The Montgomery advertiser., 1901-06-13

to an underOtandfng Of the truth. She was an unloved wife, married Jut of pride of rectitude-wedded be- cause of the vanity of self-esteem. I do not know just what she found the courage to say. but know and in- deed. all the world knows what was the life she led. She furnished herself suite of rooms on the second floor of the house. and dwelt apart there, busyins herself with books and music and tapestry and charita ble work. She attended to her husbands home With | the skill of an accomplished housewife. | The breakfast room was perfection when he entered it in the late morn- ings. His paper lay beside His plate. his viands were delicious. the flowers in the bowl fresh and perfumed. But he ate alone. At noon he lunched at the club. If. by remote chance he dined at home his wife received him in dimly lighted dining room, convers- ed upon matters political or literary, | excused herself before coffee, and left him to his cigar and his reflections. There were never invited guests. So far as she was concerned. there were no social pleasures. For a time Low den himself refused to go anywhere. but that grew dull. anr he began to go out. People fell into the way of sympa- thizing with him and he wore one of those palid martyr crowns which so- ciety knows how to drop becomingly upon the heads of some of its mem bers.
 You needn't think you'll ever bear any complaints from Wilimina. my dear" one of her former friends used to say to her intirnates. "She receives me, you know. though she is seldom at home to anyone nowadays. I go
 
 proud as a duchess. The sunlight ! literally streams into her room; and she has fernery there; and some tame bob o'links that hop all about the room. She has regular charity bureau, you may say. and her letter writing keeps her busy two ar three hours day. Then she goes out to ride-always i'll closed carriage. ydu know. I asked her what she did these long winter evenings. You know l couldn't help thinking how one used to see her every where! She said she built up log fire and read, and at ten drank glass of mulled claret and went to bed. Then she smiled at me with the oldest ex- pression. It made me blush, actually. I'd been prying and she knew 1t. She hasn't a mirror in her dressing room | or anywhere in her apartments. In | the day time she usually wears a coni- | fortable tea gown of dark blue or | brown silk. For dinner she dresses rather conventionally-sho leaves it all | to her maid. But she seems to try to | forget material things-she appears to | hate to bother with her body at all I never dreamed she could study as she does. Philosophies, works on sciences, comparative religions--she feeds her mind with such things. It would be a great privilege for anyone who could understand her to have the opportunity | oe talking with her. But I haven't an intellectual notion, as you know. She sees me because I remind her of old times, and because I really love her. She's good womsn-a great woman. I never saw such steadfastness of pur- pose"
 It chanced that more than social suc- cess came to her husband. He became conspicuous in the politics of his city and State; his ambition, unceasingiy pursued, made him a man of large in- terests. Socially he was very popular not because he gave society much of | anything. but because he looked so | proper and because he had that pale martyr crown. And always men and wo- men conscious of that while, delicate, | Well-cared for flesh, those immaculate hands, that irreproachable attire. They said 1t was no wonder that a man like that should shrink from such a hideous creature as his wife was supposed to be. They forgave him when his name became associated with that of another woman. They even went so far as 10 almost forgive the woman.
 Then, one day, society was amazed and change was Hurried to hear that Henry Lowden was down with fa- tai disease. The most hideous .tcna- cious, bafrling and incursble of afflic- tions was upon him. and there was nothing to look forward to but months of torture and inevitable fatality. Worst/of all. the curse was on his face that face of which he had been so prord.
 Hell be more hideous than his wife, whispered people, hnrrified and while they whispered and looked at each ether. 1t came into their thoughts that the mills of the gods were grind ing Il grist of retritution. They were not quite so sure about that martyr crown as they had been. The silent. patient. desolate. kindly life of the wo- man he had been ashamed of because of her outward blemishes, began to make it's appeal to them. And when they heard that month in and month out of horror and torment and chag- , rin, she sat beside him, comforting him. giving him from her full store house of philos1phy and sweetness. they began to be ashamed of them- selves for the misplacins of their sym pathy.
 They said that a last he grew so ter rihe that even the physicians shud- dercd at thought of their visit. But Wilimina was there till the end.
 When he had been dead two years, Mrs. I1owdeu came out to see what the world was like. She WaS seen in her pew at church: she was in the picture galleries and at lectures. Ac- quaintances ventured to call 6nce more and were not refused.
 Her old friends expected to he shock ed by her appearance; but they heheld < woman of indescFibable repose. With a pair of kind and serena eyes looking out from under waving. abundant hair of snowy white-hair whitened two de- cades before its time. The face was scared it is true. but the spirit that dominated the face made he9h seem but an accident of days. The light of immortality was in that smile. It be- came distinction to know her.
 As for the man who had worn the martyrs crown above his pink and white face. people passed his name py as sometimes they were as well pleased not to be remembered.
 Kate M. Clury.