Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1903-01-03

with an old-fashioaed 5mfortable house
in one Of the quiet villages or smaller
had been just as enthusiastic about it as
lad been. She hated tssvn Iife knew:
and even IL the wffe oesa country doctor
is allowed few DIVERSIONS she can always
form select little teas fd-tennis circle of
friends. f.
The fashion nowaaayf is for girls of
middle class to regatd the prospects Of be-
coming country dsesoI,s wife with con-
term it: and declare that to live in the
country and drive III a Igoverness cart is
| synonymous. with being buried. Many girls
marry just as servants change their places
| in order ito better sthemselves''-and alas!
| that parents encourage this latter-day
| craze for the artiiciality and glitter of
| town life that so often fascinates and spoils
| a bride ere the honeymoon is over. The
| majority Of girls today are not content
| to marry the hard-working professional
| man whose lot Is cast in the country. but
| prefer to marry man in town. SO that
| they may partake of the pleasures OF thea
| taurants and the thousand and one at
| fractions provided for the reveler in Lon
| don. They have obtained their knowledge
| Of life from the society papers, and they
see no reason why they should not taste
| of those pleasures enjoyed by their wealth.
| Ter sisters, whose goings and comings are
| so carefully chronicled. The majority of
girls have a desire to shine beyond their
| own sphere; and the attempt alas, is ac-
| countable for very many of the unhappy
marriages. This may sound prosy know
| but the reader will forgive when he re-
| fleets upon the cases In point which arise
| to his memory-caSes of personal friends,
| perhaps even of relations, to whom mar
riage was a failure owing to the uncon-
| trollable desire on the part of the woman
to assume a position to which neither birth
nor wealth entitled her.
To the general rule, however, my love
was an exception. Times without number
had she declared her anxiety to settle in the
country, for being country born and bred
she was an excellent horsewoman, and in
every essential a thorough English girl Of
the grass country, fond Of run with either
fox or otter hounds: therefore, in suburban
life at Kew she had been entirely out of her
element.
In that letter wrote, composing it slowly
and carefully-for like most medical men l
am bad hand at literary composition-I
sought her forgiveness and asked for an
immediate interview The wisdom of being
so precipitous never Occurred to me. 1 only
know that In those night hours over my
pipe 1 resolved to forget once and for all
that letter 1 had discovered among the
dead mans effects and determined that
while 1 sought reconciliation with Ethel
wynn l would keep an open and watchful
eye upon Mary. and her fellow conspirator
The suggestion that Ethelwynn, believing
herself forsaken, had accepted the declara-
tons of man she considered more worthy
than myself dashed me to a frenzy of mad
ness. He should never have her, whoever
he might be. She had been mine, and
should remain so. come what might.
added a postscript. asking her to wire me
permission to travel down to Hereford to
see her; then sealing up the letter l went
out along the Marylebone road and posted
it in the pillar box, which 1 knew vas
cleared at o'clock in the morning.
1t was then about 3 o'clock, calm, out
rather overcast. The Marylebone road had
at last become hushed in silence. Wagons
and cabs had both ceased, and save for a
crtif 70 TNn1i hare oy,6 Lang
thoroughfare SO full of traffic by day was
utterly deserted. l retraced my steps slow
ly toward the corner of Harley street, and
was about to open the door Of the house
wherein 1 had "diggfngs,' when I heard a,
light hurried footstep behind me, and turn
ing, confronted the figure Of a slim woman
Of middle height. wearing golf cape. the
hood of which had been thrown over her
head in lieu Of hat.g y
I Excuse me, sir" she cried in a breath
less voice, but are You Doctor Boyd?,' ~s
I replied that such4waS my name.
-a"oh. I'm in such Distress she said. in
the tone Of one whose heart is full of an
guish. my poor father.a 'rN ~'
rs your father in?' INQUIRED turning
was standing on the step and she was on
the pavement, having evidently approach
ed from the opposite direction. She stood
with her back to the street lamp, SO could
discern nothing Of her features Only her
voice told me that sha.lWas young
"Oh. he's very H. she replied anxiously.
He was taken queer at II o'clock, but he
wouldn't hear Of me coming to you. He's
one Of those men who don't like doctors''
-"Ah!' I remarked. There are many Of
his sort about But they are compelled to
seek our aid now and then. Well, what can
l DO for you? suppose you want me to
see him-eh? M '"'''
Yes sir. If you'd be so kind. Il know it's
! awfully late, but as you've been out per-
haps you wouldn't mind running round to
our house. It's quite close, and I'll take
Shn nIa rx,;t1
drawl and dropped her "h's'' in the manner
of the true London-bred girl
"I'll come If you'll wait a minute" said
and then leaving her outside 1 entered the
house and obtained my thermometer and
stethoscope.
When I rejoined her and closed the door
I made some Inquiries about the sufferers
symptoms, but the description she gave me
was utterly vague and contradictory
that 1 could make nothing out of it. Her
muddled idea Of his Illness 1 put down to
her fear and anxiety for her parents well
fare.
She had no mother. she told me. And her
rather had. of late, given way just little
to drink. He used" the Haycock, in Edg-
ware road: and she feared that he had
fallen among a hard-drinking set He was
pianoforte maker and had been employed
at Brinsmeads for eighteen years. Since
her mother died. six years ago, however,
he had never been the same.
1T was then that he took to drink" 7
hazarded.
Yes" she responded. HE was devoted
to her. They never had wry word"
What has he been complaining of? Pains
In the head-Or what?'
oh. he's seemed thoroughly out of
Sorts, she answered after some slight
hesitation, which struck me as peculiar.
She was greatly agitated regarding his ILL
ness, yet she could not describe one single
symptom clearly. The only direct state
ment she made was that her father had
certainly not been drinking on the previous
night, for he had been at home ever since
he came home from the works, as usual, at
o'clock.
AS she led me along the Marylebone road,
In the same direction as that I had Just
traversed-which somewhat astonished me
l glanced surreptitiously at her, just at
the moment when we were approaching a
street lamp, and saw to my surprise that
she was a sad-faced girl, whose features
were familiar. 1 recognized her in mo-
ment as the girl who had been my fellow
passenger from Brighton on that Sunday
night. Her hair. however. was disheveled,
as though she had turned out from her bed
In too great alarm to think Of tidying it
l was rather surprised, but did not claim
acquaintance, with her. She led me past
Madame Tussaud' s. around Baker street
station and then into the maze Of those
small cross streets thatdlie between Upper