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‘neither wrote nor came to my sick bed. At my wil
GUY KENMORE’S WIFE. | 73
ing with boyish enthusiasm on the beauty and sweetness of my
young bride. My father heard me indulgently, and suffered me
to run on unchecked. At length we drank some wine together,
and I retired to rest in buoyant spirits, to dream of my darling,
who was so soon to be welcomed asa beloved daughter to my
father’s splendid home,
“Instead of awaking early the next morning to start on my
return to Klaine, as I had proposed doing, I slumbered on dcep-
ly and dreamlessly until noon. I awoke, burning with fever,
arched with thirst, and seriously ill almost to the verge of de-
irium. Physicians were summoned, who declared that a severe
‘and probably long attack of illness lay before me. I entreated
‘my father to write to my wife to come to me,.and was assured
that he had already done so. He received no reply. Elaine
d and urgent
solicitations he wrote again and again, receiving not a line in
reply. To allay my terrible anxiety, as soon as my illness tocka
turn for the better, my father went himself to bring my wife to
me.” ’ m4
He paused, and fixed his dark, sad eyes on Mrs. Leslie’s face.
Their intense, anguished gaze seemed to burn through her.
After a moment, he said, hollowly: mo
‘*My friend, he returned alone.”
“ she was not worthy your love,” Mrs. Leslie began, indig-
nantly. . oe
“Taste, and you shall judge,” he replied. ‘‘ After I left
Elaine, her parents by some means obtained aclew to her where-
abouts. They went to her, and, by dint of threats and persua-
sions, induced her to renounce me forever—me, her husband, who
lay languishing upon his sick bed, almost dying for a sight of her
worshiped face. |
His voice broke slightly here. After the lapse of sixteen years
_ memory was still potent to shake the iron self-possession he had
tried to build up against his sorrow. He collected himself with
an effort and resumed: :
‘* Cold, hard man as my father was, the tears of pity for his >
‘outraged son stood thickly in his eyes when he told me this story.
Elaine had gone home with her father and mother, but she sent
me a cold, hard letter, upbraiding me with having beguiled her
from her duty to her parents, and declaring that she would nev-
er live with me again, and never eyen wished to see again the
man who had persuaded her into an entanglement which now
she bitterly regretted and deplored.” .
‘* She was young and her parents unduly influenced her,” said
Mrs. Leslie, instinctively excusing the beautiful child-wife.
CHAPTER XXX1L
“‘Do you think so?” asked Mr. Stuart sadly. ‘‘ Yes, she was
very young, but that was a poor lovo that could thus lightly be
turned away from its object.” oe
‘And again he murmured hollowly from his favorite poet:
° .
‘