Democratic Sentinel, Volume 7, Number 17, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 May 1883 — MY WIFE LUCIE. [ARTICLE]

MY WIFE LUCIE.

> ■*:<« p - *>*)>' To with —slje was very pretty. I don’t know where tp show you another just like her.' She was straight and J' 01 ’* 1 # fifitoj, fWrtface, golden hair and ,M>ftJwhiter hand#. She had brown and mobile red pn » rainy day certain fine tresses of her* shining hair would escape from the refnainder and curl about her temples in little gold tendril rings Her voice was quiet and melodious, and she wore violet dresses. This is as well as I can describe her. And I am.’ afraid this is about all I knew of her when we were married. We ‘met fi’i set out Wefff. was aloft e in a strange couutay. She, also, was alone. She was a music teacher, living in a boarding house. She was gentle and sad* . d made her acquaintance. I loved her. I promised to make her happy Mdje.wjare married. My Western four..being ended, we came back East and' settled at a romantic little place called Daphne Dell. We had been married just a year when my story commences. I was young, just starting in life, and very m<#h engrossed in my business. either was I a particularly "demonstrative mam jad, as Lucie was very quiet and cOwfiOSM invftiai, we hardly appeared like nei'ly-married people. I had all confidence in my wife. It was. het neatness, frugality and good judgment .that won me, as well as her beauty. All home affairs—the employment of a servant, and bills—l left entirely to lier management. It was a great rest-to leave my counting-room abd return Lonietvard, for I- was sure to find everything right- If Lucie had any annoyances she never confessed them to me, and I never took home my bpsinesit troubl e. *A« l»said, we- had seek married a yeiy.-, when onp evening I came home as usual. t lt had been a fine day, but as I left' tire "tekrs • % gj-eat. drop of rain splashed on myeoset I had ten minutes’ .walk ‘before me, and^commenced the task rather briskly. Daphne 1)611 was within half an hour’s ride of the I had thought it better . for oiuAjiealtli to live out of town, and then ipn|, at least, if infinitely RIeiMHT Lucie, too, had seemed to like the place. She came and examined if before I made ,the .purchase—said tjjaf it®was pretty and would do very well. .. • ' Theirain came down, smartly as I reached my garden jgate. As I entered the sittiftg-JOom, I found Lucie hurriedly puttie gsway «ome papers. “The fain iff blowing up from the west. JXqu.. had, fetter shut the parlor windows, I as I went to the closet .to harig Up my coat and get my dressiilggqjv-n. Yes, Will,” she said, absently, rpmmaginir in a drawer. The storm struck sharply agttiinpte thtopane. She went Wid shut the •paTlor'windOws and* then qame l®ck to the drawer. When she looked the drawer through •he looked over the table, and finally Went tp the escretoire. * * * ' “What are you hunting for, Lucie?” saidl. . “Never mind,” she said carelessly; *!• guess..it will- come. Supper is ready Wfil.” We went out to the dining room. She poftred my tea, and Chatted of her garden ant the incidents of the day. Shed , had pßnted mignonette under the win-* dow that its fragrance might come in to her while she was sewing, she said. The Misses Granger had called, and the, man had been to graft the pear htrees. PleaS&nt ordinary chat that suggested polling of the mystery to come. ' The rain continued all night, but the morning Was clear. I felt myself a ■eery happy man as I stepped from my door into .the baldly spring air. The tulips were in blossom, and the crocuses filled the whole garden with their fragrance. I walked leisurely along the path, unlatched the gate and went out. ' ' ' - A few. steps distant, under the orchard wall, lay a sheet bf paper. It looked like something that should not have a It w|s a sheet wf unEfcwsfcO B' With arrested attention, I commenced a toarCfu! examination of the sheet. With Some difficulty I read as follows| ‘* Mx Deabest Percy : Your entreaties and my own heart wifi not longer allow xne to ref main silent. My beloved, Tam so miserable! These Clandestine letters of, yours which I . receive are ms only t*mfi>rt in the wot Id I '■feed on themS-ltve oft them. They are the only brightness which illuminates my dark •wty. ’■My fife is almost insupportable You know thatd do not love my husband, that I s»#sjft»s#aariss

tied him. Well, he is my husband, and I fay to be a good wife, but this existence is like some dreadful nightmare oream, Percy. It does not seem as if it could be me who lives and breathes and answers to my name. I am so desolate and oppressed—so despairing! I have the feeling, sometimes, that lam under a spell, that my faculties are paralyzing and that I shall lose my mind in this dull, void living. Only when your letters come I am alive. I feel that you love me, and I live and feel,and am exquisitely happy and miserable. both together. “My husband—as long as I perform my daily duties he is contented. He knows nothing of my feelings. He considers me a machine for his comfort Sometimes I loathe him. Usually lam indifferent to him. “But to-night it seems almost as if I dared escape to you. Freedom, love, happinessmay they stll be mine? Before long I will grant you an Interview. I will promise you nothing more than that now. Percy, my only love, God bless and keep you until we meet “One word more Pray be cautious. If my husband should discover this correspondence I cannot answer for the consequences. Though he has never ill-treated me, I know him to be a hard man. But let me hear from you soon. Yours ” The name was illegible, for the sheet was much discolored and blotted by the rain. But it was Lucie’s fine, delicate chirography, and I felt as if a thunderbolt had broken around me. After a moment’ blank bewilderment and strange, bewildering pain, I put the sheet in my pocket and quietly continued my way. Such a flood of emotion was stirred within that I summoned a superficial calmness from an instinct of self-preservation. . I was conscious of one predominant feeling as I went to the city—hatred against my wife for her duplicity. I must have looked wretchedly when I reached the office, but my partner was too much excited to notice it.

“Knowles,” he exclaimed, “there was a terrible fire in Philadelphia last night, and our branch house is burned to the ground. Here is a dispatch from Weiss. He wants you to come on immediately.” In two hours I was on my way to Philadelphia. There was much to do to restore our interests, and I lent myself to the work with all my energies. It was the best thing that could have happened to me. It gave me no time to think of Lucie. I wrote her once, telling her very briefly that I should not be at home for a month. It was six weeks before I again arrived at Daphne Dell. The maid was washing 'the hall. “How do you do, Dorcas ? How is Mrs. Knowles?” “Very comfortable. I think she is sleeping now, sir.” Somewhat bewildered by this reply, I went into the sitting-room. No sign of Lucie or of her work. I mounted to the chamber and quietly opened the door. , The room was darkened. Lucie was sitting up in the white bed nursing the infant. Sweetly and calmly extended her hand to me. I went to her— I put my arms about her —I kissed her. L could not help it, for I felt that the child upon her bosom was my own. The nurse came in, took the infant from her, and bade her lie down to rest. She was very weak. I' cannot express my contending feelings as I watched her fragile face upon the pillow. Slowly she gained strength. It was midsummer before she was about the house again. The little one had,ljeen prematurely born, but it throve, and the mother’s health was finally restored: I iVas rejoiced at this. I should have been perfectly happy but for the letter. The memory of it was like an ugly devil that mocked me. One - day as Lucy sat tending her child in a low chair by the window I laid the sheet before her. I had fixed my eyes upon her face, and saw a slow surprise dawn upon it “Where did you find this, Will? I lost it months ago. ” “Under the orchard wall. What does it mean, Lucie?” “Well,” with a slight blush, “you have found me out. It’s a leaf from a story I was writing.” “And Percy—” “Was the hero. The sheet must have blown out of the window that rainy night last spring. You see, dear, I don’t like to tell you, because I thought you wouldn’t fancy having a literary wife, but I had been accustomed to writing stories, sometimes, and when I knew baby was coming I thought I would earn the money myself for the embroidered flannel and cambric dresses. I knew you needed every cent in your business. I had to rewrite this letter for my romancd,” she continued, “and I didn’t get it quite the same,” examining the sheet. I looked at her sweet face for a moment, and then fell down on my knees beside her. I confessed all. Slow amazement dawned in her countenance. At length her soft eyes filled with tears. She drew my face down to her bosom where the little baby was slumbering. “Another lover?” she murmured. “Why, Will, nobody but you ever loved me in all my life!” Then, again, I knew that she was once more my Lucie!