Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1902-11-08

twenty-nine-they had but few ideas in
common.
That she nursed him tenderly I was well
aware; but from her manner l had long
ago detected that her apparent devotedness
was only in order to humor him. and that
she possessed little or no real affec ion Tor
him. Nor was it much wonder, after ALL
A smart young woman, fond of society and
amusement is never the kind of wife for
snappy invalid of old Courtenay's type. She
had married him, some five years before,
for his money, her charitable enemies said
Perhaps that was So In any case, 1t was
difficult to believe that pretty woman of
her stamp could ever entertain any genuine
affection for man of his age, and 1t was
most certainly true that whatever bond of
sympathy had existed between them at the
time of their marriage had now been
snapped.
Instead Of remaining at home of an even
ing and posing as a dutiful wife, as she
once had done, she was now in the habit Of
going up to town to her friendS-the Penn
Pagets, who lived in Brook street, or the
Hennkers in Radcliffe Square-accompany-
ing them to dances and theaters with all the
defiance of the "covenances' allowed now
adays to the married woman. On such oc-
casions, growing each week more frequent
her sister Ethelwynne remained at home,
to see that Mr.. Courtenay was properly at
tended to by the nurse, and exhibited a
patience that I could not help but admire.
Yes, the more I reflected upon it the more
curious seemed that nl-assorted menage. On
her marriage, Mary Mivart had declared
that her home in Devonshire was deadly
dull, and had induced her indulgent hus-
band to allow her sister to come and live
with her, and Ethelwynne and her maid
had formed part of the household ever
since.
We doctors, providing We have not a
brass plate in lieu of a practice, see some
queer things, and being in the confidence
of our patients, know Of many strange and
lncomprehensible families. The one at
1l1 to-
gradually seen how young Mrs. Courtenay
had tired of her Wifely duties until by slow
degrees, she had cast off the shackles alto
gether-until she now thought more Of her
new frocks, smart suppers at the Carlton
nrst nights and Shows in MAYFAIR than
she did of the poor, suffering old man whom
she had not so long ago vowed to '1ove,
honor and obey" 1t was to be regretted,
inclination to interfere. Even Ethelwvnn
made no remark, although this sudden
breaking forth Of her sister must have
panied her considerably
When at length | shook hands with INV
patient. left him in the hands of the nurse
and descended to the drawing room
round Ethelwynn awaiting me.
sne rose and came forward, both her
SIM white hands outstretched in glad well
come wa
Short told me you were here" she ex-
claimed What long time you have been
| upstairs. Nothing serious. I hone she
| added. with touch of anxiety, I Thought,
Nothing at ALL" 1 assured her, walking
with her across to the fire and seating nv
self IN the coy corner, while she threw
herself upon a low lounge chair and piIlow
| yellow silk --'-- u
Where is Mary?" I asked.
| tonight. think
/ And leaves you at home to look after
| the tnvalid?" l remarked
| on. | don't mind in the least" she de-
| clared. laughing
And the old gentleman? What does he
| ing?" '-'7 e'eN-
| We'll. to tell the truth, Ralph, he seldom
knows. He usually believes her to be at
| should II" way
1 grunted-for I was not at all well
| pleased with her connivance at her sisters
| deceit. The sound that escaped INV Inns
/ caused her to glance across at me in quick
| surprise.
| You are displeased, dear" she said.
Tel me why What have done?''
I'm not displeased with you" declared
| only, as you know, I'm not in favor of de.
| ception, and especially so in a wife,
| she pursed her lips and I thought her
race went a trif1e paler. She was silent for
| a moment, then said:
| I don't see why we should discuss that
Ralph. Mary's actions concern neither OF
| US. 1t is not for us to prevent her AMUSING
herself. neither Is 1t our duty to create I'M
1
| 1 did not reply. but sat looking at her
drinking In her beauty in a long, full
| oraught. How can I describe her? Her
form was graceful in every line; her face
| perfect IN its contour, open, finely nodded
| and with marvellous complexion-a calm
| sweet countenance that reminded one Of
Raphaels Madonna in F1orence-indeed al
most Its counterpart. Her beauty had beer
| remarked everywhere She had sat to 3
well known R. A for his academy picture
two years before and the artist had dc.
| clared her to be one OF the most perfec,
| types Of English beauty.
Was 1t any wonder, then, that I was in
| love with her? Was 1t any wonder thai
those wonderful dark eyes held me beneath
their spell, or those dark locks that some.
times stroked off her fair, white brow
| should be to me the most beautiful in ali
| the world? Man is but mortal, and a beau.
| uful woman always enchants.
As she sat before me In her evening gown
of some fiimsy cream stuff, all frills an6
furbelows, she seemed perfect In her love.
Illness. The surroundings suited her to per.
| lection, the old C.Iippendale and the palms
| while the well-shaded electric lamp in Its
| wrought-iron stand shed mellow glow