Democratic Sentinel, Volume 2, Number 14, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 May 1878 — LOST LILY. [ARTICLE]

LOST LILY.

“Wo, will have it out, uow, if you please, madam !” said Mark Arkwright so his wife, Augusta. And they did have it out witli a vengeance, Both were high-tempered; neither had learned self-control; and, before the scene between them was ended, both had spoken words such as no two people who love each other should ever speak. If two indifferent persons quarrel, it does not amount to much generally; but when two who love each other indulge in tho dangerous pastime it is frequently fatal to happiness. They had been married but a year, and the sweet glamour of romance bad hardly worn off. This was their first disagreement, and it begun in a secret. Perhaps Mr. Arkwright had ample cause to be angry with his wife. I am sure that every man will think so, though a woman’s judgment might be different. On tho as ternoon of the quarrel he had asked his wife to drivo with him, aud she had declined on that old plea—the headache. He had pitied and petted her, aud kissed her hot forehead, and smoothed her soft blonde hair, and established her on the lounge in her room, with a pillow under her head and a shawl over her feet, before lie went out for bis afternoon drive. Two hours later he had occasion to cross Ilyde Park, and there, walking slowly down one of the most secluded paths, be saw a purple-velvet skirt, beside a black coat. Augubta had a pur-ple-velvet skirt, and looked like an angel,' lier 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 aud manner of the man were foreign; he was handsome and had an uneasy appearance generally—indeed, ho seemed to be constantly looking over his shoulder.

Arkwi ight paused in the shadow of a clump of trees and watched the pair. I suppose “ watched ” is the proper word, though Arkwright prided himself on being an extremely honorable man, and would doubtless have knocked anybody down wlio 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 wren h of purplo pansies on her hat—nil were Augusta’s; and in a moment more her husband hoard her voice. “Dear Arthur,” she was saying, “ every moment for you here is fraught with peril. Lose no time in getting out of London.” “Jbit, darling,” returned the man, “nothing save my love for you has brought me here; and it is hard if I cannot Lave just this little comfort.” They moved away down the wa’k, and Arkwright heard co more. But he had heard qixito enough. He was in a white heat of passion. He dared not follow them and trust himself to speak. There was murder in his heart. He must wait a little till his temper cooled. He went to a stable, hired a 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 roused all her haughty pride and resistance to arms. She heard him through. She attempted no defense; she made no denial; but, when he paused from sneer 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 morning with any reasonable explanation he would have listened to her. But she did not come. After a while he sought her in her room; but she was gone. She had taken with her only a bare change of raiment, and left no message to tell whither she was going.

“Fled with her paramour!” 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 a wanderer—seeking always his wife aDd her seducer, and finding them never. At last he quitted wandering and went home. He was a very wealthy man now. Lands that he had owned had increased prodigiously in value, and there was no need of his applying .himself to business. He built a mansion, and lived alone in it, with his books and thoughts for company. He had a retinue of servants to anticipate his every wish; he sat at a costly table, and drank wine as old as the hills; ho drove horses worth a fortune; he had everything that wealth could purchase, and yet ho 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 suburbs of London, and came upon a little child pitting by the wayside, sobbing bitterly. She had her apron full of primroses and violets, and a black-and-white kitten was cuddled up in her arms. Moved by some impulse which he could not have explained, Arkwright stopped his horse and accosted her. She sobbed out her little story with all a child’s ingenuousness. Her mamma had gone somewhere to carry work, and she and Spot had gone to walk by themselves, and they had walked, oh, so far ! and now they were lost. Her name was Lily, and the kitten’s name was Spottie, and that was all she could tell to prove her identity. Surprised at himself for doing so, Arkwright took her into the carriage—kitten and all—and carried her to his own home. He advertised her, and for the first two or three days made souie effort to djsoov-

er her relatives. After that, he did not want to discover them. Into hie cold, closed heart Lily had crept, and made her home there; and the desolate, cynical man found himself loving her as a little before he had not dreamed of loving anything again. After the lapse of a fortnight, the idea of Lily’s leaving him became absolutely unbearable. He got so nervons that he started at every sound of the bell—fearful that some one was coming to claim her. She and the kitten had it all their own way in Arkwright House. The strayed in the library, and upset the books and papers to their mutual satisfaction. Lily sat on Arkwright’s knee a great deal of the time, amusing herself with braiding and curling his hair into the most grotesque shapes; and Spot, with feline audacity, mounted on bis shoulder, and nibbled the top of his pen, or thrust her inquisitive little nose into his face, all unrebuked. But one day, just as Arkwright was beginning to feel sure of the child, a lady came for her. This lady was tall and slight, and wore black, and had her face cove red by a thick veil. Something in her low, sweet voice stirred the innermost depths of Mark Arkwright’s nature, but a fierce pang shot through him when he saw with what eagerness Lily flew towards her. “ Mamma ! darling mamma 1” she cried, covering her with kisses. “Iso dad 00 turn ! Now so and I, and Spot, and papa are all togedder 1” Arkwright reddened. He had been weak enough to teach this child to call him papa. He wondered what the lady thought of his presumption; but she seemed unwilling to linger. She thanked him for the care he had given Lily—offered to pay him for his trouble from a very slender-looking purse; and, being indignantly refused, she turned to go. Lily was in her arms. Arkwright took a step toward them, and Lily threw an arm around his neck, drawing him up close, and face to face with the lady. Through the thick folds of the veil their eyes met. He started back, pallid and trembling. “Augusta !” he faltered, in a choked voice. “ Mr. Arkwright!” She was tho calmer of the two. A woman always is in cases of emergency. All the old love, fierce and ungovernable, rose up within him. “This child! Whose is it?” he asked. “Mine and yours," she answered, quietly. “ She was born four months after our separation. I wish you good morning.” He caught her arm in an iron grasp. “ Stop ! My child ! Mine !” he cried, dreaming, as if it were an effort for him to realize it. “ No, notyonrsnow,” she said, steadily. “ You forfeited tho light to claim her when you drove her mother from her home. Mark, at this time—the last time I shall see you in this world—l will tell you the trutn. You were jealous of my brother !” ‘ ‘ Your brother ! I never knew you had one 1” “That was where I erred. Arthur was two years my junior,and a cruel misfortune placed him in a position where he was suspected of forgery. He was unable to prove his innocence, and he lied from mistaken justice. I was too proud to tell you that I was the sister of one whom the world looked upon as a felon. In that I sinned. I had a secret from you, and upon that rock our happiness was wrecked. Thank Heaven! Arthur is free now—the guilty party has confessed, and my brother is a man once more.” Arkwright snatched her to his breast, and would not let her go. She tried her best to escape, but he held her fast. I suppose he won her pardon some way, for she remained at Arkwright House, and Lily aud Spot remained likewise. Go there to-day, and you will see tho happiest family this side of paradise.