Democratic Sentinel, Volume 1, Number 38, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 November 1877 — BROTHER PHIL. [ARTICLE]

BROTHER PHIL.

Edith Forrest lifted a pair of pretty . blue eyes to her husband’s face—pretty, post eyes, with wistfulness all among their velvety shadows. “It is so lonesome of an evening, Harry ! Please stay at home to-night or take me with you for a change, dear.” Mr. Forrest smiled in a very superior sort of way—a sort of patronizing, indulgent way, as though it was the height of absurd womanish folly for Edith to have made the remark. “ That is nonsense, Edith. You know perfectly well how ridiculously impossible it is for me to be either always at home, or take you out somewhere. You must remember that because a man is married he does not expect never to be anywhere but where his wife is, if she is

the sweetest, prettiest little girl in the world!” He bent forward to kiss her, and Edith smiled—a suspiciously tear-flavored smile it was, however. “ But I do get so tired of staying so much by myself, Harry. lam almest a stranger in London, and I am sure there are only two ladies in the house whom I know, and don’t like to be always running to their rooms. Harry —really I did not think you would get tired of my company so—so soon. It hasn’t been three months since we were—married— and-”

And little Mrs. Forrest’s sobs and tears overcame her entirely, and Harry’s face grew vexed and stem. “You are romancing, Edith. You know perfectly well I have never thought of such a ridiculous thing, and Ido not want to see such childishness on your part.” And, to further enforce his assumption of marital dignity, Mr. Forrest walked out and shut the door very emphatically. Then, of course, Edith’s tears came in good earnest. “ It’s too bad, too bad! Harry is getting tired of my society, I know he is, and I wish—l wish—l had never married and left home, where everything was so gay and pleasant, and there were never long, lonely evenings. Oh—dear 1 ” It wasn’t a very good thing for Edith to be thinking—this regret for a life, which, undeniably pleasant though it was, had never been so beautified and glorified until Harry’s love came to her. But it was pitiably true that her husband’s neglect of her of late had more than once made such thoughts, more than once had brought hot tears of wounded pain and regret to the blue eyes that other young men than Harry Forrest had thought worth their while to have smile in theirs ; and Edith was certainly very lonely. The great, fashionable boarding-house to which Harry had brought her, and installed her in one of its most elegant rooms, was not such a home as she had been accustomed to, where everything was gay cheer and girlish frolic. The boarders were, of course, utter strangers, and haughtily exclusive. Edith was reserved and shrinking, and, with the exception of Mrs. Thistle, a gentle little widow, who was almost as shy as Edith herself, and Mrs. Worthington, who was jolly and gay as she could be, little Mrs. Forrest had not an acquaintance in all the city. “It’s too bad,” she sobbed, bitterly, as she lay on the little crimson silk lounge, with her face all tear-flushed, and her rose-bud mouth quivering. “I can almost see them at home now—Sue, and Jennie, end Sil, and the parlor lighted up, and perhaps Howard singing one of his lovely tenor solos to Sue’s accompaniment; and Frank Morrison will come in, and they’ll have a delicious waltz, and then Phil will speak of me—dear, darling old Phil! He always thought more of me than any one else ever did—even Harry Forrest! I wish I hadn’t ever married him, and then ”

There was a little expression of discontent and indignation coming on her lips memories that would not bear comparison with her present gilded loneliness called them up, and it wasn’t a good sight to see on a pretty married woman’s face. For an hour after Harry had gone out Edith lay on the couch, all sorts of thoughts running riot in her brain, until they were dissipated sharply by a rap on her door, and a card that sent all expression out of her face and eyes except surprise, that quickly changed into an excitement of delight. “Tell the gentleman I will be down in a moment,” she said to the servant. Then she flew to the dressing-mirror, and saw that she was in a presentable condition, and then went down stairs, with a smile and three unspoken words on her lips : “ Dear old Phil 1” * * * * * Three weeks later Mr. Forrest came in somewhat unexpectedly—just in time to see Edith standing by the window kissing her hands to a gentleman driving by in a carriage—a handsome, dash-ing-looking fellow, with bold black eyes and drooping mustache—just in time to see the sparkle in his wife’s eyes and the heightened color in her cheeks. “ Well, who is he ?” He asked the question so suddenly that Edith gave a little cry of surprise. “ Oh, Harry, I didn’t know you were here ! How you startled me !” “ Doubtless. But that doesn’t explain why you were kissing your hand to—whom ?” The blush on her cheeks deepened until her face was scarlet. “He is—a—friend—acquaintance of mine,” she stammered. He looked angrily at her—angrily, with a faint sense of pain mingling with the anger. “An acquaintance! Since when, please? Edith, do you know you are doing a terribly risky thing in answering any salutes from bold, fast men who, in driving by, may have been fascinated by your pretty face ? Edith, I won’t ask any more questions, but I insist upon you obeying me in keeping away from those windows.” And for the first time in their lives they sat down to their dinner with a cloud between them.

“And I don’t care,” Edith said to herself. “If Phil is kinder to me than Harry is, I’ll like him best, that’s all. He wouldn’t leave mo alone as Harry does, and this very night we are going to drive to the park if the moon is bright. ” And when Mr. Forrest came in that evening, about 10 o’clock, he was again fortunately in time to catch the blackeyed, black mustached fellow going down the front steps to the chaise waiting at the door, and just in time to find Edith folding away her jacket. But he said nothing. His whole soul was beginning to be on fire with fury and jealousy, and he found it remarkably easy to stay at home, when Edith was so winningly sweet and charming that he wondered whether or not she meant it, or was only trying to cheat him into a disbelief of her recklessness. But Edith's curious conduct—times when she was extravagantly gay, times when she was dull, pale and sad—worried him. She never asked him to stay at home in the evenings now—of course she preferred to have him out of the way, so that she could have her own good time with her—“friend,” Harry said to himself, ironically, for in his very lieart of hearts he could not bring himself to say “lover.” His faith in his wife was too strong to admit of a doubt of aught beyond indiscretion, and yet he was agonizingly jealous. Then one evening the climax came, when Harry came home to dinner half an hour earlier, and found Edith reading a note, which she tore into fragments the instant he crossed the door-sill—tore and threw it in the fire with flushed face and startled action. “Mrs. Worthington wants me to goto her room to-night. I suppose you will be going out, Harry ?” He knew she was telling what was not so. “ Yes, I am going out to the club.” In his heart he hated himself for the falsehood he told, for he. knew he had made up his mind to watch his wife well that night, and see if his jealousy was warranted or not. Edith’s cheeks glowed and her eyes sparkled, and she seemed in a state of delicious excitement at dinner. Then she dressed in a becoming

toilette of black silk, with filmy laces at wrists and throat, and rich jewelry—rather elaborate for a tete-a-tete with Mrs. Worthington, Harry thought, as he smiled bitterly behind his newspaper. He purposely prolonged his stay half an hour beyond his usual time, and then was vexed that Edith should show no signs of perturbation. “ She’s already so versed in deceit that she can control her fear and impatience.” Finally he put on his overcoat and gloves, and went out, to take up his position on the opposite side of the street, where he commanded the doors and windows; and ten minutes afterward a tall, black-mustached gentleman drove uj) and rang the bell, and in a moment more his wife—his sweet, beloved Edith, whom he never loved so well as at this moment of her falsity—lds wife came down, and the two were driven away. It was the work of a moment to hail a passing cab, and the chase began, and ended at the door of Exeter Hall, and Harry bought his ticket and took a seat as near as he could get to Edith and her —her— ‘ ‘ friend. ”

It was a pale, haggard face that watched them all that evening, and a pair of eyes that were pitifully pained and indignant and passionful as he noted how perfectly happy the two were—how Edith, whose sweet reserve and shyness had been one of her greatest charms to him—how Edith was so free in her manner to him, and how admirably the gentleman returned her pretty little familiarities. It was an hour of torture to him. He sat there, remembering all the times he had neglected Edith—how she had coaxingly asked him to “stay at home” or ‘ ‘ take her. ” He realized, as he had never done before, what a sudden and great change it had been to her to leave her home where there was such a large family of brothers and sisters, and, consequently, a great deal of young company. He began to appreciate how careless he had been of the happiness entrusted to his keeping. He sat there, repentant, indignant, jealous, remorseful, ready to fly at that handsome, dashing fellow who assumed such an air of proprietorship over his foolish, silly little wife—the lovely little girl, who, not having her husband’s society, had sought companionship elsewhere. He never heard a chord of the divine melodies—he never heeded the storms of applause. All he heard, all he saw was Edith’s occasional low laugh, her beautiful flushed face as she turned her profile toward him.

Then the performance was over. He followed them closely as he dared, until he saw them take their carriage, and then the second chase began, that ended—at the door of their house, and then, from inside his own cab he saw the black moustache sweep across Edith’s mouth—and he heard her low, sweet good-night. “And Phil, don’t forget to drive to the park to-morrow—at 5 to-morrow.” “Phil, Phil!” “It has come to the permitted familiarity of names, has it? ” And Harry thought, as he dismissed his cab, and ran up stairs, two steps at a time, that if ever a man had just cause to shoot another, he had. Edith stood before her dressing-case, slowly drawing off her gloves, when he dashed in, pale, wrathful. ‘ ‘ What does this mean ? Where have you been ? ” H he thought to confront her in a falsehood he was mistaken. She flushed crimson, but answered promptly : “ I have been to Exeter Hall. Have I committed an unpardonable sin ?” “ You have done the next thing to it. Who is that—that man with whom you dared to go ? Do you know you have run the risk of losing your character—you, a married woman, going to a place of public entertainment with a man who is almost a stranger to you? Edith! have you any idea of what you have done ?” She turned her face, pale enough now, to him.

“ Harry, have you any idea of what you have done ? Night after night I have stayed here by myself, until I wonder I did not run away and go home. I begged you to stay, or let me go sometimes—not always, and you laughed at me. And, then, when I found some one who paid me the attention you should have done, you talk to me this way ! I will tell you, honestly, the gentleman who took me in is very, very deart© me. I love him ! There ! And if you won’t be good to me, he will 1” Forrest stood dumbfounded. “ Edith, do you know what you say? Oh, Edith, wife ! are you mad that you dare speak such awful words ? You love him ! ” He staggered to a chair, pale as death. This, then, was the end of all. For a moment Edith kept her ground; then her lips began to quiver, and her eyes filled with tears; then she went up to him and knelt beside him. “ Harry, Harry darling, I do love him, but not as Ido you ! He is my brother Phil, Harry—the one you never saw. He came here several weeks ago, and—we planned it all to make you love me more, dear. ” And the lesson had its effect, for Harry Forrest remembers what agony of mind he suffered when he feared the worst. And he realizes that it might all have been as he feared.