The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-08-24

She took her accustomed seat at the bot
tom of the table, and scarcely glanced at
her husband.
In the glare of the lamp which the girl
lighted after Janet was seated George
Hurst looked even less slightly than before.
The light revealed his hard, square, scanned
face, the scanty greyish hair, damp with
perspiration and plastered on his narrow
forehead, furrow round the head left by
mis- felt hat showing distinctly. 1t brought
into prominence his heavy, prominent jaw,
his large ears his loose, ill-htting clothes.
He pulled his chair 10 the table with
unnecessary noise and helped himself to.
the beef and beer, eating with the voracity
of an animal Not a word did he say to
his wife, though every now and then
furtive half-savage glance darted upwards
from beneath the shaggy brows.
Nearly a year had made a great differ
ence in Janet, but whether she had i'm
proved or deteriorated it was difficult to
say. The figure was fully developed. and
in harmony of line was perfect The beau
ty of the face had ripened, but 1t had not
the suggestion of sweetness, the old Turk
ing smile in the dimples. Faint lines slight
~ depressing the corners of the firm lips
were just visible.
She was sitting almost as motionless as a
statue, her proud, scOrnful face turned
from her husband. when a clatter of
crockery aroused her. Hurst had thrust
his plate from him with jerk. and. plant
ing his elbows square on the table, was
glaring at her with spot of angry color
in each cheek. The beer jug by his side
was empty and had been more than once
replenished
Mrs. Hurst" said he, with thump of
the asst that made the plates and dishes
dance. '1isten to me. You're not stone
deaf, though you look it. I've got some
thing to tell you"
The young woman made no reply; her
scorn only deepened.
"A fortnight ago, when I caught Ralph
Herne, the servant of your old flame, Steve
Musgrave, near the big barn, 1 swore if L
found him foxing round again I'd mark
him. I've kept my word. The hound'l
reach home with some stripes on his face
he hadn't got when he set out to deliver
love message to another mans wife,
He paused to watch the effect of his
words. If possible, his wife sat more
statuesque than before. The red spots on
the farmers cheeks deepened
See here, Mrs. Hurst" he roared. "I'll
make you speak. Iii tame you yet. Ralph
Hernell take back something else besides
his marks. Tell your MASTER says 1, my
whip cuts deep"
If he thought to rouse her he was mis-
taken. Not a muscle in her cold, impassive
face quivered. She rose from the table and
rang the bell.
Molly" said she, your master has fin
ished"
The infection in her voice showed the
double meaning, but whether Hurst's slug
gish brain grasped the allusion to his own
words is doubtful.
The entry of the servant silenced him.
He sat with his elbows resting on the table,
his chin buried in his big, brown hands, his
face flushed to a deep purple, his eyes
swollen. the veins in his temples throbbing.
dead to everything but his own jealousy
Rumor had been busy with Farmer
Hurst's domestic affairs since his marriage.
The most discreet of couples cannot con-
ceal their differences from their servants.
1t was an open secret that during a fierce
quarrel Hurst had struck his wife. and she
swore she would never speak to him again.
Two months had gone since that terrible
scene, and Janet had kept her word.
In marrying George Hurst she thought to
show Stephen MGsgTave her independence,
but in reality she had thrown away free
dom for slavery. George Hurst had no no
ton of giving something for nothing and
as he was rich and worshiped riches he
considered he had performed an act of con-
decension in marrying Janet Langdon, who
had nothing, and that she deficient in
gratitude when she was Indifferent to him
and his affairs.
In truth she was as unsuitable for the
Rectory farm and its master as were the
modern furniture, the piano, the mirrors
for what was called the best room, with
it's dark oak paneling and great beam run
ming across the low ceiling.
1t was not her indifference, her listless-
ness, her thorough unfitness to be the farm
er's wife which ranked. Though all this
formed the groundwork of Hursts ill
humor, it did not do more than vex and
mortify him. But when it came to his ears
that Ralph Herne, Stephen Musgrave's
man. was continually hanging about the
Rectory farm, jealousy took the place of
ill temper, and jealousy soon grew into
hatred.
The day following the encounter with
Ralph Herne the farmer was due at Rails
ton Market. He had drunk heavily after
the scene with his wife, and awoke with
parched throat, yellow skin and shaking
hands. Morose and taciturn. he break
tasted by himself, and set out at early
hour on his roam.
Night came, he did not return, and Janet,
assuming he had got tipsy at the farmers
dinner and had stopped at Ralston, was
not surprised. But when the next night ar
rived and he was still absent it was time
TO make inquiries. She sent a messenger
to Ralston, and the man came back with
the news that the farmer Hurst had left
the town about on the evening of the mar
ket day. This was strange and alarming,
gence which reached the Rectory farm
in the early morning that the mare had
been found floating in the river-dead
There was little doubt to the cause
of the farmers disappearance. The near
est road to RalstOn was by crossing the
river, not by the bridge, but by the ford
a mile lower down. As a rule the water
at the ford was no more than a couple of
feet deep but April and May were rainy
months and the river was swollen. The
roam had evidently stumbled, for its knees
were cut, and unable to recover its foot
ing had been swept away by the current,
~ xr-,tI,