New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1903-05-24


pocketbook, which he had kept IL his posses
son ever since their marriage.
Il was looking to-day at one Of your old
photographs, he said; 1T was this that made
me realize how much thinner you have become
since your arrival in this country He looked
Tor minute at photograph in his hand, and
then passed it to his wife.
That was the old Mary" he said tenderly.
She looked with amazenent at the picture of
another woman. II was the picture Of girl
some twenty years of age, with large, quiet
eyes and beautifully gentle mouth The hair
was worn as he had described. and there
likeness between herself and this woman.
This is not l." she said, looking UP.
YOU have forsotten TorseIf! he PoS5i0e ''
But. really. this is some one else"
My dear Mary, you are ILL., What can posi-
/ hiy have occurred to make you doubtful of your
! own IDENTITY Look al the back of the photo
graph: YOU have written your own name there"
She turned the picture over. and there the
! back written across the photographers usual
/ advertisement, was the name Of Mary Town
send.
| She looked up: her husband was regarding her
with smile of quiet triumph.
! ''Well2'' he asked.
! This is all wrong she said. There is some
mistake. My fathers name Chambers, My
/ own name is Eliza"
Without answering. but continuing TO smile
/ toerantly, he drew from his pocketbook fold
ed document. and passed il to his wife.
She opened ii and saw that it was certifi-
| cate of marriage. Her heart began to beat
| vousIy. and tears rushed to her eyes. The docu-
! ment witnessed to q marriage between Thomas
| Fulham of Cedar City Nevada and Mary
! Jefferson Townsend, Of Salem Ore.-four years
! before her
What does it mean she cried. with sob,
! 1t should convince YOU he said. tenderly,
| that your name Is Mary. that this picture is
your photograph, and that the signature at the
/ back is your own"
NO. no." she cried, starting up. 1t is a lie!
! l say il is lie
/ AT that moment she told me, the poor thing
/ felt the full horror of her loneliness. Without
| a relative in the world. alone in strange COun
try she found herself in the grip Of a who
persisted in attaching to her an identity not her
gNK her
! ian and PROTECTOR in The world, Her brain was
! possessed with horror. and she could do nothing
but cry out, 1t is a liza lier
/ He looked at her calmly she said this then
dropped it. and with quiet precision folded it up
/ and replaced it with the photograph in his peck
etbook She stood there, mesmerzed while he
/ slowly closed the book and pulled the elastic
strap about its covers The room was growing
/ dark and she remembered that the street lamp
/ outside their window was suddenly lighted as
! he placed the book in his pocketboOk and looked
up at her. She could see his black eyes shin
! ing uDcn her as he stood there on the other side
/ OF the frepace-huge and tyrannic-the flame
Of the street lamp dancing against the window
! Of the room.
He came to her rested his fingers upon her
shoulders and regarded her with fixed inten-
sity, his face close to her own It was for many
minutes, ii seemed 10 her, that he stood
: there in the gloom fixing her with this long and
! searching gaze; then, very gently, and Very
slowly, he put his arms about her, gathered her
! up TO his breast, and, as II she had been SICK
! child. carried her from the little parlor up to
/ their bedroom on the floor above. She COM
/ pletelv under the spell of his gaze, and could
say nothing, and could make no protest against
| his action.
/ reached the bedroom. You must go to bed, and
rest there until you quite restored He
/ bent down and took the shoes from her feet
| Il am not ill., she answered Il am, indeed,
| quite well Only-only why do you say l am
somebody else?'
| He kissed her, and she told me that never be
fore had he been delciOusly tender to her
| His very voice was a caresS
| Beloved" he said you are i'll, though you
| do not know livery i'll. l will watch over you
and nurse you till you are restored to me again,
/ for 1 could not support life II you were taken
| from me"
| He assisted her TO undress, and put her TO bed
! Then he drew a chair to her side, and, sitting
/ there holding her hand spoke as follows:
| .TT once had terrible dream, dearest; i
| dreamed that you were dead; that people came
| coffin so that / could not see your beautiful
ewes nor fOndle your dear hands which they
| had folded upon your breast. 1t was a dream
/ from hell. and when l woke up ana 1ound you
c-iu alive | could scarce believe that II was
/ +rue so strong was the hold Of that bad dream
| 11non nv mind. And now that you are III l am
! fulI of terrible fear that my dream may come
| true You must live. Mary-you must i've 10
comfort me for without you the devils VIII Goad
/ me 10 madness and self-destruclloh. floIhISe
/ me that you viii try TO i've. 49, ,
The vearning in the last sentence 1Iled Int
/ y7,-stjfied girl wife, and she kissed the hSihds
fonIling her own promising that she Would Set
/ Lreu and that she would never leave him.
Then he sat there and talked OF past III
mitch she had never shared. He recalled anec-
dotes of her home, her father, and her OLD uhGle
{ 1-raaVH a. he *