Elkhart Observer, August 27, 1873

Elkhart Observer

August 27, 1873

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Issue date: Wednesday, August 27, 1873

Pages available: 4

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Publication name: Elkhart Observer

Location: Elkhart, Indiana

Pages available: 705

Years available: 1872 - 1875

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Elkhart Observer (Newspaper) - August 27, 1873, Elkhart, Indiana THE 1 O " ' ' VOLUME II. ELKHART, INDIANA, WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 27, 1873.The Elkhart Observer, A WEJEKIiY jrOBBNAI. OF Local, Political, Commercial, Agricultural, Sclen title, and Literarj- Intelligence. Is published erery Wednesday in the Bafeinent of the Post Office Building, Jackson street. TEEMS OF STJBSCRIPTlOIi. One year, in advance.........................S'fW Six months, in advance................. Three months. In advance............... HATES OF ADVERTISING According to time and space. Special rates for lone time and large sized advertisements. Aa-vertlsiSu Sserted in reading matter at usual rales. 3IOLLOY & BRUSH, Propr's. .. 1.00 .50 BUSINESS CARDS. A. I/. FISHEB, M. HOMEOPATHIST. Office comer Main Pigeon streets, over Guipe'S shoe store. and Residence on Pigeon street, Baptist church. two doors cast ofE »k. 13. A. bukivs. CLECTIC PHYSICIAN, BRISTOL, IND. P. S. DOJOtiE, ATTORNEY at Law, Notarj- Public and Real Estate Agent. Office up stairs. No. 99 Main St., Elkhart, fnd., with O. II. Main, Esq. B. jp. SMITH, ATTORNEY AT LAW. Office, second floor of Hascall's Block, comer of Main and Market streets, Goshen, Indiana. SHUJSY 4; VAN FI.EEX, TTORNEYS AT LAW, Elkhart, Ind. Refer-L ence—First National Bank, Elknart. GEO W. BEST, Attorney at law and Real Estate Agent. Office next door South of Opera House, Elkhart, Ind. Will give prompt attention to all business entrusted to his care. PASSEJVGEB DINING HAI<Ii, And Railroad Hotel, at the Depot, Elkhart, Ind. J. D. Tyler, Proprietor. Travelers and sojourners accommodated in Bret-class style and at reasonable rates. I.AKE SHOKE HOUSE, aw. NICHOLS, located at Main Street cross-. Ine, corner of Main and Railroad streets, near the Depot. This is a brick Hotel and has been recently fitted up in first-class style, and new fumitnre throughout. Board only $1-50 Pcr day. Pleasant and convenient rooms, and especial provisions made to accommodate weekly or transient boarders. ClilFXON HOUSE, H CLARK, Proprietor, corner of Main and . Jackson Streets, Elkhart, Ind. Everything kept In order to make guests comfortahio and at ease, and w-lll be kept as a first class hotel, with satisfactory and reasonable charges. NEtSON SOY. Livery and feed stable, pigoon st., east of Main, Elkhart, Ind. Horses and Carriages always in roadiness. Hack ready on call. 3-ly EliKHABT PAPER COMPANY, MANTJFACTTJRE RS of Printing and Wrapping Papers, Elkhart, Ind. Orders solicited. J. R. jSbabdsley, Pres. | Jons Cook, Treas. B. L. Davenpobt, Sec. jr. S. DODGE, OT. D. OFFICE, No. D6 Main Street, up stnlrs. Calls piomptly attended to at all hours. FIBST NATIONAIi BANK, QF Elkhart, comer of Main and Jackson Sts., Clifton House Block. Directors. John Cook, Cashier. THE ELIAS. HOWESES^wnsrcH- ayc^omiíTE! ma. 1867. 1867. Is file .'SoBt Durable ITIachine inanufactnred. Has less wearing; points than any other. Has complete cbntrol over both threads; others have not. It sews both Ugh g and heavy goods without change of tension. Has an automatic- self-regulatinET take-up. Sews equally Avell with any kind of thread. Tucks any fabric without injury or pucker. Compactness, simplicity, ease of operation and management characterize this machine. ¡¡^¡""The most reasonable arrangements can be made by applying to the Agent, R. K. FSI.X.OWS, i9tí 115 MAIN STREET. Silas Baldwin. L. Davektokt, Fiïank Jaurett. )Si Dr. J. N. IIANNAFOKD, PHYSICIAN AND SURttiON, oflicc eastHidc of Main St., between Pigeon and High Sts. Residence south east corner of Fourth and High Streets. 5tf EliKHABT HOUSE, WICKWIRE, Proprietor. Corner of Jackson and Second Streets, near the Post-office, Elkhart, Ind. Our motto is to accommo-tiate at reasonable rat£s. KUHNS' EUBOPEAN IIOTEIL, WJ. KUIINS, Proprietor, Nos. 145, H7 & l in • Dearborn Street, adjacent to the new Tribune Buikliner, and a lew doors from McA'ickerV Theatre, Cbicaco. J. W. Bve. l(m,.rvu ciias. A. Kuiiss, ( S. II. CVMlimS, D. D. s., H ■J fiooms—Up Stairs, Masonic Block, ilain Street, Nitrons Oxide Gas, For the Painless Extraction of Teeth. Upper Sets of the finest quality of Artificial Teetli in serted at from $12 to $30. Cash iwid ior Gold and Silver Plate. E. A. SHERWOOD. Dealer in and Bookselier&Stationer Offers to the people ofElkhart and vicinity alarge and well selected stock of Miscellaneous Books, JBlaìik Books^ School Books, Fine Writing Papers, Initial Papers, Inks, Pens and Pencils, Picture and Picture Frames, Pocket BooJca, Photograph Albuins, tèe. AJXJX^ thh:LATEST NOVELTIES, in OLOTHINa, Genti ìmiàìM Goois, &c, II..VTS, 33TC., JiT 117 Main-St. AND Furniture Dealers, Keep constantly on hand THE LATEST STYLES'OF WOOD COFFINS AND CASKETS. (Metallic Bui ial Cases and Caskets Furnished on Short Notice.) A laree slock of Wall Paper! Eor the Spring trade now ready in all qnantities.Brown, Buff, White Blank, Satin Bronze Silver & Gold Paper. Having added largely to my stock in this line it is now very complete, and I will make it to the interest of all in want of paper to call and examine my stock before buying.Shrouds of all kinds, for Ladies Gents, always on hand. Everything in the Undertakinj The firm 1 f line furnished at the lowest liring proeis. lave had made for them Ä1 YOU Want Dodgers, Want Sale Bills, Want Bill Heads, Want Statements, Want Note Heads, Want Programmes, Want Letter Heads, Want a Good Paper, Want Legal Blanks, Want Visiting Cards, Want Business Cards, Want Wedding Cards, Want Ball Invitations, CALL AT THEOBSERVER Newspaper JLTfX» ,Jobllfficejtinder i*opt A MAGWIFICEltfT HSARSJS I In addition they keep on hind a Mamiiiotli Stock of Goods! Consisting of Chamber Sets, Parlor Sets, Lounges, Mattresses, Spring'Bed Bottoms, Etc.NOTICE ! To the Ladies o!' Elkhart and vicinity. MfíS. AND MISS PRAT HER Hnveestfl !)ll.shed a shop at JVo. X8 8 3XA.r3V STTfcOEJST. 1st door north of Wal ley's Furniture store, for the mannfact ire of all kinds of IKj^X ■woiòs:. Such as Switches, Points, Curls, Frizes, Watch Chyards, Necklaces, bracelets. Andllatr Jewelry c ( all descriptions. Togcthck with PUiN DRESS & CLOAK MAKING. sndtTnder Clothing, Gontg' Shirt«, Piinti,Vests, Ac., made to order FriiieSreMoiialile. - Bmeinber the place. No. 188 aialB istxeet« £llsliBrt, -MuH,HAIR DPSING! Philip) ChrístmanIOS is^j^isr so?. ELKHART. Manhood .* How Lost, How Rest(fred. Jnst pnblished, a new edition of Dr. Culverweli's Oelebnited Es-nay on the radical cure (without medicine) of Spermatorrhoea or Seminal Weakness, Involuntary Somlnta Loiscs, Impo-tency, Mental and Physical Incapacity, Impediments to marriage, etc.; also Consnroption, Bp-llepsy and Fits, indnced by self-lndnlgence or sexnal extravagance. ^~Pr,'ce in a scaled envelops only six cents. The celebrated author. In this admirable essay, clearly demnstrates from a thirty years' snccess-ful practice, that the alarming conseqaences of self-abuse may be radically cured without the dangerous use of Internal medicine or the application of the knife, pointing ont a mode of cnre at once simple, certain and effectaal, by means of which every sufferer, no matter what his condition may be,^may cnre himself cheaply, privately and raat- ""l^hrhia lecturc should be in the hands of every youth and every man In the land. Sent under seal. In a plain envelope, to any address, on receipt of eU cents, or two poststamps.' . Addreu the Publishers, , ^ CHAS. i. C, KLINK A CO., itr Bdw«T,New York, Po8^0ffiee Box, 4389,Great Reduction In Prices for the next Two Months ATN. FREEDMAN'S,108 Main Street. Kxtra Bargains ix LINEN GOODS, TABLE CLOTHS, HANDKERCHIEFS NAPKINS, &c ALSO,1,000 Pieces Trimmings 3,500 AXD YARDS of HAMBURG EDGE and Home Made Embroidery, JiVST BE SOLD BEFOBK THAT TlilB. Come Earljr And Seeure Bargrains ! I^^Lalies' Grass Cloths and Linex Suits AT COST. Seamless Kid Gloves at SI,SO per pair. BARGAINS IN DRESS GOODS! BARGAINS IN BLACK ALPACAS! BARGAINS IN LINEN and GRASS CLOTHS BARGAINS IN HOSIERY and GLOVES! BARGAINS IN BARGAINS IN BiVRGAINS IN COTTON ADES! MEN'S SHOES! MEN'S BOOTS! BARGAINS IN MEN'S SLIPPERS! BxiRGAINS IN CHILDREN'S HOSE! BARGAINS IN CHILDREN'S SLIPPERS! BARGAINS IN EVERYTHING! atNEiOGK'SElkhart Book Bindery, AT THE OFFICE OF THEHERALD of TRUTH ELKHART, IND. We take pleasure to infcrm our friends and the public in general, that we have «stablished a BOOK BINDERY In connection with our Printing Office, and are now prepared to do all kinds of Binding, such as Books, Pamphlets, Macazlnes, Music, &c., promptly, and on reasonable terms. JOHN P. FUNK & BRO.M. TRUBY, Dealer inWatches, Clocks, ANI)JEWELRV ! EJews Agent^ Bookseller ANI> ST ATIONZSR ! Pigeon Street, Near Main }E51hIiax>ty s Xi^d. AGEXT FOB FLORJSXCIÎ ^ O EC IIÑF "-B STHE TEUBY LIBRARY Is a Bne coUecUon of Books, consisting of History Paetry, Botnance. Sabtcrlpilon prie« ¡fen Cents p« week, or per year. THE HÜNGEY HEART. [oOUTIKUED FlIOM LAST ^VEEK.] "If any trouble springs from this, you must pardon me," she more than once -whispered. "I cannot help it. I have never, never, been loved before"; and oh, I have been so hungry, so famished for it,-1 had begun to^ despair of it. Yes, when I first met you, I had quite despaired of there ever being any love in the world for me. I could not help listening to you: I could not help taking all your words and looks into my craving heart; and now I am yours—forgive me!' Stranger as she was in Northport everybody trusted the frank sweet ness of her face, and sought no other cause for admiring her and wishing her happiness. The whole village came to the church to witness the marriage and to dote upon a bridal beauty which lay far rriore in expres sion than in form or feature. A few words of description—inadequate notes to represent the precious gold of reality—must be given to one who could change the stare of curi osity to a beaming glance of sympa thy. Small, slender, fragile; neither blonde nor brunette; a clear skin with a hectic flush; light, chestnut hair, glossy arid curling; eyes of vi olet blue, large, humid and lustrous, which at the first glance seemed black because of the darkness, length and closeness of the lashes, and capable of expressing an earn nestness and sweetness which- no writer or artist might hope to de pict; a manner which in solitude might be languid, but which the slightest touch of interest kindled into animation; in fine, white teeth that sparkled with gayety, anc glances that flashed happiness. She was married without brida costume, and there was no wedding journey. Leighton was poor, anc must attend to his business; and his wife wanted nothing from him which he could not spare—^nothing but his love. Impossible to paint her pathetic gratitude for this aflFection; the spiritual;—it was not passionate —fondness which she bore him; the softness of her ej-es as she gazed for minutes together into his; the sudden, tren^ulous outreachings of her hands toward him, as she just touches him with her finger and draws back, then leans forwarc and lies in his arms, uttering a little cry of happiness. Here was a heart that must long have hungered for affection—a heart unspeakably thankful and joyous at obtaining it. " I have been smiling all day," she sometimes said to him. " People have asked me why I looked so gay, and what I had heard that was funny. It is just because I am entirely happy, and because the feeling is still a surprise. Shall I ever get over it? Am I silly? No!" Her gladness of heart seemed to make her angelic. She rejoiced in every joy around her, and grieved for every sorrow. She visited the poor of her husbands patients, watched with them when there was need, made little collections for their relief, chatted away their forebod-ngs, half cured them vrith her smile. There was something catahing, comforting, uplifting in the spectacle of that overbrimming content. The well were as susceptible to its influence as the sick. Once, half a dozen men and twice as many boys were seen engaged in recovering her veil out of a pond into which the wind had blown it; and when it was landed to her by a shy youth on the end of a twenty-four foot pole, all felt repaid for their labors by the childlike burst of laughter with which she received it. Now and then, however, shadows fell across the sunshine. In those dark moments she frequently reverted to the unhappy couple of whom she had told Leighton when he first spoke to her of marriage. She was possessed to describe the man—his dull, filmy, unsympathetic black eyes, his methodical life and hard rationality, ^is want of sentiment and tenderness. 'Why do you talk of that person so much?" Leighton implored. " You seem to be charging me with lis cruslty. I am not Uke him." . The tearfe filled her eyes as she started toward him saying," No, you are not like him. Even if you should become like him, I couldn't reproach ou. I should merely die." " But you know him so well?"he added enquiringly. "You seem to fear him. Has he any power over you?" . For a moment she was so sombre that he half feared lest her mind was unstrung on this one subject, f No, " she at last said. " His jower is gone—nearly gone. Oh, f I could only forget! " After another pause, during which she seemed to be ner\'ing herself to a confession, she threw herself into her husband's arms and whispered, "He is my—uncle." He was puzzled by the contrast jetween the violence of her emotions and the unimportance of this avowal; but as he at least saw that the subject wa» painful to her, and as he was all confidence and gentleness, he put no more inquiries. " Forget it all," he murmered caressing her; and with a deep sigh, the sigh of tired childhood, she answered " Yes. " The long summer days, laden with happiness for these two, sailed onward to their sunset havens. After a time, as August drew near its perfumed death, Alice begun to talk of a journey which she should be obliged to make to New York soon. She OTiiii go, she said to Leighton— "t was a matter of property, of business: she would tell him all about it some day. But. she' would return soon; that is, she would return as soon.as possible: she would let him inow how soon by letter. When Be proposed to accompany ler she would not hear of it. To merely go on with her, she represented, would bo a useless expense, and to stay as long as she might need to stay ypould injure his practice. In these days her gayety seemed forced, and more than once le found her weeping; yet.ao innocent -was he, so simple in his views of life, so candid in soul, that be suspected no' hidden evil: hi^^ftttyi- undisguised buted her agitation entirely to grief at the prospect of separation. His own annoj'ance in view of the journey centered. in the fact that his -wife would be absent from him, and that he could not incessantly surround her with his care. Wheth er she would be happy, whether she would be treated with consideration, whether she would be safe from accidents and alarms, whether her delicate health would not suffer, were the questions that troubled him. He had the masculino instinct of protection: he was as virile as he was gentle and affectionate.- The parting, was more painful to him than he had expected, because to her it was such an and terrible agony. "You will not forget me? " she pleaded. "You will never, never hate me? You will always love me? You are the only person who has ever made the world pleasant tome; and you have made it so pleasant! so different from what it was! a new earth! a star! I will come back as soon as this business will let me. Some day I will come back, never to go away. Oh, will not that be delightful?" " Her extreme distress, her terror lest she might not return, her forebodings lest he should some day cease to love her, impressed him for a moment—only for a truant moment—with doubts as to a mystery. As he left the railway station, full of gratitude for the last glance of her loving eyes, he asked himself once or twice'" What is it? " We will follow her. She is omi-nousFy sad duringthe lonely journey: she is almost stern by the time she she arrives in New York. In the place of the summer's sweetness and gayety, there is a wintry and almost icy expression in her face, as if she were about to encounter trials to which she had long been accustomed, and which she had learned to bear with hardness if not with resentment. No one meets her at the railway station, no one at the door of the sombre house where her carriage stops—no one until she has passed up stairs into a darkling parlor. There she is received by the man -whom she has so often described to Leighton—a man of thin, erect, form a high and narrow forehead, regular and imperturbable features, fixed and filmy black eyes, a mechanical carriage, an icy demeanor. At sight of her he slightly bowed —then he advanced slowly to her and took her hand: he seemed to be hesitating whether he should give her any further welcome. "You need not kiss me," she said, her eyes fixed on the floor. "You do not wish to do it. " He sighed, as if he too were un-happy, or at least weary; but he drew his hand away and resumed his walk up and down the room. " So you chose to pass your summer in a village? " he presently said, in the tone of a man who has ceased to rule, but not ceased to criticise. " I hope you liked it." " I told you in my letters that I liked it, " she replied in an expressionless monotone. " And I told you iu my letters that I did not like it. It would have been more decent in you to have staid in Portland among the people whom I had requested to take care of you. However, you are accustomed to have your own way. I can only observe that when a woman will have her own way, she ought to Day her own way." A flush, perhaps of shame, per-laps of irritation, crossed her hitherto pale face, but slie made no res-jonse to the scoff, and continued" to ook at the floor. After a few seconds, during which neither of them broke the silence, she seemed to understand that the reproof-was ended, and she quietly quitted the room. The man pushed the door to vio-ently with his foot, and said in an accent of angry scorn, isichat is now called a wife. " Well we have at last reached the mystery: we have found that" it was a crime. In the working of social laws there occur countless cases of individual hardship. The institution of marriage is as beneficent as the element of fire; yet, like that, it sometimes tortures when it should only lave camforted. The sufferer, if a woman, usually }ears her smart tamely^—with more or less domestic fretting and private weeping indeed, but without violent effort to escape from her bed of em-jers. Divorce is public, ugly, brutal: her sensibility revolts from it. Moreover, mere unhappiness, mere disappointment of the affections, does not establish a claim for legal separation. Finally there is women's difficulty of self-maintenance —the fact that her labor will not in general give her both comfort and oosition. What then? Unloved, unable to ove, yet with an intense desire for aftectiori, and an immense capacity for granting it, her-heart is tempted to wander beyond the circle of her duty. A flattering shape approaches her dungeon-walls: a voice calls to her to come forth and be glad, if only for a moment; there seems to 3e a chance of winning the adoration which has been her whole life's desire; there is an opportunity to aurst from the charnel-house in which she is dying, out into the jlessed life-giving sunshine. Shall she break down the gate on which is written Legality ? rantable chances of felicity. Only, in general, she is so far conscious of guilt, or at least so far fearful of punishment, as to carry on her struggle in the darkness. Few, however, maddened by suffering, openly defy the serried phalanx of the world. Still fewer venture the additional risk of deyng it under the forms of a legality' which they have ventured to violate. Why is it that so few women, even of a low and reckless class, have been bigamists? It is because the feminine soul has a profound respect, a little less than religious veneration, ior the institution of marrage; because it instinctively recoils from trampling upon the form which consecrates love; because in very truth it regards the nuptial bond as a sacrament. I believe that the average woman would turn away from bigamy -with a deeper shudder than from any other stain of conjugal infidelity. But there are exceptions to all modes of feeling and of reasoning. Here is Alice Duvernois: she is a woman of good position, of intellectual quickness, of unusual sensitiveness of spirit; yet she has thought out this woeful question differently from the great majority of her sex. To her, thirsty for sympathy and love, bound to a man who gives her neither, grown feverish and delirious with the torment of an empty heart, it has seemed that the sanctity of a second marriage will somehow cover the violation of a first. This aberration we can only explain on the ground that she was one of those natures—matured in some respects, but strangely childlike in others— whom most of us love to stigmatize as unpractical, and who never become quite accustomed to this Avorld'and its rules. On the very evening of her arrival home she put to her husband a question of infantile and almost incredible simplicity. It was o»e of many observations which made him tell her from time to time that she was a fool. "What do they do," she asked, "to women who marry two husbands?" "They put them in jail," was his cool reply. "I think it is brutal," she broke out indignantly, as if the iron gates were already closing upon her, and she. -were contesting tlie justice of the punishment. "You are a pretty simpleton, to set up your opinion against that of all civilized soci'fety!" was the response of incarnate Reason. From that moment she trembled at her danger, and quivered under the remorse which terror brings. At times she thought of flying, of abandoning ihe husband who did not love her for the one who did; but she" was afraid of being pursued, afraid of discover3'. The knowledge that society had already passed judgment upon her made her see herself in the new light of a criminal, friendless, hunted and doomed, The penalty of her illegal grasp after happiness was already tracking her like a bloodhound. Yet when she further learned that her second marriage was not binding because of the first, her heart rose in mutiny. Faithful to the only love that there had been for her in the world, she repeated to herself, a hundred times a day, "It is binding —it isr She was in dark insurrection against her kind: at times she was on the point of bursting out into open defiance. She stared at Duvernois, crazy, to tell him, "1 am wedded to another." He noticed the wild expression, the longing, wide-open eyes, the parted and eager lips, the trembling chin. At last he said, with a brutality which had become customary with him, "What are you putting on airs for? I suppose you are imagining yourself the heroine of a Evidently the temptation is mighty. Laden with a forsaken, wounded and perhaps angry heas-t, she is so easily led into the belief that her exceptional suffering gives her a right to exceptional action! She "eels herself justified in setting aside aw,v?hen law, falsifying its purpose, violating its solemn pledge, brings her misery instead of happiness. She will not, or Canncit,'reflect that special hardships must occur under all law; that it is the duty of the individual to bear such chance griefs without insurrection against the public conscience; that entire freedom of private judgement would dissolve society. Too dftettr-^though far less often than man does the like—she makes of her sorrow an armor of excuse, and enters into a contest for «nwar> romance. With a glare of pain and scorn she walked away from him in silence. It is shocking indeed to be fastened speechless upon a rack, and to be charged by' uncomprehending souls with counterfeiting emotion.— She was so constituted that she could not help laying up this speech of her husband's against him as one of many stolid misdoings which justified both contempt and aversion. In fact, his inability or unwillingness to comprehend her had always been, in her searching and sensitive eyes, his chief crime. To be understood, to be accepted at her full worth, was one of the most urgent demands of her nature. The life of this young woman, not only within but without, was strange indeed. She fulfilled that problem of Hawthorn's—an individual bearing one character, living one life in one place, and a totally different one in another place—upon one spot of earth angelic, «nd upon another vile. Strange still, her harsher qualities appeared where her manner of life was lawful, and her finer ones where it was condemriable. At Northport she had been like sunlight to her intimates and like a -ministering seraph to the poor. In New York she avoided society; she had no tenderness for misery.' The explanation seetns to be that love was her only motive of feeling and action. Not a creature of reason, not a creature of conscience "My wife is a fool. She is not worth the money that 1 now spend upon hpr, much less the reflection and time that you call upon me to spend." Two such as Alice and Duvernois could not live together in jieace. Notwithstanding her old droad of was him, and notwithstiinding the new alarm with which she filled by the discovery that sh 3 ^ra.s a felon, she could not disseml>le her feelings when she looked him in the face. Sometimes she was silently contemptuous—sometimes(wlien her nerves were shaken) openly liostile. Rational, impassive, vigorous as he was, she made him unhappy. The letters of Leighton wltc at once a joy and à sorrow. She awaited them impatiently; she went every day to the delivery post-oflice whither she had directed 1 hem to be sent; she took them from the hands of the indifferent clerk with a suffocating beating of the lieart. Alone, she devoured them, kissed them passionately a hundred times, sat down in loving haste to answer them. But than came the n(;ccssity of excusing her long absenc<î, of inventing some lie for the man she worshiped, of deterring him from coming to see her. During that woful winter of terror, of aversion, of vain Jonging, her health failed rapidly. A relentless cough pursued her, the beautiful flame in her cheek burned freely, and a burst of blood from the lungs warned her that her , future was not to be counted b y years. She cared little: her sola desire was to last till summer. She merely asked to end her hopelesis life in loving arms—to end it befori^ those arms should recoil from her in horror. No discovery. Her husl and was too indifferent to watch her closely, or even to suspect her. As early in June as might be she obtained permission to go to the seasiide, and with an eagerness which would have found the hurricane slow she flew to Northport. Leighton received her wi Ji a joy which at first blinded him to her enfeebled health. "Oh, ho-w could you sta>' so long awayfromme?" were his first words. "Uh, my love, my darling wife! thank you for coming back to me." But after a few moments, when the first flush and sparkle cf excitement had died out of lier ciieeksand eyes, he asked eagerly, '-What is the matter with vouV Have you been sick?" "I am all well again, now tliat I see you," she answered, pu-:ting out hor arms to him with that little start of love and joy whicli had so often charmed him. It absolutely seemed thut in the presence of the object of her affection this erring woman became innocent. Her smile was as simple and pure as that of cliildhood: ler violet CN'CS reminded one of a heaven without a cloud. It must have been that, away from punishment and from terror, she did not feel herself to be guilty. But the day of reckoning was approaching. She had scarc ely begun to regain an appearance of health under the stimulous of country air and renewed happiness, when a disquieting letter arrived from Duvernois. In a tone which -ivas more than usually authoritative, he directed her to meet him at Portland, to go to Nahant and Newport;. Did he suspect something? She would have given years of life to be able to show the letter to Leighton and ask his counsel. But here her punishment began to double upon her: the being whom she most loved was precisely the on a to whom she must not expose this trouble— the one from whom she was most anxious to conceal it. In secret, and with unconfided tears, she wrote a reply, alleging ( what ,was true ) that. her feeble From llic oiclu.id .'-he could faintly siiO the mad, and sl.e now.discovered Leighton rotuiniiig briskly Her first thought toward the house. ii she was only a creature of emotion, an exaggerated woman. Unfortunately, her husband, methodical in life, judicial in mind, contemptuous of sentiment, was an exaggerated man. Here was a beating heart united to a skeleton. The resulti^f this unfortnnate combination had been a wreck of happinG.ss and a defiance of law. Duvernois had not a friend intelligent enough to say to him, " Yoii love your wife : if you cannot love her, yon must with merciful df-ceptjon make her believe .that you do. You must show her when you return from business that you have thought of hor: jyou must buy a bo-quet, a toy, a trifle, to carry home to her. If you do these things,- you: will be rewarded; if not you will be punished;" - But had there been such a friend, Duvernois -would not have com-pre-henâed him. He -wtiiild' have replied^ ot at least he -would îhaye,.tho3iîght, health demanded quiet, and praying that she might be spared the proposed journey. For three days she feverishly expected an answer, knowing the while that she oug.ht to go to Portland to meet Duvernois, should he chance to come, yet unable to tear herself away from Leighton, even for twenty-four hours. In the afternoon of tho third day she made one of her frequent visits of charity. At the house of a poor and bedridden widow she met, as she had hoped to meet, her husba nd. When they left the place he took her into his gig and carried her home. It was a delicious day o f mid June.; the sun was settin^in clouds of crimson and gold; the earth was in its freshest summer glory. In the beauty of the scene, and in tae companionship of the heart which was all hers, she forgot, or seem ed to forget her troubles. One hand rested on Leighton's arm; her face; was lifted steadily to his, like a flower- to the light; her violet eyes were dewy and ■ sparkling with liappiness.— There were little clutches of her fingers on his wrist whenever he turn'd to look at her. There vrere spasms of joy in her slender and somewhat wasted frame as she leaned from time to time against his shoulder. Arrived at the house, ¡she was loth to have him leave her for even the time required to take his horse to the stable. "Come soon," she .said—"come a.s quick as you can. I shall be at the window. Look up when you reach the gate. Look at the window all the way from the gate to the door." ' In an instant, not even taking off her bonnet, she was sit ting by the window waiting for him to appear. A man approached, walking behind the hedge of lilacs which bordered the yard, and halted at the gate with an air of hesitation. She turned ghastly white; retribution was upon her. It was Duvernois. With that swift instinct of escape which sensitive and timorous creatures possess, she glidiid out of the room, through the upper hall, down a back stairway, into the garden behind the house, and so on to an orchard i already obscurt! in the twilight. Here she paused : in her breathless flight, and burst intp one of her frequent coughs, which she vainly attempted to snc other. "I was already dying." she groan'd. "•Afa, why.could he: not have gfvfln me time to finish?'? was, "He will look up at the window, and he will not see me!" Her next was, " They wiil meet, and all will be known!"' Under the sting of this last reflection she again ran onward until her breath failed. She had no idea where she should go; her only purpose was to fly from immediate exposure and scorn^—to fly both from the man she detested and the man she loved. Her speed was quickened to the extent of her strength by the consideration that she was already missed, and would soon be pursued. " Oh, don't let them come!—don't let them find me!" she prayed to some invisible power, she could not have said what. Mainly intent as she was upon mere present escape from reproachful eyes, she at times thought of lurking in the woods or in some neighboring village until Duvernois should disappear and leave her free to return to Leighton. But always the reflection came up, " Now he knows I hayé deceived him; now he will despise me and hate me, and refuse to see me; now I can never go back." In such stresses of extreme panic and anguish an adult is simply a child, with the same overweight of emotions and the same imperfections of reason. During the moments when slie was certain that Leighton would not forgive her, Alice made 'wild clutches at tho hope that Duvernois might. There were glimpses of the earlier days of her married life; cheering phantoms of the days when she believed that she loved and was beloved— phantoms which swore by altar and bridal veils to secure her pardon. She imagined Duvernois overtaking her with the words, " Alice, I forgive your madness; do j^ou also forgive the coldness which drove you to it?" She imagined herself springing to him, reaching out her hands for reconciliation, putting up her mouth for a kiss, and sobbing, " Ah why were you not always so?" Then of a sudden she scorned this fancy, trampled it under her wear}', aching feet, and abhorred herself for being faithless to Leighton. At last she readied a sandy, lonely coast-road, a mile from the village, with a leaden, pulseless, corpselike sea on the loft, and on the right a long stretch of black, funeral marshes. Seating herself on a ruinous little bridge of un-painted and worm-eaten timbers, she looked down into a narrow, ish rivulet, of the color of ink, oozed noislessl^from the morass into the ocean. Her strength was gone; for the present fartluM flight was impossible, unless she fled from earth—fled into the unknown. This thought had indeed followed her from the house; at first it had been vague, almost unnoticed, like the whisper of someone far behind; then it had become clearerj as if the persuading fiend went faster than she thought the darkness, and were overtaking her. Now it was urgent, and would not be hushed, and demanded consideration. " If you should die," it muttered, "then you will escape; moreover, those who now abhor you and scorn you, will pity you, and pity for the dead is almost respect, almost love." "Oh, how can a ruined woman defend herself but by dying?" She wept as she gazed with a shudder into the black rivulet. Then she thought that the water seemed foul; then her body would become tangled in slimy reeds and floating things; that when they found her she would be horrible to look upon. But even in this there was penance, a meriting of forgiveness, a claim for pity. Slowly, inch by inch, like one who proposes a step which cannot be re-traaed, she crept under the railing of the bridge, seated herself on the edge of the shaky planking and continued to gaze into the inky waters. A quarter of an hour later, when the clergyman of Northport passed by that spot, returning from a visit to a dying saint of kis flock, nd one was there. We must revert to the two husbands. Duvernois had long wondered what could keep his wife in a sequestered hamlet, and immediately on.her refusal to join him in a summer tour he had resolved to look into her manner of life. . At the village hotel he had learned that a lady named Duvernois had arrived in the place during the previous summer^ and that she had been publicly married to a Doctor Leighton. He did not divulge his name—he did not so much as'divulge his emotions: he listened to this story calmly, his eyes fixed on vacancy. At the door of her boarding-house ic asked for Mrs. Duvernois, and then corrected himself, sayiiig, " I mean Mrs. Leighton." He must have had singular emotions at the moment, yet the serr vant-girl noticed nothing singular in his demeanior. Mrs. Leighton could not be found. None of tho family had seen her enter or go out; it was not kriSwn ' that she had been in the, house for an hour. , , " But there comes Doctor Leighton," remarked the girl as the visitor turned to leave. ' Even in this frightful conjuncture the characteristic coolness of Duvernois did not forsa,k6 ter a moment's hesitation and a quick glance at his rival, he said, "I do not knovy him; I will' call: ¿gain." On the graveled walk -wliich led from the yard gate to the dWr^tèp the t^o inen met-and pasr edrivithr ¿ut a word—the face of the'one, as. inexpressive of- the, strangeness, and, horror of the.encounter aa the mind of the other was .unconsciqijB of . them. . . ' Leighton immediately. missed Alice. In a quarter of an hour ho. became, anxious; in an hour lie -was in furious «earoh. of her. ,, .. SomeivH»feiatir„wJi^n Pwçerncgs COSCÔ^.TOiaiAiî.'^AÏÎBTH.PAGS.; ^ v- v . ;