Rensselaer Republican, Volume 18, Number 37, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 May 1886 — HARRY’S NEW HOME. [ARTICLE]

HARRY’S NEW HOME.

BY LAURA J. ARTER.

“What is the matter, Bessie? You look pale enough to scare one, and Ido believe you’ve been crying!” “Oh! I’m just as wretched as I can be, Josie. My head aches dreadfully, and the baby fretted nearly all night, and—and Harry forgot to kiss me this morning.” Here the little woman broke down in tears, while Josie, unused to snch outbursts of feeling from her quiet sister, essayed a word of comfort, as she rescued the threeweeks old baby from its heap of soft blankets, and set about the work of dressing it. “Never mind, Bess, the headache will soon pass off, and the baby is sweet enough new, to make up for bis bad behavior of the night, and Harry will give you two kisses when he comes home, to atone for the omission this morning." Then she began talking to the little pink baby, who blinked his eyes in the light, and' looked as if he had never cried in his short life. “Oh! yon blessed little baby! You darling, softmousey—auntie could hug the life out of you this minute. Do you know, Bessie,'l think his eyes are just like yours, and his head is shaped for all the world like his papa’s.” A sob was the only response, and Josie looked up in surprise, to lind her sister Still weeping. .“Bess, wbpt does ail you? You've not told me everything yet, 1 feel sure, because it isn’t at all like you to err about such trifles. There’s some trouble on your mind that you’re trying to conceal from tne. Vhaf isit.'" ... :; ' Between her sobs, poor Bessie related her •tory. “I thought at first I’d never tell anyone, if it killed me, but oh! I’m so miserable I cant help confiding in you, Josie. You we I've been thinking for several weeks that there was a change in Harry. He ■earned so preoccupied, so—l can hardly explain it, but I felt he was concealing something from me. "Well, this morning he had been walking baby to sleep, and as he laid him down on the bod, a folded paper dropped out of his pocket. He didn't notice it, and I never thought of it again, until he had been gone some time, when I accidentally touched it with my hand, and almost without realizing what I was doing, commenoed reading it. Here it is. ” And covering her face with her hands, Mrs. Mitchell tried to shut out her misery. 3one's pretty face grew scarlet with indignation, as she read: ‘Dear Clara:— l am so afraid of arousing suspicion that I dare not come around this morning, though I long to do so. What do you think of the pictures? Are they not lovely? They will help to make our little home bright and beautiful, though there will be one dear, faithful one there who would make any home full of gladness for me. But I’ve no time now for sentiment—Til save mv love-talk for the happy evenings which will noon be here. “I am glad you are pleased with the carpet; your taste is so exquisite I feared I could not •nit yon. The piano will be here next week—a Steinwav, of course. What a little witch you are to lead one into extravagances. “My life has been cramped and pinched since my marriage, but now I am coming out of the shadows into the sunshine. 'What a fortunate thing- that no one in the place is acquainted with you. If thev were, it might lead to awkward revelations. Til be around this evening for an hour or two. Til tell Bessie I'm going to a meeting. It is foolkh, i know, bnt I almost feel sOrrv to deceive her so, but of course it can’t be helped. ‘Lovingly, “Harry." Josie ground her little white teeth together as she finished, add her wrath broke forth in a storm of angry words. “The base, deceitful wretch! I never could have believed it of him, had I not seen this letter with my own ejes. I don’t see how he dare look you in the face again. No wonder he forgot to kiss you! I just wish I were a man—l’d thrash him within an inch pf his life—l would indeed. Oh, you poor, innocent little baby, Aunt Josie wooldrather see you dead than to know you would ever be such a perfidious wretch as your father.” In spite of her savage and rather unwomanly words, Josie shed some very womanly tears, over the soft, baby face •he had gathered up close to her heart Baby, as if in sympathy, set up a vigorous cry, which spoke volumes for the strength of his lungs, and Josie tried in vain to pacify him. In the midst of this distress, a gentle rap was beard at the door, and Mre. Mitchell hurriedly spread a handkerchief over her face, and feigned sleep, while Josie poked the tell-tale letter into the fire, applied a wet towel to her eyes for a moment, and then, with a hypocritically cheerful countenance, opened the door. A little, fat dumpling of a woman hastened into the room, seeming to have brought some of the sunshine in with her. "Good morning. Josie! How is Mrs. Mitchell this morning? Dear, dear, baby, do stop crying—you’ll ’waken your mamma if yon don’t. Give him to me, Josie. You don’t know bow to manage him. Poor little thing! Did Aunt Josie stick pins in him? There—there—there!” Apd baby, as if yielding to the soothing voice and motherly touch, stopped crying, and did not renew it, all through ttie trying process of bathing and dressing. Finally,

«h*ta*k completed. Mrs. Moore held him up for in*|>ectiou, a Urge quantity of flannel, liuen. tucks, and embroidery, and a very small amount of baby. A few feminine rhftjwotiies from (he two ladies followed, of course, and then Mrs. Moore, little su-peeling the pain she was causing, said:! . ' •*, ‘•Wasu’t Sirs. Mitchell delighted with ~f|> oxqniaiU. so fifc-like. and the very ones she. adnrtrert so much when we wore down tosjn together one day. [She could scarcely pass them, but she said she could not afford to buy them. 1 was glad for her, when I saw Mr. Mitchell purchasing them. By the way, who was tin* young Indy helping him to select those benuiiful vases the other day? 4 happened into Newell A Howard’s while they Were in there! 1 She renllv has one of the sweetest fuces'l ever “i 1 ,' 1 ' ' , —• — The~fte6H‘, Stek~wlfe, listening with thepainful eagerness which only a heart filled with love, grief, and jealousy con know, coqld liof repress a slight moan, and Josie, glad Pf any excuse to keep from replying, got up hastily and busied herself about the bed. Mrs. Moore laid baby down in his crib, and fearing that further conversation might disturb Mrs. Mitchell, slipped quietly tmt of the room, promising tp come in and dress bnliy-again next day. As soon ns the door closed, Josie stooped down and put her arms around her sister’s neck. “My poor darling! It seems too cruel—it hi unjust to the last degree that yon should have to suffer so. Just think how you have economized ever since yonr marriage, working late and early, and often beyond yonr strength, nlwnys patiently sacrificing yonr own pleasure, for, the sake of helping Harry and not being a burden to him. And you’ve worn your old dresßes, and half starved your intellect, because books cost so much. and have hardly allowed yourself to think of music even, m.nch ns you lovo it, fearing Harry might think you felt the need of a ptlfli"- ■ • • . ' ;■ '

“He could not get one for you —for one of the best and most devoted wives in the world, but he-can buy an elegant one for this wretched girl, with her pretty young face, which has made him lose all sense of shame and honor.” And Josie’s black eyes snapped scornfully, in spite of her tears. “Don’t—don’t, Josie! I can’t bear to hear it all. Oh! 1 have tried so hard to be a good wife to him, working and saving gladly, because 1 was so anxious for a dear home of Our own, where I could have a little yard with a few tea-roses and vines to make it benutiful. What have my sweet dreams come to? A black, miserable end. I have not even my husband’s love. Oh! Josie, how can I bear it? Were it not for my sweet baby, I should pray to die.” “Don't talk übout dying, Bess. I’d live, just to spite him—the unfeeling monster! Get well just as fast as you can, and we’ll at least have the comfort of letting the guilty creatures know that we are not blinded. I’ll follow Harry down town to-night, when he goes to that meeting. which will be the first step towards proving bis guilt, and meantime, you must pretend ignorance, wifely trust, and all that.” So Josie, planning away eagerly, began to feel quite detective-like, and had not her sister been so miserable, would rather have enjoyed the novelty of being an “avenger.” Mrs. Mitchell appeared at the tea-table that night for the first time since her illness. Josie had coaxed her to wear one of her own pretty wrappers, and had arranged the mass of soft,brown hair quite artistically. And Mrs. Mitchell looked very pretty indeed, for her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed with excitement, And the little hands, usually brown from hard work, were now white as lilies. Josie looked at her admiringly, and wondered if Harry com Id have the heart to leave her for the sake of thut other woman. It seemed that he had indeed become hardened enough even for that, for after almost carrying his wife into the little parlor, and affectionately arranging the pillows on the lounge for her, he picked up his hat and said, half apologetically, that it was too bad, but he had to attend a meeting down town. He flushed up hotly when Josie asked what kind of a meeting, and where it was to be held, and murmuring something about important business in a distant part of the city,' hurried from the room. Josie was on her feet in a moment, and jerking on her hat and cloak* rushed out of the door just in time to see Harry jump into a hack and drive rapidly away. Feeling very much like crying, she returned to comfort her sister, who was heart-sick and wretched. Mr. Mitchell came home at half past ten that night, but as Josie had gone to bed, and his wife pretended to be sleeping, he was saved the annoyance of being questioned. Thanking his stars for this good lnck, he crept quietly into bed, without rousing either wife or baby. ; . , Mrs. Mitchell bore up bravely under her trials. With a pure conscience and clear, steady mind, she determined not to sink under trouble, but, in doing her duty, to rise above it. Josie, more passionate and impetuous than her sister, could scarcely restrain her indignation, and never ceased iher scrutiny of hex brother-in-law’s conduct. Her vigilance was at last rewarded, by finding a card which Harry dropped as he sat at dinner one day, It "was simply the number of a house—3Bl street—but somehow, with woman's intuition, she felt that it was the number of that house. So, that night, as soon as Mr. Mitchell left the house, Josie procured a carriage, and the two ladies were soon driving towards Elm street. Telling the driver to wait till they returned, Josie and her sister stopped a moment before entering the gate, to look aronnd them. It was a clear, moonlight night, and they could distinctly see a pretty yard with a shell walk winding in and out amidst the shrubbery, and beyond it a neat brick house, substantial and home-like. They, advanced slowly up the waTk, scarcely knowing what to do next, their courage gradually' deserting them. By some kind of carelessness or lucky chance, the front door had been left slightly ajar. Josie stood with her hand on the bell, when the sonnd of Mr. Mitchell's voice within caused her to change her mii.fi, and quietly pushing open the door she entered, beckoning to her sister to follow her. t They found themselves in a pretty hall, where the gas was burning bnt dimly. Mr. Mitchell s hat and overcoat hung on the hat-rack, with a kind as at-home air, that sent a pang through his wife’s heart They stopped a moment to gain courage, and then walked quietly to the door of the parlor, where they heard Harry talking. Looking in, they saw a pretty, large room beautifully carpeted, with handsome furniture, several fine pictures ou the walls, an elegant piano, and an artistic mantel covered with lovely bric-a-brac, underneath which a bright grate fire was sparkling and glowing. A fantastic table was covered with pots of flowers in full blossom—roses, pansies, and primroses lending their sweetness to add to the attractiveness of the room. Mr. Mitchell stood before the fire, a picture of contentment Beside him stood a young girl, dressed with quiet elegance, her golden hair done up high on her pretty, ! shapely bead, her sweet face turned up to look at the tall man beside her, her violet ] eyes full of admiring fondness.

Mm. Mitchell drew a short, agonized breath. as she saw her happy rival, but no word escaped lior white lips. “Well, it really is pleasant here now, isn’t it, Clnnv? Do you know, sine* | bare become accustomed to this delightful Louse, the poor little pirlor at 'home ha* begun to look so dim ami cheerlea* that I wonder how wc ever could have lived in It ail these years. But for yon, I might hard gene in tfce sa'niie - mky year* 1 ' longer. Wei!, 1 aui thankful those limes are past, and I intend to liegin enjoying life now.” Then suddenly changing hit tone, be said: . ■ - ■ , : ■. ' .. “I half believe that shrewd llUIe sister-in-law of mine has Mgun to suspect something. Shu Las kept me in constant fear of discovery for week past. ,_Aud I actually feel conscience - stricken h*-sti'h , keii for being bit deiaitfril with poor [Bessie. She is shut up in that dingy, close i little house, thinking her liege lord is out on business, and so I am—a business of true love, isn't it Clara?” And he stooped and kissed the pretty, rosy lips. This was, too much for Josie to witness without giving voice to her wrath, and she burst into the room, her cheeks flaming, her eyes flashing, her whole form dilated with anger. “Sbnme, shame on you, Harry Mitchell! Are you lost to nil honor and decency; that for the sake of this wicked girl you give up the truest love .that Was ever bestowed on man? Look at your poor victim, whose heart you have wrung with the keenest anguish! Are you not proud of your work?” , Mrs. Mitchell, white and trembling,.with a sirnngo.ringing in her ears, and a deathly sickness hhd weakness stealing over her, would have fallen to the floor, had not her liusbaml sprung forward and caught her in his arms. -j “My precious wife—my own true heart, look up! Oh! darling, have you doubted me?” “Doubted you! Doubted such an innocent, pure, true man as you? O, impassible!” And Josie laughed scornfully. A little white hand was laid softly on her arm, and a gentle voice said pleadingly: “I am Harry’s half-sister—you are the sister of his beloved wife. I hod thought to myself that we should love each other dearly. Let my hope become a reality.” Josie burst into nn uncontrollable fit of laughing and crying, and there really seemed to be danger of Harry’s sister being suffocated in her embrace. The reaction bad been so sudden; the transition from anger to gladness so great and complete, that she felt half wild. Then followed satisfactory explanations. Clara's grandfather, with whom she had lived since the death of her parents, when she was almost an infant, had recently died. Through her loving persuasion and gentle influence,'he had been induced to bequeath twenty thousand dollars to Harry, who had in some way offended him when he was a mere boy, and with whom he had had no communication for years. He had also forbidden any correspondence between the two children, but immediately after his death Clara had written to Harry, and also announced her intention of visiting him. Harry immediately thought of the plan which he had carried out, of buying a comfortable house, having Clara come to help select and arrange the furniture, and then, after everything was in perfect order, bring his wife into it, and tell her if was home. The latter part of his scheme, which was to have been fulfilled on the morrow, was spoiled by his unlucky letter, and Josie’s skill as a detective. Josie, though contrite in spirit, declared that no good ever did come of concealing anything from one’s wife, and I quite agree with her.

Harry whispered to his now happy wife: “My dear, brave little Bessie, who toiled so bravely for my sake—she shall stint and toil no longer. No more faded dressefc, turned and turned again, bnt robes fit to adorn her dear form hereafter, and books and music and flowers, shall satisfy her longing soql.” My story is done, or I would tell how the wonderful baby was sent for, and the tired, happy mother found the daintiest crib for its use in her beautiful bedroom up stairs. And how Josie and Clara loved each other dearly, and often laughed merrily over their first tragic meeting, and a great many other equally interesting things, but I won’t, because, as I said btefore, my story is done.