Democratic Sentinel, Volume 12, Number 5, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 February 1888 — MENTAL CONFESSIONS. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

MENTAL CONFESSIONS.

BY FRANK H. STAUFFER.

HE 9 o’clock morning train from the city left Lisle Denham a t the pretty lifc--11 e way-sta-tion known as Waldermere. With a fling of his hand to several gentlemen of his acquaintance,

~~ A 1 he took the meadow-path which led to his beautiful country home. When he came in sight of the.house, the central figure in the stretches of lawn, orchard and garden, a look of intense satisfaction, born of the sense of proprietorship, filled his face. He was a handsome man—tall, erect in figure and graceful in bearing, and just in the prime of his manhood. He had a few faults, and the leading one among them was his excessive selfishness. In that he was not exacting, perhaps, and never invaded the rights of others; still, in his attempt to get out of life all the zest that was in it, he lived very mnch for himself. His farm was a large and valuable one. It was well tilled and well kept, and there was not a dollar due upon it. His yacht was at anchor in the bay; his stable was filled with thoroughbred horses; his bank account was plethoric; his credit was unlimited. He had no children, but a lovely, quiet, intelligent, self-possessed wife, of whom any man would have been proud, was mistress in his lordly home. A woman with a sweet, placid face, with thoughtful blue eyes, with a low, musical voice, with timid, caressing manners, with a head to plan, yet with a heart that might be broken. He had arrived at nine o’clock in the morning, whereas she did not expect him until nine in the evening. His

early return would be a pleasant surprise to her, to be sure, and with that thought uppermost in his mind, he -stepped softly upon the veranda and looked in at the open window.Suddenlv a Ijaleful light came into ihis black eyes; a deadly pallor swept his face; his lips parted with a gasp; his right hand fumbled nervously for a pistol which he carried in his hip pocket. Within the drawing-room he saw a man kissing his wife—apd that man was Bichard Brandon, his life-long, most-trusted friend, the discovery of whose perfidy almost dumfounded him. In a second more a great sense of relief came to him, for he saw that his wife was not passive under the caress. She tore herself from the man’s grasp, and dealt him a smart blow in the face. “Coward!” she cried. “Ingrate, perfidious friend!” She pressed one hand against her heart, her breath coming and going, her face flushed with anger, her blue -eyes aglow with indignation. Never had she looked- so lovely in the eyes of her husband, or in the eyes of the iriend who had wronged him. “Mr. Brandon, this ib an outrage for which you can never atone,” she said, in repressed vehemence. “Were Ito tell my husband * “Oh, but you never will,” the man interrupted, recovering from the surprise caused by her fierce resentment. “He would call me to account. It would result in his death or mine, or of both of us.” The possibility of such a result brought a dusky pallor to the young wife’s face. “And believing that you presumed,” she said, with ineffable scorn. Her assailant grew red in the face, for he was not utterly devoid of principle. “Mrs. Denflam,” he slowly replied, “I might offer much in extenuation of my conduct. I might insist that it admits of an interpretation other than the one you choose to place upon it.” “It was an inexcusable insult, sir!” ;she cried. “But not premeditated, ” he replied. '.&*<s■?i 4 iif.

“I have been strangely drawn toward you, I pitied your lonely life. I felt that you were neglected. I saw that you sighed for genial companionship. To be sure, you did not make me your confidant, yet I divined that my society was agreeable to you. Tour husband does not appreciate you He is wrapped up in his yacht, his fast horses, his giddy round of pleasure. He is so utterly selfish that ” “Stop just there!” she imperiously ordered, with a quick, angry gesture. “Do you think so meanly of me as to suppose that I would allow you to traduce my husband, even though every word were true ?” “Mrs. Denham, I know that I have offended you,* pleaded he. “I forgot myself. Your lonely life, the indifference of your husband, and your supreme loveliness ” “Mr. Brandon,” she sternly interrupted, “you are continuing the insult. I misunderstood you a little—you misunderstood me a great deal more. I once respected you a good deal—now I do not respect you at aIL Nay, I despise you. I am shocked, but hold myself blameless, for I never by thought, word or act led you to suppose that you could humilate me in this way. I never complained to you about my husband ; I never admitted to myself that I had reason to complain. If my life has been a lonely one I wasn’t aware of it. It certainly has not been a loveless one. You say that you forgot yourself. A gentleman never forgets himself. You shall never forget yourself again in my presence. You must leave this house at once, never to return to it.” “Mrs. Denham ”

“You twitted me, sir, because I had no protector. It seems that I need to be protected from you. Go, traitorous friend!” Although his lips parted and there was a movement of the muscles of his throat, he did not say a word. He stood abashed, disconcerted, baffled, self-condemned. He struggled for a moment with his passion, then bowed low, seized his hat and walked out of the house. Mrs. Denham sank into the nearest chair and went off into a hysterical spell of weeping. She keenly felt her humiliation; she censured herself because she had been too unsuspectful; she mentally admitted that her life had at times seemed desperately lonely to her. Lisle Denham was deeply stirred by what he had heard and witnessed. The strongest emotions were those resulting from self-crimination and admiration for the loyalty exhibited by his wife. “I have been a fool, ” he muttered to himself; “a selfish, unappreciative wretch. Yes, Maggie indeed has been a neglected wife. It needed something like this to show me how remiss I have been.”

He waited until her grief had largely spent itself; then he noiselessly approached her. He stood directly over her. Her face was buried in her arms, and her frame shook with sobs that she could not entirely repress. “Maggie, what is the matter?” he softly, tenderly asked. She sprang quickly to her feet, her heart almost standing still, the delight in her eyes blending with consternation. “Oh, Lisle!” she cried. “1 am so glad you have come.” She flung herself into his arms and kissed him wildly, her whole form quivering with excitement. He returned her caresses; he drew her clpser to him; he imprisoned her hands; he spoke in the softest accents of love. “What happened, dear?” he asked. “I—have—been frightened,” she stammered.” “By some tramp, no doubt,” Lisle said. “Poor child! Yon have been left too mucb alone.,” There was such hearty sympathy in his tone that she lifted her sweet, tearstained face from his shoulder, and looked at him with an intense yearning in her eyes. “Lisle, ” she cried, in a broken, wailing voice, “you love me, don’t you, Lisle?” “Love you, darling!” be exclaimed. “Why, what do you mean, child ? Do

I love you? No man could love his wife with more devofc on. I may not be very demonstrative, but it is there. ” “Oh, thanks, Lisle,” she cried in ecstasy, Snd clasping her hands. “ Oh, I bless you for saying that. Don’t fancy for a moment that I doubted you. Only Well, don’t mind me; Ive been frightened, and —am—dreadfully tired. lam a silly, hysterical little thing. ” “On the contrary, darling, you are a brave, sensible, uncomplaining, truehearted woman,” he said, with grave earnestness, his dark eyes shining into heie.

She laughed in a pleased, glad way, and seemed very much like herself again. In the afternoon she handed him a letter. “It was left here by a messenger,” she said. “It is lrom Mr. Gillingham,” Lisle replied, as he opened and glanced at the letter. “He offers me ten thousand dollars for my yacht. He can have it.” “Lisle, will you buy another?” she asked, the faintest apprehension apparent in her voice. “That would be a folly,” he said. “I am tired of yachting. It takes me away from home too much.” , A pleased light filled her eyes, and a soft smile came to her lips. The next morning he called to her to come to the front door. There she saw the prettiest horse her eyes had ever rested upon. “Maggie, I bought him for you, - ’ Lisle said. “He’s safe, docile, intelligent. I have other horses, but lam not sure that I would want you to ride any of them. You used to ride, before we were married, and you rode well, too. Now fix up some kind of a skirt, and we’ll take a dash across the country after breakfast.” “Lisle,” she said, with a sudden swelling in her throat, “you are too kind.” Bhe supplemented her words with a glance of love that made his pulses throb. The ride was an enjoyable occasion to both of them. He was polite, chatty, attentive, solicitous, and she let him know that she appreciated it by her responsive manner—that natural blending of the freedom of a girl with the selfconsciousness of a woman that had ever pleased him. “I am just beginning to live,” washer mental comment.

“It is nice to be at home more frequently,” was his mental admission. His desire to remain more at home increased day by day. He became less selfish; he comprehended that she had needs as well as himself. He studied to please tier; he grew more steady in his habit?, and had larger views of life, its aims, its privileges, its duties. He saw that a change had taken place in her, and yet he was scarcely able to divine the character of it. He knew that she had always loved him, but he had never before had even an approximate idea of its depth, its fervor, its stability. One charming evening toward the close of summer they stood alone upon the veranda. She nestled closer to him, her head dropping upon his shoulder. “Oh, I have been so happy ail these months, ” she said, a low, sweet tremor running along her words; “so happy, Lisle, I would not have thought it possible. But I have been wanting to make a confession to you, Lisle, and why should I not make it now ? It has been a burden on my soul. If I could throw that off I would be supremely happy. ” “Tell it, dear,” he whispered, looking down upon her from his grand height. “I am sure that it will not include a plea for forgiveness.” “No, Lisle,” she said, though the calm lines of her mouth wrought with suppressed emotion. “I committed no wrong; I was in no wise to blame, and yet it might have led to peril had it been less precipitate.” She spoke with a timid earnestness that suited her soft, girlish voice. She waited a few seconds; then said: “Lisle, do you remember the day you came home at nine in the morning instead of at nine in the evening, as you had written would?” “Yes, dear.” “When you came into the drawingroom you found me crying.” “I remember, Maggie. Don’t say anything about it.” “But I—l—want to,” she stammared. She was looking directly at him with the sweet eyes that ever inspired faith, promised fidelity, pleaded for love. “You need not tell me, Maggie, for I know, ” he said. “You know!” she exclaimed, aghast. “Yes, dear. You refer to Bichard Brandon’s perfidy.” Intense surprise filled her face. “He didn’t tell you?” she gasped. “No, Maggie,”'replied Lisle, with peculiar gravity. “There isn’t even that to be said in his favor. Dear, I saw and heard what happened. I was on the veranda, just where we are standing now. I made no noise, because I wanted to surprise you. The window was open, you remember. It came to me like a lightning stroke. I reached tor my revolver. ” “Ob, Lisle!” cried his wife, with a shudder. “Then I saw you repulse him, heard your hot words of scorn, noted the indignant expression upon your face, understood that you were pure as heaven is pure, and as loyal as the just. But for that I would have shot him.” Her eyes grew dim with a sudden gush of feeling. She glided close to him again, and clung to him in her excitement. “It opened my eyes,” she heard him say. “I saw how selfish I had been—how neglectful. A rare treasure was mine and I had never properly appreciated it. I had been living solely for myself. The mental confessions I made brought a sense of shame to mv brow and a pang of regret to my heart. Maggie, I have been kind to you since then.”

“Much kinder, Lisle,” she cried, trembling in her joy and standing on her toes so that her lips could touch his. “The dearest, best husband that ever lived. And you saw? And all this time you knew ?” “Yes, pet. Let it all go. It opened my eyes and brought joy to you. We should both be thankful.” “And, Lisle, we are.”

SHE NESTLED CLOSE TO HIM.