East Oregonian : E.O. (Pendleton, OR) 1888-current, 1914-06-19
The Neglected Wife

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But it grew late. No more time must
be wasted. She took down dark cos
tune, dark furs, a dark hat and veil.
Dark colored things seemed suitable for
a wife who was running away. They
undoubtedly were the proper wear.
She donned the clothes, fastening.I
them with fingers which had begun to
tremble in a most unaccountable man
ner, regarding herself in the glass
meanwhile with tragically widened blue
eyes.
Now all was done. One last look
round, and then--to make the plunge.
But as she took the last look,
sound in the hall downstairs made her
start. Had some one thrust the latch
key inf Yes, the outer door shut with
a bang, a voice called her name, quick
footsteps sounded on the stairs, and
her husband was in the room.
"We've saved her, RUBY" he said
exeitedly: "we've saved her. She II
live, thank God! And thank God the
strain is over! But we have won. He
pushed the hair off his forehead with
, a gesture Of relief.
J HWhat-what do you meant Who
will livei" the girl stammered, her
brain working desperately for a way
ont of the trap in which she found
herself. Who would have dreamt of his
returning at this hour-ths first time
5 for weeks and monthsf
"The case told You Of, child
5 Surely you we not forgotteni The case
I've been so desperately anxious about
this last month. Lordl but have had
lia time of it. Over and over again /
!. thought she was slipping through our
, fingers, and ! believe it would have
: broken my heart if she had. But she s
safe now. She was such pretty young
thing before her illness, 90 gay-she re-
minded me of you, and that was one
, reason why" he broke off and drew
back. seeing she was not listening.
"sorry, little woman" he concluded,
, ''I shouldn t talk shop, should II But
I'm bit beside myself. Forgive me.
Are you going QUIT"
+ dyes" she said, hardly knowing
b what she did say. "1'm going to the
= CGffords ~ But the lie hurt her, for
+ she was not bad woman-only vain
Q and foolish one.
:. His face fell. "Must you goi ]
e hoped you would be at home. I've got
an evening off. COlquhoun is back
: again; going to look after his own pa
d tients and mine, too, for once. 1t s
e such a long time since we've had an
!, evening together. Can't you staya'
c he asked, wistfully.
, But his words only helped her to
Z. rally resentment to her aid.
c "No," she answered bitterly. "l
r can t stay. I'm going out. 1t is not
t nv fault that we've not had evenings
e together. Day after day / spend mine
l. alone, and you never even ask how
/ spend them. And when you do come in
/! all you think Of is your patients.
!. don i count. I've had more than
!. enough of I'll" She turned away and
r began moving blindly about the room
}. again.
: He looked at her dc .edly for few
- moments. Then-'tYou are unjust!
r he said; turned slowly from her, and
Y went downstairs.
!. Five minutes later she also stole
g down. handbag in hand, and out into
d the raw murk of the evening. The sit
I ting room door was ajar as she passed
and she saw him sittirg there alone
=, His face seemed to have grown Older
and sterner than it used to be.
I A taxi passed her as she stood hest
a ltating on the pavement outside. Should
A lshe take iti No! Taxicabs carried one
. Iso-fast. All! hansom-that would
n be better!
t As the cab jingled away with hel
@ she took a letter from her bosom, long
r ing hungrily for the familiar thrill with
/. which letters in this handwriting hac
n never failed to supply her hitherto.
G Their writer was master Of his craft
n His charmingly artificial prose ant
d gracefully fantastic poetry had made
h him something of celebrity in his owl
|. section of the literary world.
r. II - Il.