The Morris County chronicle. [volume] (Morristown, N.J.) 1877-1915, 1910-03-08
II M
/ Il 4 VACABOND HEROINE i /
IL By ANNIE EDWARDS. NA$
3, ANNIE EDWARDS.

4
fication would young Roger have
abused the angelic, childlike simple
| ity of the woman he loved. Honor
ably, quixotically, on day when he
was certain of finding the husband
at home, he went down to Margate,
and for the last time held Mrs. Shell
1 madeane's white hand in his.
That was the parting, and for a
dozen shifting, fateful years they saw
each others faces no more.
Long letters passed between them,
with or without Mr.. Shelmadeane's
knowledge and refrain from speaking
with certainty on this point-but let
or anyone else in the world might
have read with safety. Rose, indeed,
| half thought at times that her victim
| repressed all illusions to his tortures
too successfully. Every mail, every
second mail at first; then once in
three or four months; then twice a
year. So the correspondence attend
ing Rogers ill-starred passion was
carried on. At last Mr.. Shelmadeane
died.
And Roger Temple, of course, few
to England to put in first claim for
the possession of his beloved ones
hand? No, Roger Temple did moth
ing of the kind. He was away up the
country pig-sticking when the letter
containing the news of Rosie's widow
hood reached him, after some delay.
And he loved sport passionately.
Roger neither rushed to England
nor wrote any letter designed to COM
promise his Rosie's newly gained lib
erty.
He wrote the widow as exquisitely
delicate letter of coincidence as was
ever penned; putting himself and his
own selfish hopes and fears utterly
away in the background; dwelling
wholly on her and on her loss. He
spoke tenderly, but with vagueness,
of the long years of their separation;
he spoke with greater vagueness still
of the day of their possible reunion.
OF marriage, of anything that could
by possibility be construed into hint
of marriage, he spoke not a word.
An ordinarily intelligent woman,
before she had read such a letter to
the end, would have known that her
lovers love for her was over. Ross,
guided by the irrefragable logic of a
fool, deduced from it only new
proof of her slaves devotion to her
welfare.
The next news Roger Temple got
Of Rose Shelmadeane was flaming
announcement in the Times of her
infidelity to him; by special license
an archdeacon and three or four of
the lesser clergy assisting at st.
Georges, Hanover Square.
Singular perversity of mems ma
ture! The news of this marriage cost
him not only the most poignant jeal-
ousy. but revival of his love in all
its fresh ardor. The existence of a
husband, of any husband, seemed
really some necessary, mysterious
condition of Roger Temples passion.
You should have seen the letter of
good wishes that he wrote the bride;
bitterest yelled reproach discernible
through every courteous phrase,
every pleasant little congratulatory
message to Major O'Shea! Rosie
cried herself almost plain for the day
after receiving it; hid it jealously
from Cornelius, to whose philosophic
mind the whole matter, you may be
sure, would have been one of pro-
fnundast indiffarnuoa. ord x,,ro+a
Roger a pleading, self-extenuating
reply by return mail, with three Vio-
lets-ah. did Captain Temple remem-
Der the punches of violets he used to
bring her during the happy days of
their friendship in Bloomsbury
Square?
And Captain Temple, Rose has had
his own word for it since, kissed VIC
lets and letter both, and set up the
writer on the old pedestal in his i'm
agination-I was very nearly writing
his heart-that she had ever held.
Roger himself stands, hat in hand,
all this time awaiting Belinda's re-
ception of him. We will have done,
in as few words as possible. with
retrospect of the love story. Some
slight insight into Roses domestic
grievances as Mrs. O'Shea the reader
has had already; we need not further
enlarge upon them. Cornelius spent
her money, neglected her, went to
America, where his fate awaited him.
And Rose, on her Uncle Robert S
death, found herself once more free
free and with a handsome little in
come, villa at Brompton, plate, linen
and accessories at her own disposal.
And then it was that she and her
old lover looked again upon each
| others faces, Roger had returned to
England unexpected by his friends,
his long leave having been given him
some months earlier than he antici-
| pated; and on certain May night,
Rose at that moment believing him
to be thousands of miles away in
India, knocked at the door of the
Brompton villa and inquired. in a
voice whose accents he vainly strove
to command, if Mrs. OShea was at
home.
1t was late for visit of ceremony,
between 10 and Ii o'clock, and the
starched-looking butler of occasion
who answered his knock informed
him pompously that Mrs. o'Shea was
at home, but not visible to strangers.
Mrs, O'Shea had had company to din
ner, and"