Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1908-07-21
CHAPTER vIII.-fcontInued.)


Stop vi.ere you are," he said to the
coachman, and ran back to the station,
an evil aIigury in his mind
Did you see Mrs. Greswold here just
nowf' he asked the station master, with
as natural an cir as he could command.
les, sir. She got into the up-train,
sir; the train by which you came. She
came out Of the waiting room, sir, the
minute after you left the platform You
must just lave missed her"
Yes, have Just missed her.
He walked up and down the length OF
the platform two or three times in the
thickening dusk. Yes, he had missed her.
She had left him. Such departure could
mean only severance-some deep wound,
which it might take long to heal. 1t
would all come right by and by. There
could be no such thing as parting between
man and wife who loved each other as
they loved who were incapable of false
hood or wrong
George Greswold, once at home, went to
the bedroom, with thick walls and deep
set windows, and old window seats, and
capacious recesses on each side of the
high oak chimney piece, and richly mould
ed wainscot, and massive paneled doors,
sober eighteenth century atmosphere in
which it Is privilege to exist-a spacious
old room, with old Dutch furniture, OF
the pre-Chippendale era, and early Eng
lish china, Worcester Stimulating Oriental,
Chelsea striving after Dresden: a glori-
GUS old room, solemn and mysterious as a
church in the dim light of pair of wax
candles which Louisa the maid had light
ed on the mantel piece.
There, between the candles, appeared
two letters: George Greswold, Esq, y
Miss Ransome."
The husbands letter was a thick one,
and the style of the pen1nansnip showed
how the pen had hurried along, driven By
the electric forces of excitement and de-
spair:
'My Beloved-You asked me last night
If the photograph which you showed me
had anything to do with my fainting fit.
1t had everything to do With it. That
photograph is a portrait of my unhappy
sister, my cruelty used, unacknowledged
sister; and |, who have been your wife
fourteen years, know now that our mar
riage was against the law of God and
man-that / have never been legally your
wife-that our union from the first has
been an ufholy union, and for that I'M
lawful marriage the hand of God has been
laid upon -heavily-heavily- (dlas-
tisement, and the darling of our hearts
has been taken from us.
Whom He loveth He chasteneth.' He
has oh cfanad
draw us nearer to Him. We were too
happy, it may be, in this temporal life
too much absorbed by our own happiness,
living in charmed circle of love and
gladness, till that awful chastisement
came.
There is but one course possible to
me, my dear and honored husband, and
that course lies in lifelong separation. |
am running away from my dear home
like a criminal, because | am not strong
enough to stand face to face with you
and tell you what must be. We must do
our best to live out our lives asunder,
George; we must never meet again.
Il have written to Pamela, begging
her to stay with you, to take my place
in the household, and to be to you as an
adopted daughter. l shall stay tonight
in Queen Anne's Gate with Mrs. Tomkin-
son. Please send Louisa to me to-mor-
row with luggage for a considerable alb
sence from home. She will know what to
bring. You can tell her that l am going
abroad for my health. My intention is to
go to some watering place in Germany,
where | can yegetate, away from all beat
en- tracks, and from the people who know
us. You may rely upon me to bear my
own burden, and to seek sympathy and
consolation from no earthly comforter.
DO not follow me, George should
your heart urge you to do so. Respect
my solemn resolution, the result of many
prayers.-Your ever loving,
M MILDRED"