the window stitching
industriously, while her mind went over
and over again such shreds Of self
justification as she could find to salvs
her conscience She told herself that it |
was not as if she had gone into an IT.
regular union with her eyes open.
She had truly and honestly believed
herself to be Edward Conway's widow,
and her marriage with Alan was her
real marriage. What was it they said2
~ require and charge you both, as ye |
will answer at the dreadful day Of judg-
ment when the secrets of all hearts shall
be disclosed, if either Of You know of
any impediment why ye may not law
fully be joined together in matrimony,
ye do now confess it" Then came these
impressive words: "Those whom God
hath joined together let no man put
asunder." Surely, surely, God had join
cd them; surely, surely, it had been by
the permission Of God that such blaze
Of pure and innocent joy and glory had
come into her life; surely she would be
doing right to continue such union.
The most fanatical and bigoted lover Of
could never wish that
she should go back to live the life Of
shame and degradation which had been
hers during those few months after her
first marriage-after that barbarous sale
Of herself into which she had been driven
by circumstances absolutely beyond her
control.
Alan Stacey came down presently,
and when Mary noticed how haggard
and i'll he was looking she thanked
heaven that she had kept the news Of
Edward Conway's survival to herself.
She exerted herself in every possible
way to please him, coaxing him to eat
when lunchtime came and being SEEM
ngly in the gayest and brightest Of
,pirits. But nothing served to rouse him
~ Ali l.. .,L l