People's Pilot, Volume 4, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 January 1895 — A HORRIBLE MISTAKE. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A HORRIBLE MISTAKE.

a <l been living fj since our marD U riage in a cosy farrM little house uptown, and for one , short, blissful SJ year the blessed \ spirit of harmony V pervaded our dainty dwelling. V but now the R jv> seemingly inevitable shadow was _Jkj creeping alowly between us, and

thaj, shadow bore the semblance of a pale, emaciated man, the brother of my wife’s old friend and schoolmate. I never liked Belle Hastings particularly well; there was something in her dark gray eyes that looked treacherous to me even in her girlhood, and now, after a two years’ sojourn in wicked New York I fancied, as jealous men sometimes will, that she was no fit companion for my gentle Amy. But my wife seemed radiantly happy when Belle and her brother took the house next door. I said nothing, but at that instant I felt a curious sensation burning in my heart, and knew, but would not admit, even to myself, the fact that I was jealous of Arthur Hasting's nearness to my treasure. For Arthur had loved her once in the days when they were boy and girl togetlier, but lie was poor and sickly, while I was quite the opposite, and although I never really doubted Amy's love, I sometimes found myself wondering if she liad ever cared for Arthur.

I was not neglected in any manner. Amy was there when I arrived, and the house was always as bright and cheerful as could be. but all her plans for ourselves were so interwoven with plans for our neighbors that the feeling that I was no longer foremost in her mind drove me nearly frantic with suppressed resentment. And one morning the rage in my heart overcame my will entirely. “You think altogether too much of Belle Hastings aud her brother,” I said, with a meaning accent, when Amy had finished telling me some plan that she had made for her neighbors’ entertainment. My wife looked surprised and pained at my sudden outbreak, and replied with a little show of temper: “Belle is ray best friend,” she said, hotly, “and Arthur, poor fellow, is my best friend’s brother.” “And your lover once,” I retorted fiercely. “You should have married him if you regarded him so highly.” And then, slamming the door, I left her for the first time in our married life without the usual kisses and caresses. That night when I returned home I heard my wife and her friend talking softly together in the parlor. I was not overpleased to find Belle there, for I had fully made up my mind to a-pologizte to my wife and try to establish the old affection, but just as I reached the parlor door, without in the least attempting to listen, I heard my wife talking in the most plaintive tones, as if her very heart was broken. “Go to him, Belle, and tell him that 1 love him! Toll him that it is all a mistake—that he alone is the idol of

Iny heart, and no other could take his place even for a minute.” I turned abruptly upon my heel and entered the study door, where I could not hear their voices, and then, with my brain in a perfect tiiinult of bewilderment, I sat-down to reason olit my wife’s strange message. To whom was the message to be carried—to myself, her husband, or to Ajrthnr Hastings? If to me, why should a. bearer be necessary? and. if to Arthur —but I could not harbor such a vile suggestion. At first I felt angry at Amy for thus revealing our-first disagreement, but Belle s r friendj'' afid*' world another.' JlWaiteda*l it tlV 5 lohger a.hd then, hearingjraHue v parJor • door open and close, concluded .Belle had started to find me. I rose eagerly and opened the door, and in another instant, foolishly expectant, I was standing close beside her. “Good evening,” she said sweetly, as she finished: buttoning her glove. “I have been calling on Amy and did not know that you were home.” Then, to my utter surprise and distress, she walked abruptly to the door, and with a. pleasant nod, opened it and went out* to deliver, I suppose, my

wife’s endearing message. I was satisfied now that my jealousy .was not groundless For fully five minutes I remained motionless in the hall, while the blood whirled madly through my veins and my heart ponnded in my chest like the blows from a hnge sledge hammer. My first thought was to leave her at once, but there came tlfe hideous thirst for vengeance. So she had tricked me, this gentle, saint-like woman, aud the man who was the “idol of her heart” was that palefaced rogue, her next door neighbor. I saw and understood everything now, even to the minutest details of their clever plans and plottings. By dinner time I was calm and composed, but there was a distant haughtiness about my manner that repelled my wife in her treacherous advances. I knew her now, and acting could not deceive me. She looked at me wistfully and with actual tears shining in her eyes, but I ignored her glance completely and busied myself with the evening paper. After dinner I went out and left her alone without so much as saying I was going, but about 9 o’clock I crept guiltily back and placed my ear at the keyhole of my own wife’s chamber. It was as I thought; Belle was there, and this was what I caught of a hurried conversation. “He was thoroughly indifferent.” Belle was saying, “and not only showed me that he resented my interference, but that he was disgusted at what he terms your ‘fickleness,’ and did not care particularly for any further demonstration. I am sorry for you, dear,” she added, “but all men are not alike, I assure you, and my brother ” but here I lost the rest

So it seemed that my ivorst suspicions had been verified. The message had been for Arthur Hastings, and he, the contemptible, pale-faced man, had declined her offer of affection. In an instant the whole tide of my anger was turned toward him—the man who could scorn a woman's honor. I forgot that she had wronged me and disgraced herself, for my brain was burning at this man’s audacious treatment. There was just a moment in which to act, for I could hear Belle coming across the floor, and turning the key quietly in the lock, I left her fumbling at the door and rushed almost headlong out to call upon my rival. I burst into Arthur Ilasting's presence in a state of almost furious anger, and without a word of explanation, I seized him by one feeble shoulder and nearly shook the breath out of his body. “Soyou are the black-hearted scoundrel who has ruined my home and then declined my wife's affections? ’ I whispered hoarsely. “You are the meek-faced, skulking hypocrite who has pretended friendship for me even while you robbed me of my honor!” I stopped suddenly, as I began, for the man had turned almost ghastly in the face and fallen heavily before me on the carpet. What had I done? Had I really killed him in my fury? And then shame, for the horrible advantage I had taken, overpowered me completely, and flushed my face with a ooward’s crimson. I stood above him now in horrible consternation, when suddenly the door flew open and my wife and Belle stood breathless before me.

“Oh, Charlie! Charlie! What hare you done?” my wife shrieked excitedly, but Belle Hastings, apparently understanding all, rushed over and knelt beside her brother. “It is I who have killed him,” she said in a voice of agony. “It is l who am to blame for this horrible error. I did not deliver your message, Amy, and your husband has heard and misconstrued it.” Paralyzed in every limb Amy and I stood silently and watched the wretched woman as she moaned over the prostrate form and caressed the ghastly features. Then while I, his murderer, remained mute with horror she raised her haggard eyes to my face again, while her dry lips could hardly express their language. “He loved you, oh, so dearly, Amy, but he was honorable to the end, my brother, and would never wrong, you or your husband. But I —,” here she shuddered in mortal pain, “I loved him so dearly that I was false to you. I would have parted you if I could —” but her calmness could endure no longer. While Belle wept and wailed above her dead I turned one wild, appealing glance toward Amy, and in utter hopelessness my glance w as answered.

Shivering with horror she took my hand and led me close beside my victim, then taking Belle’s also in her own she forced her to look up while she whispered the words of our , condemnation. “We are all to blame,” she said, 4iobly, ‘'but God alone can read our hearts/ ; He was innocent, poor, dear Arthur, bht weeping will not bring ' him back, and now there is nothing" left but to separate and keep his awful fate a secret.” Then reverently, we kne}t and kissed the dead;" and when hp,d arisen, she, the purest of us all, was able through innocence to dream that I might be '.•■fdrgivein.

“YOU ROBBED ME OF MY HONOR!”