The Plymouth tribune. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1901-1911, 1908-01-30
CHAPTER XXIII.-Continued.

morse mingled Win leT cup Oh JOY,
the very consciousness that she had
done a foolish thing, and that the
world-her little world within a radi-
US of twenty miles-was secretly
laughing at her.
do you remember the day We came
home from our honeymoon, Conrad?"
she said to her husband, as he sat by
her in the dusk one evening sad and
silent. There was no carriage to meet
us and we had to come in a fly. 1t
was an omen, was it not?"
IAN omen of what, deareSt?"
THAT all things we're moi to &c Vol
with us in our married life; thai We
we're not to be quite happy"
Have you not been happy, Pamela?
have tried honestly to do my duty to
YOU"
Il know you have, Conrad. You have
been all goodness. / have always said
so to Violet-and to every one. But l
have had my cares. / felt that | was
too old for you. That has preyed up
On my mind"
WAS that reasonable, Pamela, when
l nave never 1elt II!
Perhaps not at first; and even If you
had felt the disparity in our ages you
would have been too generous to let
me perceive the change in your feel
Ings. You will lose the Abbey House
when ! am gone, Conrad"
my love, do you think / could live
In this house without you?"
"And my income. Conrad; that dies
with me, does it not?"
Yes, love-"
THAT Is hard for you"
ST can bear that, Pamela. If l am
to bear the loss of yo,i."
Dearest love, you have always been
dis~interested. How could l ever doubt
you? Perhaps-indeed, / am sure-if
l were to ask Violet, she would give
you the fifteen hundred a year that /
was to have had after she came of
age"
Pamela, I could not accept any
favor from your daughter. You would
deeply offend me if you were to sug-
gest such a thing"
This was true. Much as he valued
money, he would rather have starved
than take sixpense from the girl who
had scorned him; the girl whose very
presence gave rise to a terrible con-
fict in his breast-passionate love,
bitterest antagonism.
"These are the few things that /
possess myself-jewels. books, furni-
ture-special gifts of dear Edwards.
Those are my own, to dispose of as /
like. / might make a will leaving
them to you, Conrad. They are trifles.
but"
They will be precious souvenirs of
our welded life," murmured the cap
tain, who was very much of Mr.. VIM
mick's opinion that portable property
of any kind was worth having.
A will was drawn up and executed
next day, in which Mrs. Carmichael
left her diamonds to her daughter,
her wardrobe to the faithful and long
suffering Pauline = Otherwise Mary
Smith-ano all the rest of Ter belong
fngs to her dearly beloved husband,
Conrad Carmichael. The captain was
a sufficient man of business to take
care that this will was properly exc
cuted-
In all this time his daily intercourse
with Violet was a source of exceeding
bitterness. She was civil and even
friendly in her manner to him-for her
mothers sake. And then, in the COM
pleteness of her union with Rorie, she
could afford to be generous and for
giving. y few weeks and the old home
would be her own-the old servants
would come back, the old pensioners
might gather again around the kitchen
door. All could be once more as it had
been in her fathers lifetime; and no
trace Of Conrad C~armichael's existence
would be left; for, alas, it was now
an acknowledged fac. that Violet's
mother was dying.
So Captain Carmichael had to sit
quietly by and see Violet and her lover
grouped by his fading wife's sofa, and
school himself as he best might to en-
dure the spectacle of their perfect hap
piness in each others love, and to
know that he-who had planned his fu-
ture days go wisely. and provided, like
the industrious ant, for the winter of
his life-had broken down in his
scheme of existence after all, had had
no more part in this house which he
had deemed his own than a traveller at
an inn.
1t was hard, and he sat beside his
dying wife, with anger and envy gnaw-
ing his heart-anger against fate, envy
of Roderick Vawdrey, who had won the
prize. IL evil wishes could have killed.
neither Violet nor her lover would
have outlived that summer. Happily
the captain was too cautious a man to
be guilty of an overact of rage or
hatred. His rancorous feelings were
decently hidden under a gentlemanly
iciness of manner, to which no one
could take objection
The fatal hour came unawares one
calm September afternoon about six
weeks after violet's return from Jer-
sey. Captain Carmichael had been
reading one of Tennyson's idyls to his
wife till she sank into a gentle slum-
Der. He left her, with Pauline seated
at work by one of the windows, and
went to his study to write some letters.
Five o'clock was the established hour
for kettle-drum, but of late the invalid
had been unable to bear even the mild
excitement of two or three visitors at
this time. Violet now attended alone
to her mothers afternoon tea, kneeling
by her side as she slipped the refresh
ing infusion. and coaxing her to eat a
wafer-like slice OF bread and butter or
a few morsels of ~spongecake.
This afternoon when Violet went
softly into the room carrying the little
japanese tray and tiny teapot, she
fouad her mother lying just as the
captain had left her an hour before.
shes been sleeping so sweetly,
miss" whispered Pauline. Il never
knaW her cloQn Gu nuiof cfpca she's