Democratic Sentinel, Volume 22, Number 5, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 February 1898 — WOOED AND MARRIED [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

WOOED AND MARRIED

BY CHARLOTTE M BRAEME

“I believe it and respect you for it. For tome short time past I have fancied that in thinking as I did I was mistaken. Now I know it, and am glad to know it. I am sorry that you were sacrificed to me.” “Did you—do you-—pray do not be angry with me,” she said —“did you love any one else?” “I have been among fair women what a butterfly is among flowers,” he replied. “I bavo loved not one. hut a hundred. I might 6ay I have had as many loves as there, are days in the year.” “But the one great love of your life — the love that is given only once—have you given that?” she asked. “I understand. You ask me, in fact. If I had ever loved any one sufficiently to ask her to be my wife. No, I had not. My loves were for the day, not for all time. I have never asked any one to marry me, for the simple, all-sufficient reason that I have never seen any one whom I should have cared to marry.” “Do not be shocked if I ask you another question,” she said, with downdropped eyes and flushing cheeks. “Now that our marriage is an accomplished fact, do you think that we might make the best of it—might try to forget this wretched begininng? Could you never care even ever so little for me?” He looked at her thoughtfully. “I might deceive yon—l might say *Yes,' and play you false! but I will not. You are too good for that. No. not In the same sense you mean—not to love you as a man should love his wife —never! You must forgive me if these seem hard words —you have asked me for them.” The night wind sighed around them, the sunlight had died away, the moon was rising in the sky. “I am grateful to you,” he continued. “1 will do all I can to show my gratitude; you are and shall be mistress of the whole place. It is yours in so far as your money has saved it; you shall have every desire of your heart, every wish gratified. Your position is one of the highest in the land; you shall have ( to grace it. You shall have entire liberty; you shall invite whom you like, visit -rfhom you like; you shall go abroad when you will and remain at home when you will. You shall be your own mistress in every respect. I will always see that every honor is paid you.” “In short.” she said, “you will give me everything but love.” “Well, if you choose to put it in that light, yes.” “I accept the terms,” she said, gently. “There are many women who have to find the happiness of their lives in the fulfillment of duty; I must do the same.”

CHAPTER VIII. Three weeks had passed since the night on which Hildred hnd heard the true story of her marriage. She had tried hard to conquer the love of her husband which had begun to spring up in her heart. She tried hard to do her duty, to school herself In the knowledge that for her life was to be without love. But it was hard. She was young and impressionable; the earl was handsome and fascinating. There were times when an irresistible impulse came over her—an impulse to beg him to love her. She resisted it and every time she did so resist her heart grew colder and harder. “Lord Caraven,” said Hildred, one day, “who is the person—gentleman, I should say, perhaps—who comes here so often?” “Do you mean John Blant.vre, my faithful friend and steward?” he nsked, laughingly. “He comes every day.” “Is that his name? I do not like his face.”

“Why not, Hildred?” he asked. “It is not the face of an honest man, unless Nature has for once made a mistake in her own handwriting.” “I trust him implicitly—indeed, I do not believe I ever looked over his accounts.” She thought a great deal after that conversation. It had opened her eyes more fully to her husband’s character than anything that had passed before. She decided to study him. AA r as he generous? She thought at first that she might-say “yes.” They were riding out one day, and they met a poor woman begging with a little child in her arms; she was poor, hungry, all in tatters, with pinched face and sad, weary eyes, a pitiful spectacle of want and destitution. As they passed by the earl took out his purse and literally emptied it on the ground at the woman’s feet. She looked dazed and bewildered at this sudden bounty of fortune. He did not wait for any thanks, but rode on. “I wish,” he said, “that I could collect all the poor people in the world together, and make them rich.” “Was that generosity?” she said to herself. Yes, it must be. They rode on until they came to a small cottage—one belonging to the Itavensmere estate —at the door of which stood a man still young but crippled and bent double with rheumatism. A little cry of pain came from Hildred’s lips as she saw him, but the young man’s eyes were fixed with an evil light on the earl’s face. Hildred stopped to say a kind word to him; the cripple came out and stood in front of the earl’s magnificent horse. “My lord,” he said, in a hoarse voice, “I have you to thank for these”—pointing to his shrunken limbs—“and for these, also”—pointing to his useless hands. “What do you mean?” Lord Oaraven demanded, his face flushing with anger. “I mean this, my lord—that I was a strong young man when I took this cottage and brought my wife home here; now,” he cried, in a sudden passion of despair—"now look at me!” “What have I to do with that?” asked the earl, angrily. “This much, my lord—l spent all my bit of money on this land; I had none left for repairing the house—your house, my lord. The water came in at the roof and at the windows—the wind blew through the doors. I begged to have it repaired; I have sent more letters than I could count to agent and landlord. Neither has at--1 tended to me. If I had had the money I 1 would have done it myself, but I had not. I have had a sick wife and sick children, but never a shilling to spare for the broken roof, and your boartlessness has reduced me to this.” “Stand aside,” said the earl, angrily; “you men are never contented —never sat-isfied-stand aside!” “My lord!” cried the man, “the horses In your stables, the dogs in your kennels, are better cared for than I—they are better housed. If I die”—and feia voice

changed to a cry of despair—“my death be upon your head!” “Yon are an impertinent fellow!” cried the earl. “Out of my way, or I will ride over you!” “Pray—pray listen to him, Lord Caraven!” cried Hildred. But the earl turned angrily to her. “You do not understand these matters; you must not interfere,” he said—“a set of idle rogues.” “Stop, my lord,” cried the man. his f«*e paling—"stop. satisfied with taking my health and my strength—leave my character alone. lam no rogue; lam an honest, hard-working man.” “Honest, indeed!” cried the earl. “There is not one honest man among you.” “I will not answer, my lord,” he said, with quiet dignity. “I am asking a favor; it is life to me. I have no money to leave the house; if I remain in it as it is it will be certain death to me. My lord, it is but a few pounds—very few—do not refuse me!” But Lord Caraven’s face grew crimson with anger. “I shall do nothing of the kind. And let me tell you that I consider it a great piece of impertinence for you to stop me in this fashion; I have an agent to manage my affairs—go to him. Out of my road, and take care you do not stop me again.” The man went away and the earl rode on. Was he generous? Qply a few pounds, and for that a life must be sacrificed. She wondered to herself whose idea of generosity was mistaken—his or hers.

CHAPTER IX. Hildred’s heart sank lower and lower —every day brought her some fresh revelation of her husband’s character which was utterly unendurable to her. The worst trait of all was that he seemed to her, as it were, to lounge through life. He literally did nothing—no useful occupation ever seemed to attract him. He never read, he never wrote. If aDy letter of importance required an answer, he passed it to her or threw it aside. If the agent brought the accounts he said in his indolent manner, “Lay the books down —I will see to them soon;” but he never looked at them. He had but one idea, and that was amusement. No idea of work ever seemed to occur to him —self-indul-gence and indolence were all that he cared for. When the month of May came round he decided upon going to London. Halby House was prepared for them, and the handsome earl’s friends made ready to receive him with open arms. He had been welcome in hft penniless state, and, having married a wealthy heiress, he was now doubly welcome. Those who had won money from him before looked forward to winning more; those who had gambled and bet with him before looked forward to a renewal of those delights. He would be welcome.

A proud day for Arley Ransome was that of his daughter’s presentation at court. He drove to Halby House to see her before she went, and to him his daughter looked like a miracle of beauty. Full dress enhanced her loveliness wonderfully; her neck, arms and shoulders were beautifully molded, and they were shown 'to the greatest advantage, as was the perfect, rounded figure. The court dress was one of unusual magnificence—a silver brocade elaborately trimmed with rich lace. She wore a parure of diamonds; the waving plumes that lend so grotesque an effect to some faces gave her an air of majesty. The lovely Spanish face and dark eyes were a study In themselves. She was alone with her maids In her dressing room when Arley Ransome came. He sent up a little penciled note, saying; “Hildred, can you come into the drawing room for a few minutes? I want to see you in your court dress.” There was no elation in her heart as she raised her magnificent train in her hand and threw it over her arm. She went down stairs, grave, collected, almost sad.

Arley Ransome started as she entered. Then he made a low bow. “My dear Hildred,” he said, “I congratulate you. How beautiful you look! You were horn to be a countess.” “I am glad that you are pleased,” she replied. He was her father, and she was compelled to honor him; but she felt that she could never forgive him for having sold her —sold her for a title. “I think, my dear,” said Arley Ransome, nervously, “that it would be quite well if you could try to—to look a little bright. You do not look happy. How is it?” “Did you ever expect that I should be happy, papa?” “Of course. Most certainly you have everything to make you so.” She made no reply. The lawyer’s eyes glistened with keenest satisfaction as he looked at her. “It is a proud day for me,” he said—“the day on which I see my daughter in her court dress. Throw down the train; let me see the full effect.” AA r ithout a smile on her face she complied, standing before him, calm, beautiful, self-possessed. At that moment the earl, not knowing she wus there, entered the room. He stared at the lovely apparition. “Hildred, I did not know that you were here. You are ready, I see.” “Quite ready,” she replied, briefly. “Then we will start at once,” he said. Arley Ransome went up to him. “You must feel pleased and proud,” he said. “The most beautiful woman presented to-day will be your wife. I predict for her a signal triumph.” “AA r hieh will add considerably to my domestic happiness,” remarked the earl. Yes, he was pleased. He saw people whose opinions he valued turn to look at his wife; he heard her name whispered; he saw admiring glances follow her; he felt that among fair pink-and-white English girls she looked like some southern queen. But the knowledge of all this did not in the least warm his heart to her. And she? She had ceased to feel any great interest in his opinion. The time had been when she would perhaps have stood before him, and have said, “I hope you are pleased with me, Eord Oaraven.” She would not now; she was proudly, superbly indifferent. Indeed, she would have given much for the impulse, the desire to please him. It had faded away—died of neglect.

CHAPTER X. “Hildred,” said Lord Caraven, “Captain Fane will dine with us this evening. Try to get someone else to meet him.” She was in the library, busily engaged in writing letters, and her husband’s sudden entrance startled her. It was a bright morning, and the sun shone on her graceful 'head. She wore a pretty morning

costume, dainty white lace encircling Hie white throat and armi. A man’s heart might have warmed to her with exceeding great love—Lord Caraven did not; he, never even stopped to look at her, to make any inquiries about her, er to apeak a few words of kindly greeting. “I do not like Captain Fane,” she said, quickly. “Possibly—but then, yon see, that has nothing to do with the matter.” He spoke quite good-humoredly, but bis wife saw a slight flush in his face. “Captain Fane, you may be surprised to hear, was rude to me when I saw him at Lady Redsley’s ball.” “Indeed! I have never heard anything against -him of that kind. If he really was rude, you must have annoyed him.” “I did nothing of the kind, Lord Caraven,” she replied, quietly. "What did he do or say?” he asked. “I decline to tell. You evidently disbelieve what I say; but, if Captain Fane dines here, I shall not.” “That is as yon wish,” he replied. “I mean it, Lord Caraven. If Captain Fane dines here, I shall not enter the dining room.” “Then I must make an apology for your absence, and say that you have a headache,” he replied. “I will give no orders for dinner for Captain Fane,” said Hildred. “I think you will, Lady Caraven; if not, they will be given for you. Mind, there is a limit to my patience—you must not often abuse it. It is plain that you dislike Captain Fane because I like him.” “No, it is not so, I assure you, Lord Caraven. I was told not many days since that Captain Fane was strongly suspected of some unfair dealings at cards, and would be requested to leave your club.” “I do not believe it,” he said, abruptly. “It is mere gossip—it is not true.” “It is true, for the Duchess of Morley told me. She said she would tell me whom to know and whom not to know; among the latter was Captain Fane.” “It is all nonsense,” he said, but he began to fear there might be something in the story. The earl then quitted the room really angry at last. He was naturally of an even temper. He was perhaps too indolent to be of any other, but he was really angry this time. _ “A school girl like that to defy me in my own house,” he said —“it is quite unendurable.’' He rang for the housekeeper and gave orders for a recherche dinner. Hildred had gone to her room. She would not permit the servants to know that there was anything wrong. Her only resource was to shut herself up in her room arfd leave them to imagine that she had a bad headache. Shut up there, she heard all that passed. She heard Captain Fane's arrival, and dinner being served. She heard the sound of laughter —then came a silence, and she knew, just as though she had been present, that the earl and his guests were playing cards. (To be continued.)