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why pro i
A Wife's Confession.
few people do; so In this respect I
urn neither betted nbr worse than my
J;:; b&kaq^e
&QL Cartwright simply he
asked me. r *
This „ R R
was how it . happened ( He
was the rector of Doveton, and we
lived at the mam'rhonsc, which
about ten minuted walk from the
church and the rectory. Iffe had daily
services it Doveton, and 1 nearly
always Htjeudqd it. and it came to
pass that Mr. Cartwright invariably
walked home with me. It was a
matter of custom now, and I thought
nothing of it; it pleased him, and oh
the whole it was rather pleasant to
mo aUo. t ) ; .. T p ^4 b’b-ofT
1 must confess however, I was
rather surprised when one morning
as we got to the avenue which led up
to the manor house, Mr. Cartwright
asked me to be his wife.
I have never been able to find out
wiiy I said yes, but [ did ; perhaps /
thought it a pity to throw away so
muon love ; perhaps it was because ho
was so terribly in earnest tint I
dared not refuse him ; ; erliaps I feared
his pale face, and his low pleading
voice, would ever haunt me if I re-
jected his love; or perhaps it was be¬
cause he on it/ asked me to marry
him he did not ask me if I loved
him, for I think lie guessed that I did
not; perhaps it was all of these
reasons put together, but anyhow j
said yes, and in due time wje were
married.
J ought to have been very happy,
for ho was a most devoted husban I
but I was not, and though I d.d no.
notice it then, l know now that for
th • first six months after our mar-
nag • he was not happy either.
i was all m\ fault 1 cither wool
not or could u ( >t love him : 1 accepts
all ins d vo'ion to me as a matter o
course, but I mad * no effort te return
it ; and J f in sure he had found ou
that ha had mu le a mistake? in marry¬
ing a woman that did not lore him:
One morning about six months
:if.er our marriage, he told mo a
breakfast that he intended leaving me
alone for a few weeks, to stay with
his mother, who was not very well,
lie watched the effect of this an
nounceinout on me. but though I was
really displeased l concealed m\
annoyance, and asked carelessly
when he would start.
lie replied, the next, day if I had no
objection, and so it was settled.
lie was more affectionate than
usual that day and 1 was colder than
ever; I only once alluded to his
journey and that was to ask if 1
might have my sister Maud to stay
while he was g me.
The next morning. I was anxious
to avoid a formal parting, so I drove
to the station with him ; as the train
move i off, i remembered this was our
first parting since our marriage, and 1
wished 1 had not been so cold.
When I got home the house looked
so dreary and empty, and there was
no one to meet rue ; presently one of
the servants came for the shawls, an »
with her Zero, ilir. Cartwright’s
retriever, which, when lie saw 1 was
alone, set up a howl for his master. I
patted him and tried to comfort him,
feeling rebuked for his grief, as he
followed me whining* into the housc.
Every roan seemed empty and each
spoke of the absent master; at last 1
wandered into his study, where he
spent his nurnings and liked me to
sit and work, an l now 1 remembered
how f often 1 had excused myself, say 7 .
ing, 1 preferred the drawing room,
and this reflection did not add to my
happiness.
‘Tuere was a photograph of me
standing on his writing table, and
another on the chimney piece; ou the
wails hung two or three of ray draw¬
ings, which be had begjjcd of me when
we were engaged; indeed the room
was full of little remembrances of
me; I opened a book I had given him,
and in it was his name in my hand¬
writing, and underneath in his own,
‘From n»y darling wife.’ I had laid
it down with a sigh, as I thought how
carefully he had treasured everything
j had ever gi eu him and how little
care 1 took of all his gifts to me.
Everything I attempted, everything
I looked at reminded me of his good-
NEWS
b,.*.
VOL. IX.
mess to me, and of my coldness and
ingratitude to him. At las/1 went to
bed, where, after working myself into
a fever of anxiety lest he should not
have reached the end of his journey
in safety, I at length cried myself to
sleep.
The next morning I went clown to
breakfast with a heavy heart, for 1
knew 1 could not hear from him till
the next day; it seemed so strange to
brea/ifast alone, and Nero appeared to
think so too, for he was most unhap
py, sniffing round his master’s chair
in the most melancholy manner.
* My plate, tor the first time since
my marriage, was empty, as I sat
down to breakfast, lor my husband,
who w r as an early riser, always had a
little bouquet to greet me with every
morning; frequently 1 forgot all
about it and left it to be put in water
by the servant; this morning I would
have treasured it most carefully, if he
eon Id have gathered it,
After breakfast I determined to
rouse myself, and go and visit some
of the poor people in the village, so
1 filled my basket with some little
delicacies for the sick and set out.
JV herever * went it was the same
story ; all held foith cHi-my husband s
goodness and kindness, tor all had
neen helped by him in some way or
other, and all loved and respected
him. As 1 listened with burning
cheeks, * felt as if 1 was the only per-
son on earth who had treated him
with nunung ingrat'tude, and I was
t ic only person whom he most loved
aud cherished.
.it last i went home, tired and s ck
at heart; but there was no one to
notice i was pale and worn out, no
one to get me wine or soup to revive
me, no one to make me lie down and
rest, as he would have done had he
been there. O, how I missed him 1
What a fool l had been! \V as there
ever a woman loved aud carei for as
i had been? Iff.is there ever a friend
so ungrateful? O, why had i ever let
him leave me? 1 was sure he would
never come back. Iff by had he gone
away?
And conscience answered : ‘You
drove him ; he gave you all he had to
give and in return you gave him
nothing but cold looks and unkind
words; and so he left you, to seek
love and sympathy from his mother.
This thought almost maddened
me ; in fancy I saw her sitting in ray
place by his side, loving and caress¬
ing him, as I had the best right to
love and caress him; 1 pictured her
receiving tenderly the little loving
acts I had received so coldly, and
now I was seized with ajealous anger
against her. i mentally accused her
of estranging my husband from me.
and of trying to win his love from me,
as thougir his heart was not large
enough for both of us.
When Maud arrived in the after¬
noon, I treated her to a long tirade of
abuse against mothers-in-law in gener¬
al. and my own in particular and
vented all the anger I really felt
against myself, ou the innocent Mrs.
Cartwright.
‘Why, Nelly,’ said Maud*‘I thought
you liked M rs. Cartwright so much,
and thought her so nice, that you
even wanted her to live with you,
only your husband very properly, a,
“^SoTdTTAnawnred- would’ bat I did
not Allow then she ever entice
mv my husband husband away away from flora me me in in this this
way or of course I should never have
liked her.’
‘Really iVell you are ve r v hard on
thepoqawomaa; for,as 1 understand,
Mr. Cartwright went to her of his own
free Will, because she was not well.
and he thought his company would do
her good,’ said Maud.
‘Nonsense. I am sure he would
never have left me alone unless she
had put him up to it,’ I replied rather
crossly.
‘The truth is, Nelly, you are so
much in love with your husband that
you are jealous even of his mother;
Devoted te News. Politics. Agriculture and General progress-
rn 'i
J V 11 .
and you arc making yourself misera-
bio about nothing. Why, Mr.
wrighfc wili be back in a fortnight, and
I dare say you. will get a letter from
him every day ; so cheer upj and let
us go for a drive said Maud. +
I agreed to this plan; and giving
Maud the reins, j lay back and
tlvought of her words-. Was she right
after all? Was I jealous? Jf'as I
ready, as Maud said, in love with
mv husband? Had I only found it
now since I was deprived of his
company? Was this the reason that
could do nothing but inwardly
reproach myself f >r ray conduct to
him? And the longer I thought the
more convinced I became that Maud
was right; that I was jealous, - and
that I was in love, as she called it.
7’his knowledge did not make me
happier, for 1 no sooner knew I loved
h im than I longed to tell him so, and
make up, as far as I could, for all my
iorincr cruelty ; for I could call my
conduct by no milder word. 1 passed
a sleepless night, and as I Jay awake I
compose 1 various letters ofe mfession,
vvhicli J resolved to send tiie follow-
ing day ; but when morning came mv
pride stepped in, and I began to feel
^ vvou p| ^ )e impossible to write, and I
mils t wait till my husband came home
an q then tell him how his absence had
a ]tered me.
/ got up early and walked out to
mec t the postman, so anxious was I
to get a le'.ter from him ; it was the
first, l ha 1 ever received from him since
our marriage ; and no girl was ever so
anxious for. or so pleased with, her
first love-letter, as I was over this.
It was a long letter, full of loving
messages and terms of endearment
some of winch cut mo to the heart,
for they sounded like so many re¬
proaches ; in reality i think there w T as
a tone of gentle reproach throughout
the letter. He gave me an account
of his journey, ansi of his mother’s
heabh, begged me to write to him a
few lines every day, but he said not
a single word about returning.
I spent the morning in answering
it,-much to Maud’s amusement, w'ho,
of course, thought I wns pouring out
volumes of love and complaints of mv
temporary widowhood; after tearing
up a dozen sheets of paper 1 at last
sent a short note, cool and with no
allusions to my misery The more
I tried the more impossible I found
it to write any expression of love or
penitence, though I was hungering to
do so.
For a whole week I went on in this
way, suffering more acutely every day,
and every day receiving long, loving-
letters from Mr, Cartwright, and
writing short, cold answers.
I lost my appetite, I could not sleep
at night, and the torture I was en¬
during made me look so ill that Maud
became frightened, and declared she
would write and summon my husband
home, and tell him I was pining
away for him. I forbade her doing
this so sternly that she dared not
disobey me, for I was determined he
should never hear from any lips but
mine that at last his heart’s desire
was attained, for i loved him.
At last, when he bar! bee,, a «v
ten days, I could bear it no longer,
termined to go to Melton where Mrs-
Cartwright lived and see ray husband
I came to this decision one night, and
went lIKOs room e , -N ltt **“ .
e
morning to tell her of my intention,
I expected she would laugh at me,
but 1 th'niahegpiqssed something was
WTOI1 g tor she seemed glad to
auf * helped me to pack &
and set off in time to catch the
morning train.
It was three hours’ journey; they
seemed three years to me, for the
nearer I got to ray husband the more
impatient 1 was to see him. At last
I got to Melton, a large town. Of
course., as I was not expected, there
was no one to meet me, so I took a fly
to Mrs. Cartwright’s house about 3
I learned afterward that Andrew
was with his mother in the little
drawing room when i drove up, but
thinking that I was only a visitor, he
escaped into another room, so 1 found
my m >fher-in-law alone.
B\ her side was some of my bus-
band’s socks, which she was darning :
which I had handed over to the
servants to mend, and which I now
longed to snatch away from his moth
cr. His desk stood open, a letter to
me, which he wns writing, w as lying
on it,
The servant announced me as il/rs.
Andrews, my voice failing as I gave
my name, so that Mrs. Cartwright
held up her hands in astonishment
when she saw who it was.
‘iliy dear ! Nelly ! Has anything
happened? How ill you look ! What
is it? she exclaimed.
‘I want my husband,’ I gasped,
sinking on to a chair, for I thought 1
should have fallen.
Without another word Mrs. Cart¬
wright left the room; and i felt sure
now she guessed all about it, and I
can never thank her enough .for for¬
bearing to worry me with questions
as to what I had come for.
She came back in a few minutes
with a glass of wine, which she made
me drink of saying she would send
to meet me at once if-I took it.
f complied, and she went to fetch
him : in another minute 1 heard his
step outside the door, and then he
came in,
‘Nelly, my love, my darling ! what
is it?* he cried, as i rushed into his
outstretche > arms and hid my face
on his breast, sobbing bitterly.
For some moments I could not
speak, at last l recovered myself
enough to sob out:
‘Oh, Andrew, mv love ! my dear
love can you ever forgive me ! I came
to ask you, and tell you I can’t live
without you.’
I would have sai 1 more, but hie
/rinses stopped my mouth, and when
at length lie let me go, there were
}tber tears upon my cheeks beside
my own.
That was the happiest hour of my
life, in spite of ray tears, and before
my mother-in-law again joined us
which she discreetly avoided doing
till dinner time, I had poured out
all 1 had to tell into my husband s
ears, and 1 had learned from him
that he had left me to try what effects
his absence would have on me ; for he
had felt for sometime that my pride .
was the great barrier he had to over¬
come to win my love.
He had judged right He was too
generous to tell me how' much he had
suffered from my indifference, and I
know it must have grieved him terri¬
bly. He is a different man now, he
looks so happy, and I know he would
not change places with any one on
earth.
We went back to the rectory the
next day, but we could not persuade
i/rs. Cartwright to come w ith us ; she
said we were best alone, and I think
she was right.
A1 tho w « ddin * breakfast of WMte '
law Keid and Miss Mills tbe groom
K
for $503,000 from the father of the
bnde ; *' e ' T I" o: ' k P a Per. At the
wedding breakfast of a Chicago man
the groom found at his plate a slip of
P a P or ^ ... proved A to . . be tail »
> a j »
Ile gave it to the father of the
n ^ ^'d^fnrt^^WihTriilea^o * L
n >n
__ ,,, _____
Apiculture has been prohibited in
Paris. The Parisian says: One
would scarcely have expected to find
beehives in the great city. There are,
however, quantities in the neighbor-
hood of the markets and of the sugar
refineries, and Paris honey is quoted
as a first-class article, inasmuch as it
is .really hor\ey made by bees.'
i TEEMS-$1 50 A YEAft.
NO. 3 5 .
INTENSELY UTTER.
A few months ago the daughter of
a Rockland man) who has grown
comfortably well off in the small
grocery line, was sent away to a
‘female college,’ and t last week she
arrived home for the vacation.
The old man was in attendance at
the depot when the train arrived,
with the old horse in the delivery
wagon to convey his daughter and
her trunk to the house. When the
train stopped, a bewitching array of
dry- goods and a wide-brimmed hat
dashed from the car and flung itself
into the elder party’s arras.
‘Why, you superlative pal’ she
exclaimed ; ‘I'm ever so utterly glad
to see you,’
The old man was somewhat un¬
nerved by the greeting, but he recog¬
nized the seal-skin cloak in his grip
as the identical piece of property he
had paid for with the bay' mare, aud
he sort of squeezed it up in his arms,
and planted a kiss where it would do
the most good with a report that
sounded above the noise of the depot.
In a brief space of time the trunk
and its attendant baggage were load-
ed into the wagon, which was soon
bumping over the bubbles toward
home
•Da, dear,’ said the young Miss,
surveying the team with a critical
eve, *do yon consider this quite
excessively beyond?
•Hey? returned the old man with a
puzzled air;‘quite excessive beyond
what? Beyond Warren? I consider
it somewhat about ten miles bevond
d arron, countin’ from the Bath way,
‘
if that's what vou mean.’
•Oh, no. pa; you don’t understand
me,’ the daughter explained ; ‘I mean
this wagon and horse. Do you think
they are soulful?-do you think they
could be studied apart in the light of
a svmphonv, appear'as or even a simple poem,
and intensely utter to one
returning home, as one could ex-
g8 p.
. The old man twisted uneasily in
liia seat and uttered something about
lie believed it used to be used for an
express before he bought it to deliver
pork in, but the conversation seemed
to be traveling in such a lonesome
direction that he fetched the horse
a resounding cracfc on the rotunda,
and the severe jolting over the frozen
ground prevented further remarks.
‘Oh. „, there ,. is . that lovely ana , con-
summatema! , screamed , the returned ,
collegiatess, „ . . they , drew the ,
’ as up at
door, , and presently , she , was lost ... m
the embrace of a motherly J woman in .
spectacles. ,
‘V\ ell. Maria, said the old man at
the supper table as he , nipped . , a p.eee
of butter off the lump with his own
knife, 'an, bow’d you like your
school?
‘Well, th.re, pa, now you re sliou
-I mean I consider it far too be-
yond, replied the daughter. It is
unquenchably ineffable, The girls
are so sumptuously stunning-I mean
grand-so exquisite-so intense.
And then the parties, the balls and
the rides—oh, the past weeks have
been one sublime harmony.’
‘I s’pose so—I s pose so,’ nervous¬
ly assented the old man, as he reached
for his third cup. ‘Half full. Z?ut
how about your books —readin,’
writin,’ grammar, rule o’ three—how
about them?’
‘Pa, don’t!’ exclaimed tbe daughter
reproachfully. The rule o’ three!
Grammar! It is French and music
ana Painting and the divine in art
that have made my shool-life the
boss—I mean that have rendered
one unbroken flow of rhythmic bliss
i— incomparable and exquisitely ail
, but,’ •
j The grocery man and his wife
j looked helplessly at one another
across the table.
‘How do you like the biscuits,
Maria?’
| They are too-utter for anything,*
gushed the accomplished young lady*
and this plum preserve is a poem
within itself.’ *
The old man arose abruptly from
the table; fcfcd went out of the room,
rubbing his head irf a daz©5 affiT'
benumbed manner, and the Mass
ffonvention was dissolved, Tli at
night he and his wife sat alone by
th© stove until a late hour, and althfr
breakfast table the nett morning he
rapped smartly on his plate With the r
handle of his knife and remarked: ?
‘Maria—me an’ your mother haye
been talkin’ of the thing over, au‘
we’ve come to the conclusion that this
boardin' school business is too utter¬
ly all but too much nonsense. Jlfeii**
her consider that we haven't lived
sixty odd consummate years for the
purpose of raisin’ a cariosity, an
there’s goin* to be a stop put to this
unquenchable foolishness Now.
after you've finished catin’ that poem
of fried sausage, and that symphony
of twisted doughnut, you tane an’
dust up stairs in less than two
seconds, an’ peel otfthat fancy gown
a.ff put on a caliker, au‘ then come
an’ help your mother wash the dishes-
I want it distinctly understood that
there ain't goin* to be no more rhyth'*
mic foolishness in this house so long
as your superlative pa an’ your lovely
an’ consummate ma is a runnin’ the
ranch. You hear me, Maria?’
SAD INCIDENT OF THE FLOOD.
^ R oc p Gazette
Alexander Jasper, an old man from
Crittenden conntr, arrived in the city
last night, bringing with him Ins w.fo
and two boys. He seemed to be m
« ,eat distrea!s ‘ a,,d when questioned
by a Gazette man he told the follow-
nig story. You know, lie said, that
the whole country is under water*. I
am one of the sufferers of the flood. I
lived in tbe Mississippi bottom, not
* ftr ^ roEa Madison, f settled there
» ovcral vcars a S° aud< T cued a sma11
-
farm - 1 bad heard of high water, but
the place where I settled seemed to
be high, and 1 did not feel any fear,
' Ve,! - hi 8 h water calue re Peatedlv,
but ;t nevcr reac ' ,ed me ’ N, 8 l,t beforo
last wMle <W»«y *»
supper we were startled by a terrible
roar - 1 went t0 t!,e door and loo? ' ;cd
out but coa,d see nothin S’ wife
suggested that the noise might be
cauaed b J watcr - but 1 dld not P a 7
mucb attention to the remark, for i
did not sec bow watcr cou!d b f eak
through with such force. While 1
stood listening there came a mighty
rush and before I knew it the whole
country was flooded with water. I
called to my wife to help me secure
tbe childteu ’ 3 ’ he housc ,va9 ful1 of
water - 1 seized one little girl, and my
wifo scized the otUcr ’ The bou,e
moved, the lamp fell and was extin-
g u *s!icd. I called to my little boy,
and received a strangled reply. I
rushcd through ttie flood toward the
place 1 from which I thought T the sound
'
catae, and , called , again, but . no reply, t
The house wcut , to , pieces. . T I seized • i
wife .„ and , struggled . , . with .... her to .
my a
slight . elevation. - .. The roar was
deafening. , „ . W Tlr e remained . , there .. until ...
morning. ® IFhenlightcame.arush-
mg . torrent . . sweft r , over the .. site .. of ~ our
M , |ttIe bo was e .-
"st ___
__
A clergyman bis hat one even-
ing. and was obliged to go home with
a shabbier one, which was left in the
place of it . Next day ti.c hat was
rfc t urnet i by the penitent appropria*
tor who said . . I U never take a
minister . hat again Yo t think
6 . u can
wfaat q(Jeer things r Ve had rBDning
throng b mv bead ever since I put that
^ t Qn .
\V ASHINGTOX 4 N 0 TES—WA3HISG-
ton, March 2.—The Senate con-
firmed the nominations of Conkling
to the Supreme Bench and Sargent to
the German Mission. The President
nominated Cornelius A. Logan, of
Illinois, Envoy Extraordinary aud
Minister Plenipotentiary of the Uni-
ted States to Chile; John B. Weaser,
of North Carolina, to be United
States Consul at Bahia.
The vote on Conklings confirm*-
tion is understood to have been o‘J
yeas against 12 nays—8 Democrats
and four Republicans, namely. Hoar,
Dawes, Morrill aud Hawley. Sar-
gent’s nomination was confirmed
without division. The Senate also
confirmed William F. Poston, United
States Attorney for the Western I)is-
trict of 7enne c sec.