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‘
se GUY KENMORE’S WIFE.
“The aristocratic southern lady, who had never soiled her w1 ite,
_ jeweled fingers in useful toil, broke down and sobbed dismall. y at
~ the grievous prospect.
“‘Oh, I have had more than enough of trouble and sorrow in
my life,” she complained. ‘‘ First, there ‘was Elaine's disobedi-
ence and disgrace; then, losing our negroes by the war; then my
poor husband dying so suddenly, without a farewell word, and .
now this horrible nightmare, poverty! Oh! I have never deserved
these visitations of Providence,” asseverated the handsonie, self-
ish widow, energetically. a .
Bertha joined in these lamentations loudly. She would not
know how to work when it came to that, not she. They should
have to starve. . * /
Elaine regarded them with troubled eyes.
“Mamma, do not grieve so bitterly,” she said. “We are not .
come to absolute want yet.” .
“You take it very coolly,” Bertha sneered. “ When the last
few acres of land are sold, how long will the proceeds keep three
helpless women, pray?” :
Blaine did not answer Bertha—did not even look at her.” She
went up to her mother’s side.
‘““Mamma, I have foreseen this trouble coming,” she said,
‘““We have been living beyond our means for years, and even if
poor papa had lived this crash must have come some day; Tam
verry sorry,” sie repeated, gently.
- “Sorrows will not put money into our empty purses,” Mrs,
Brooke answered, spitefully.
“TJ know that,” Elaine answered, patiently. ‘‘ But I havea
- plan by which your money may be made to last a little longer. I
am going to leave you, mamma.”
‘Leave me,” Mrs. Brooke echoed, feebly. mo
‘‘Rats always desert a sinking ship,” flung in Bertha with
coarse irony.
Again her elder sister had no answer for her.
“‘lam going away,” she repeated. ‘‘Evenif papa had left us
a fortune it would be the same, I could not stay here after—all
‘that has happened.”
_ “You mean,”— said Mrs. Brooke, then paused.
“‘T mean since I have lost papa and Irene,” her daughter an-
swered, sadly. ‘‘ You know, mamma, you and Bertha have never
- been kind to me since my great—trouble. ._ You only tolerated
me because my father wished it. I_have long been in your
way. It is all over now.- To-morrow I shall leave you forever.” |
_ * Forever,” Mrs. Brooke repeated, blandly, while Bertha ex- |
claimed with a coarse, spiteful sneer: —
‘““You will return to the life of shame from which papa rescued /
you perhaps.”
“I am going to New York to earn my living by honest work,”
Elaine said, speaking pointedly to her mother. ‘You know I
have a good voice, and talent for music. I shall give music lessons,
probably.”
“My daughter giving music lessons! Oh, what a disgrace to —