Year: 1878

@We will have it out now, if yol
please, madam" said Mark Arkwright L
his wife, Augusta.


And they did have it ou5 with yen
geance. Both were high tempered
neither had learned self control; and
before the scene between them wa
ended, both had spoken words such a
10 two people who love each other should
ever speak. If two Indifferent persons
quarrel, it does not amount to mucf
generally; but when two who love eact
other indulge in the dangerous pasttime
it is frequently fatal to happiness.


They we're married but a year, and
the sweet glamour of romance had
hardly worn off. This was their firsI
disagreement, and it began in secret
Perhaps Mr. Arkwright had ample cause
to be angry with his wife. l am sure
that every man will think so, thoagh a
woman's judgement might be different


On the afternoon of the quarrel he had
asked his wife to drive with HIM, and
she had declined on that old plea-the
the headache. He had pitied and petted
her, had kissed her hot forehead, and
smoothed her soft blonde hair, and es
tablished her on the lounge in her room,
with a pillow under her head and a
shawl over her feet, before he went out
for his afternoon drive.


Two hours later he had occasion to
cross Hyde Park, and there, walking
slowly down one of the most secluded
paths, he saw a purple velvet skirt, be-
side black coat. Augusta had apurple
velvet skirt, and looked like an angel,
her husband had frequently told her, all
unmindful of the historical fact that
angels universally wear white, and are
supposed to be above the weakness OF
purple velvet skirts.


The airs and manners of the man
were foreign; he was handsome, and
had an uneasy appearance generally
indeed, he seemed to be constantly
looking over his shoulder.


Arkwright paused in the shadow of
clump of trees and watched the pair.
suppose watched" is the proper word,
though Arkwright prided himself on
being an extremely honorable man, and
would doubtless have knocked anybody
down who had insinuated anything to
the contrary.


There was no mistaking the grace of
the lady, the wave Of her golden hair,
the turn of her snowy neck-yes, the
very wreath of purple pansies on her
hat-all were Augusta's; and in a mo-
ment more her husband heard her voice.


Dear Arthur" she was saying, Gevery
moment for you here is fraught with
peril. Lose no time in getting out OF
London"


But, darling" returned the man,
nothing save my love for you has
brought me here; and it is hard if I
cannot have just this little comfort"


They moved away down the walk,
and Arkwright heard no more. But he
had heard quite enough. He was in
white heat of passion. He dared not
follow them and trust himself to speak.
There was murder in his heart. He
must wait little till his temper cooled.
He went to stable, hired fast horse,
and rode him till the animal was ready
to drop. Then he went home and
accused his wife. No matter in what
words-they were harsh and bitter
enough, Heaven knows and the vile
epithets he applied to her at the outset,
reused all her naughty pride and resist
ance to arms.


She heard him through. She at
tempted no defense; she made no denial
But, when he paused from sheer want
of breath, she cursed the hour in which
she had married him. Then she left the
room.


He had all night to subdue himself
and if she had come to him in the morn
ing with any reasonable explanation he
would have listened to her. But she did
not come


After while he sought her in her
room, but she was gone. She had taken
with her only bare change of raiment,
and left no message to tell whittier she
was going.


Filed with her paramount" Arkwright
said, bitterly, and then and there he
vowed to give himself no rest until he
had found and killed them both. He
tried hard to put his VOW into execution.
For three years he was wanderer-
seeking always his wife and her seducer,
and finding them never.


At last he quilted wandering and
went home. He was a very wealthy
man now. Lands that ne had owned
had increased prodigiously in value.
and there was no need of his applying
himself to business. He built man
sion, and lived alone in it, with his
books and thoughts for company. He
had q retinue of servants to anticipate
his every wish; he sat at costly table,
and drank wine as old as the hills; he
drove horses worth a fortune; he had
everything that wealth could purchase,
and yet he was never at peace, though
for the world he would not have
owned to anything of the kind.
One day he was riding in the sub
urbs of London, and came upon a lit
tie child sitting by the wayslde, sob
bing bitterly. She had her apron full
of primroses and violets, and a black
and white kitten was cuddled up in hel
arms. Moved by some impulse, which
he could not have explained, Ark


wright stopped his horse and accosted
her. She sobbed out her little story


with all a child's ingenuousness. Hel
mamma had gone somewhere 10 carr!