The Wellington enterprise. [volume] (Wellington, Ohio) 1899-1900, 1899-07-26
The Only Way
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nger, sat brooding over the fire. The
study lamp was turned low, for he
found dull light invariably assisted
his meditations, and he was particu-
larly anxious to arrive at some definite
decision upon perplexing question
that faced him that evening. The sud
den illness of both an indispensable
member OF his company and the under
study had left him in serious dilemma
for VINO could replace the absent play
er? 1t was part that required special
and peculiar abilities, and he had al
ready mentally ticked off the names of
q dozen or so men as being quite un-
adapted for the vacant role, when he
heard the sound of some one rushing
up the stairs. He started and rose to
his feet, for his family had long since
retired 10 rest
''Quick! Hide me; they're coming!"
A man had swung open the door, closed
II after him, and burst into the room
painting and out of breath, his hair dis
heveled, and bright CLEAN in his
eyes. VI"
whats the. matter?" qneried Hur-
combe,s hurrietly. cHow did you get
here?'' S'.-s'
The visitor hesitated ,land looked at
him queerly.
"The door was open, they were after
me, and / ran m. They say I'm mad,
but I'm not. BY Godl I'm not madl
Not mad yet-yetl" And he burstinto
a scream of laughter which would have
been heard all over the house had not
the room been sound proof. Hurcombe
had had it made so purposely, as he now
refnembered TO his consternation.
eAny fool could tell that" replied
the actor, eoolly, with the air OF one
receiving an expected visitor. But
there's no occasion 10 hide. You're as
safe here as anywhere"
Again the man looked at him queerly,
detecting with the sharp wits Of lun-
acy the double entendre in his words.
"Sir, believe you; but you don't
know what I've bSen Though, Mad!
They would wish me tnadl They've
yearn6d for (, ireyed for it, but I'm moi
mad Tell me, I'm not mad!"
He had drawn closer TO Hurcombe
who took advantage of the change OF
position to edge nearer the electric
bell, which, if he could but reach, would
arouse the household.
"My dear sir, I've already told you
you're laboring under delusion in
snpposing anything's wrong with your
mental balance. Sit down a moment
and I'll get you some refreshment;
you're tired, doubtless" And he went
TO open the door, but it was locked.
Iiurcombe glanced back at the man
His only reply was a cunning smile
which oyerspread his countenance.
Il seq you've taken the trouble to
fasten the door," said the manager
-'That's as velour conversation will
be more private" And inwardly treB
bling, he lit cigar and sat down.
"You'ye something to tell me, Of
course?" said Hurcombe presently
He knew all madmen had stories TO re
late, and that il humored them 20 listen
IT was also method of gaining time.
"Yes! Do you know what it is tC
love--to hate?"
The actor smiled. He did-on the
stage.
ITO love is to hate" continued thu
nocturnal intruder, who, following
Hurcombe's example, had now drawr
up a chair TO the fire opposite him. 80
have both loved and hated. A yeal
ago / worshiped the most beautiful
woman or any man ever set eyes upon
! wooed her. We were married, anG
settled down in the country to joy
Gus existence, for 1 had enough Il
keep us both in comfort in a modest
way. My wife adored me, and we wert
as happy as the days were long till h'
came upon the scene"
The mailman glared at his host as i
the object of his vengeance sat befor,
him in the flesh.
ale was handsome, fascinating, will
a look that killed women. He carried
everything before him, and brok,
hearts as easily as you or l woult
knock down ninepins; and my wife fel
with the rest. One day had been to
village few miles off, reaching hom'
inst after dusk. Muriel did not run t,
the gate as usual to meet me, and hat
q dim, hazy perception that something
was wrong. @ 3s
II ran upstairs into every room, bu
Iuriel was not there. Our servant wa
out, SO could not question her; bu
when entered the dining-room no
ticed scrap of paper lying on tn
table. 1t took 1t up eagerly; it simpl.
bore the words: 'Good-by,' and was il
his handwriting. How cursed himl
"Had Muriel written the note, i
would have been different; but that h
should pen those words-what mock
eryl Like one demented, curse,
everything; l called on Heaven t,
strike him deaA and the woman too
my wifeI
sir, if have ever been mad, wa
mad at that moment. The room con
fined, stihed me. clinched my hand
and could have torn down the YER
walls with my finger nails. had su
perhuinan strength; If needs hav
been, ] would have lifted the world an
hurled it at my wife and her lover
Rushing out Of the house, | saddle
my mare and rode of. II was Londo
thai they had gone to; the last trail
had left couple Of hours since, an