Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 184, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 August 1918 — STRANGELY WEDDED [ARTICLE]

STRANGELY WEDDED

By JESSIE E. SHERWIN.

(Copyright, MM, Western Newspaper Union.) —Waldron Morse, seventy, worn out, had come to Shell Beach to die. Wilton Revere, thirty, at life’s choicest phase, had come to reconstruct a broken life. Because the one was exhausted in mind and b.ody and the other world-weary, the mutual seriousness of manner and face attracted each to the other. The older man. wheeled along the beach In his invalid chair, looked eagerly for the only sojourner at the famous health resort who attracted him because of his gravely sympathetic ways. was a poise, gravity and clearness about the younger man that led Mr. Morse to accept him as a person he could rely upon. The fact that he seemed to be well versed legally added to Mr. Morse’s ’regard for him. The old man was wealthy, but his affairs had some complex features that disturbed'him, in view of his condition. “All I fear for,” he told-Revere, “is that my daughter Ethel, if left alone iq. the world, would be at the mercy of self-interested persons who would not guard her interests. "ts I could only be sure of living until some pending litigation is settled!” “Cheer up, dear friend!” Revere told him. “Ydu may live for many a year to come.” But the next day Morse was taken fatally ill. He called Revere to his bedside and seemed to rely upon his continued presence as a solace until his daughter, who was living with an aunt in the city! arrived. Revere was fascinated at his first glimpse of the sweet, innocent face of Ethel Morse. He was gent for in urgent haste. Mr. Morse clasped his hand fervently as he sat down by his bedside.

“Revere,” he said, “you have been like a son to me. The doctors say I may live but a few hours. I have learned to esteem you, more, to rely upon you. Oh, my friend, help me to die in peace by consenting to cherish and look after my daughter’s interests.” “I will do all you may wish to benefit her,” assured Revere. “More than that! Revere, I beg of you to do what I suggest. She will have a fortune, she is a wife any man may be proud of. Will you marry her?” Revere was dumbfounded. He got as far as “I dare'not — I am—•” but a spasm of pain overtook Mr. Morse, and Revere had to call for the doctor. An hour later he was sent for again. At a glance he realized that Mr. Morse was dying. By his side was his daughter, pale and benumbed with grief. A stranger in clerical attire sat at a distance. “Revere, it is all arranged,” panted the dying man. “Ethel has consented —she could not deny my last wish. Be kind to her, protect her, make her life happy.” And in the whirl of hurried events the words were spokeft that made Wilton Revere and Ethel Morse husband and wife. He did not intrude upon her until the funeral was over and she started for the hdme of her aunt. As he helped her upon the train, he said, simply, quietly, definitely: “I shall soon be in Chicago, whither I shall remove my office to take up the affairs of the estate, as your father has desired. When any business occasion arises where it Is necessary to consult with you, I will notify you. I would suggest that we keep the marriage secret.” There followed for the wife a strange experience. Only twice in a year Revere came to see her, and then nnly long enough to submit some legal papers, and in the presence of her aunt. Then one day he called at her hdme, to find her alone. “I am about to leave the city permanently,” he said, "having closed up all matters of the estate. I have a confession to make. I am not your husband; that marriage ceremony was Invalid.”

She regarded him with speechless amazement. “I could not deny your father’s wish,” he continued, “and I fancied I saw a way to protect your interests in the way I have without intruding upon you. Two years since I parted from my wife, an unworthy woman, whom I have never seen since, but I am still her legal husband." “Oh, why did you not tell me before!” suddenly breathed forth Ethel. “It was unmanly, it was cruel, for I —l—” She hurried from the room In tears, and Revere left the house in a strange maze of emotion. Could It be possible that she cared for him? And he—oh, that fatal tie, that shut him out of paradise! Hope, doubt, despair were in his thoughts as, a week later, he again called at the home of Ethel. There was a certain plaintive expression in her face that seemed to upbraid him. “I learned only yesterday that my wife died over a year ago in a railroad wreck in Canada. It was previous to my marriage with you. I am sorry if this new complication distresses you.” “Then I am your wife, in reality!” breathed Ethel, a quick glow suffusing her lovely face. Then she seemed to totter, leaned towards him and fainted In his arms.

To lie there! When her eyes again opened, in her face was that which told Wilton Revere, that she him even as he loved her, and that there was no menace of another parting. _