LOVED 
 
 UM^SOUTHWORTH
 

 
 THE 
 UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 By MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH 
 
 Author of "Ishmael," "Self-Raised," "The Hidden Hand," 
 "The Bride's Fate," "The Changed Bride," Etc. 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS .-. NEW YORK
 
 Popular Books 
 
 By MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH 
 
 In Handsome Cloth Binding 
 
 Price 60 Cents per Volume 
 
 CAPITOLA'S PERIL 
 
 CRUEL AS THE GRAVE 
 
 "EM" 
 
 EM'S HUSBAND 
 
 FOR WHOSE SAKE 
 
 ISHMAEL 
 
 LILITH 
 
 THE BRIDE'S FATE 
 
 THE CHANGED BRIDES 
 
 THE HIDDEN HAND 
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 TRIED FOR HER LIFE 
 
 SELF-RAISED 
 
 WHY DID HE WED HER 
 
 For Sale by all Booksellers 
 or will be sent postpaid on receipt of price 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY PUBLISHERS 
 52 Duane Street New York 
 
 Copyright 1881 and 1890 
 By ROBERT BONNER'S SONS 
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 Printed by special arrangement with 
 STREET & SMITH
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE SUDDEN SUMMONS 
 
 IT was a splendid spectacle, that famous mas- 
 querade ball, which was given as the valedictory of 
 the old and the salutatory of the new year, at the 
 opening of one of the most brilliant seasons our 
 national capital had ever seen. 
 
 A great war had ended. 
 
 A renowned military commander was at the head of 
 our government, with a council selected from among 
 the most eminent statesmen of the nation, and a 
 diplomatic corps of the most distinguished ministers 
 from foreign countries. 
 
 Certain illustrious personages of royal rank or line- 
 age a Brazilian emperor, a Russian grand duke, and 
 a Bourbon prince were among the transient and 
 highly-honored guests of the city. 
 
 These, indeed, were but as blazing comets shooting 
 swiftly across the social firmament, exciting admira- 
 tion and disturbance rather than giving real pleasure 
 and satisfaction. 
 
 Besides these, there were gathered at the capital 
 the usual winter multitude of noted politicians, finan- 
 ciers, authors, artists, beaux, beauties, leaders of 
 fashion and queens of society. 
 
 These might be called the fixed stars of the period. 
 
 3
 
 4 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 Conspicuous among these bright lights of the world 
 were two who to carry out our figure of speech 
 might have been called the sun and the moon of that 
 empyrean; but they were termed the one the "lion," 
 and the other the "belle" of the season. 
 
 They were a gentleman and a lady; both young, 
 handsome, gifted and one wealthy. 
 
 The name of the first mentioned was Tudor Here- 
 ward. He was an accomplished scholar, an eloquent 
 orator, a rising statesman, and although but twenty- 
 seven years of age, he was already an able party 
 leader in the national House of Representatives. In 
 person he was tall, fair and stately, with severely per- 
 fect Grecian features that were scarcely lighted by 
 the cool, steel-blue eyes, and only slightly shaded by 
 the carefully-dressed light brown hair and trimly-cut 
 mustache. 
 
 His dress the stereotype suit of the hour was al- 
 ways faultlessly neat, and even fastidiously dainty. 
 
 His manners were reticent, reserved, and very cold, 
 except when he was warmed up in debate on the floor 
 of the House of Representatives, when he would often 
 seem to be transfigured, and inspired with a splendid 
 and burning eloquence. Men predicted for him an 
 illustrious future. He was now, as has been said, the 
 "lion" of the season. 
 
 The "belle" of the winter was Leda Von Kirsch- 
 berg, the only child and heiress of Jacob Von Kirsch- 
 berg, head of the great banking house of that name. 
 
 She was a beautiful, stately blonde, with a bril- 
 liantly blooming complexion, sparkling, purplish blue 
 eyes, a small aquiline nose, pouting ruby lips, and 
 shining, rippling auburn hair. 
 
 Her dresses were the happiest "inspirations" of 
 Worth and of Pingen, and the envy and despair of her 
 rivals. Her manners were at once dignified and gra- 
 cious.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 5 
 
 So much for the social status and personal appear- 
 ance of the "lion" and the "belle" of that resplendent 
 scene and season. 
 
 To say that nearly all the young ladies were more or 
 less infatuated with the "lion," and that quite all the 
 young men were much more than less madly in love 
 with the "belle," would be but a faint statement of 
 the situation. 
 
 And that these two pagan idols were sublimely in- 
 different to their many idolaters, and were utterly de- 
 voted to each other, was too humiliatingly apparent 
 to all to be questioned by any. 
 
 But ah! for "the cause of true love" if indeed their 
 mutual hallucination could be so called there was an 
 insurmountable obstacle in the way of its happy ter- 
 mination in marriage. 
 
 The belle of the season was a betrothed maiden! 
 
 The fact was not generally known, for it had not 
 been ostentatiously announced in the society column 
 of the newspapers, but Miss Von Kirschberg was 
 really engaged to be married to Mr. Nicholas Bruyin, 
 a millionaire, much richer and very much older than 
 her own father. 
 
 So you see! 
 
 The ancient bridegroom-expectant had not come 
 with the widowed father and motherless daughter to 
 Washington, so that few in the city knew of the great 
 man's existence, and none knew of his relations to the 
 beauty and heiress. 
 
 Least of all did Tudor Hereward, her devoted 
 knight, suspect the truth. For if he had done so, 
 be sure that his fine sense of honor would have for- 
 bidden him to trespass on the sacred rights of the be- 
 trothed lover by too marked attentions to the be- 
 trothed maiden. 
 
 No! Tudor Hereward was ignorant in seeking and
 
 6 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 innocent in winning the impassioned heart of Leda 
 Von Kirschberg. 
 
 Why she had concealed the fact of her marriage en- 
 gagement, and why she had encouraged and even in- 
 vited the exclusive attentions of Mr. Hereward, is, 
 perhaps, not difficult to understand. 
 
 In the first instance it was probably nothing more 
 than vanity prompted her to seek to attract and mon- 
 opolize the attentions of the most brilliant society 
 man at the capital. Possibly she meant no harm at all, 
 and had no ultimate object in view. But she who 
 plays at "flirting" plays with fire. 
 
 Before she was well aware of the truth, she had not 
 only captivated the fancy and imagination of the 
 famous young statesman, but she had irrevocably lost 
 to him her own vanity-full heart! 
 
 But that she had no intention of giving him her 
 hand was soon quite apparent. 
 
 The night of the last day in the old year, the night 
 of the masquerade ball, given by Senator S., in his 
 splendid new mansion in the northwest quarter of the 
 city, was destined to decide their fate. 
 
 Miss Von Kirschberg and Mr. Tudor Hereward 
 were, of course, among the invited guests. 
 
 He took no character. It would not have been in 
 harmony with his proud, fastidious nature to play 
 any part, or, at least, any conspicuous part in such a 
 harlequinade. 
 
 He merely covered his usual evening dress with an 
 inscrutable black domino of fine cashmere, and his 
 handsome face with a black mask of fine velvet. 
 
 She by some subtle sympathy divining his 
 thoughts and intentions on the subject also eschewed 
 the queens, gipsies, peasants, nuns, and nights and 
 mornings, into which the ladies would try to trans- 
 form themselves for one evening only, and over her
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 7 
 
 dress she wore a white silk domino, and over her fair 
 face a white mask of satin and lace. 
 
 Neither had received any intimation of the other's 
 disguise, yet the same subtle sympathy which had 
 directed their costume for the evening brought them 
 together through the immense crowd of maskers that 
 filled all the reception-rooms, dancing-rooms, supper- 
 rooms and conservatories, and overflowed into the 
 halls, balconies, piazzas, and even into the glass- 
 roofed winter garden on the grounds. 
 
 Through all of these a kaleidoscopic panorama was 
 perpetually passing. 
 
 Kings, peasants, popes, brigands, angels, bayaderes, 
 nuns, sultanas, judges, bandits, chimney sweeps, 
 flower girls, beggars, heathen gods and goddesses, 
 nights and days, and many other antagonisms, jostled 
 each other. 
 
 Truly Democratic, Republican and Communistic 
 conventions are rolled into one in your large mas- 
 querade ball, which is also chaotic, anarchic, and an- 
 achronistic, since it jumbles together all parts of the 
 world, all dates of history, and all ranks of people. 
 
 Dazzling light and deafening music were streaming 
 through every window of the crowded mansion when 
 the black domino passed out of the conservatory, en- 
 tered the winter garden, and looked about him. 
 
 Here were no lighted lamps, for the moonshine pour- 
 ing in through the glass roof flooded the wonderful, 
 beautiful scene with a soft bright radiance. 
 
 The black domino stood peering down the lovely 
 walks, bordered with evergreens and hardy roses in 
 full bloom. His eyes were searching for the "swan," 
 as he mentally called a lovely, white form whom he 
 had been watching all the evening, and whom he 
 had seen glide through the crowded room out of the 
 house, and in the direction of the winter garden. 
 
 He had followed her slowly and with difficulty, for
 
 8 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 he could not slip through a "jam" as easily as she had 
 done. 
 
 Now, in this freer space and purer air, he hoped to 
 find her. 
 
 But she was nowhere to be seen. There seemed to 
 be no one in the garden. 
 
 Nevertheless, he walked down between the hedges 
 of blooming roses until he saw, in a corner of the rear 
 hedge, an arbor of climbing roses, in the midst of 
 which his eyes caught a gleam of silvery raiment. 
 
 He hastened directly to the spot, and found her 
 there. 
 
 She was reclining on the rustic seat, and had taken 
 off her mask for air, revealing the fair, proud face of 
 Leda Von Kirschberg. 
 
 He had not expected this revelation of her identity, 
 and he felt that his presence at this moment might be 
 considered an inexcusable intrusion upon the privacy 
 of the lady. 
 
 "Leda," he said, deprecatingly, as he stood before 
 her and removed his own mask, "please to pardon my 
 indiscretion, but I have been trying to make an oppor- 
 tunity for speaking with you all the evening in fact, 
 all the day but have not succeeded even in seeing 
 you until to-night." 
 
 "Tudor, sit down here for a little while. The rooms 
 were so warm and the crowds so dense that I felt like 
 suffocating, so I came out here to unmask and inhale a 
 breath of fresh air," she said, as she smilingly made 
 room for him beside her. 
 
 "I am very glad you did so! I presumed to follow 
 you. Do you forgive me for my presumption?'' he 
 inquired, as he bowed and took the offered seat. 
 
 "That depends," she answered, archly. "How could 
 you know me to follow me? Or were you, perhaps, 
 following an unknown white domino that had caught 
 your flitting fancy?"
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 9 
 
 "How could I know you?" he repeated, gravely, tak- 
 ing her hand and fixing his eyes on her lovely face 
 How could I know you? By the same simple, univer- 
 sal law of nature through which I know myself for 
 you are my sweeter, purer, higher self! Leda, my 
 queen, do you imagine that any disguise could hide 
 you from my knowledge? My heart would always 
 recognize you> Leda!" 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Hereward!" she murmured, in a low, dis- 
 tressed tone, whose meaning he could not have per- 
 ceived, for he went on to plead: 
 
 "I have been seeking you for many hours, my love, 
 my queen! Not to tell you in set speech that which my 
 whole life in your dear presence has been telling you 
 ever since we first met, and in that meeting recognized 
 each other! Ah, lady mine! Ever since that sacred 
 moment of meeting and mutual recognition, I have 
 been tempted to believe in the old heathen myth, that 
 man and woman were originally one being; but that 
 Jove, in a rage, cleft them in two, leaving the halves 
 to seek each other sorrowing through all the ages! 
 To seek in vain as we see by all the mismatched 
 couples in this lower world except in such happy 
 cases as ours; for, sweet lady, I have found my com- 
 pletion in you and you yours in me. And we know it 
 now!" 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Hereward!" she moaned, in an almost in- 
 audible tone. 
 
 "Thus, dear Leda, I have not followed you here to 
 tell you that which you feel and know so well, but only 
 to ask your permission to speak at once to your good 
 father and invoke his blessing on our betrothal. But 
 even this I scarcely need to mention for surely I 
 know I have your sanction for it." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Hereward! Pray, pray do not talk to me 
 in this manner!" she moaned, in agitation, as she with-
 
 10 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 drew her hand from his fond clasp and covered her 
 white face. 
 
 He gazed on her in surprise and uneasiness, yet 
 scarcely taking in the full meaning of her words. 
 
 But why? Why may I not speak to you in this 
 way? Why, Leda? Why?" he inquired, trying to take 
 her hand again. 
 
 She drew it away as she faltered: 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Hereward! Because because we are only 
 friends! And we can never be more to each other 
 than friends! Though I hope," she added, pleadingly, 
 "that we may always be just such dear friends as we 
 are and have been! Shall we not?" she prayed, drop- 
 ping her hands and raising her eyes appealingly to 
 his stern, set look. 
 
 He met her glance, he gazed on her white cheeks and 
 trembling form, fixedly, incisively, with incredulous 
 amazement and indignation in every feature of his 
 firm, handsome face, for no part of her previous de- 
 meanor towards him had prepared his mind for this 
 unexpected repulse. 
 
 "Miss Von Kirschberg, how is this? It cannot be 
 that I hear you aright!" he said. 
 
 "Ah, yes, you do, Mr. Hereward! You hear me 
 aright," she sighed. 
 
 "And we can be no more than friends?" he said, 
 drawing in a hard breath. "Is this true?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, Mr. Hereward! It is true! And it is 
 heart breaking!" she moaned, in a voice full of tears. 
 
 "Leda! In the name of Heaven! what do you 
 mean? Explain yourself, I implore you!" he prayed, 
 in an agony of sorrow, anxiety and confusion. 
 
 "I mean I mean oh, Tudor! My heart is broken!" 
 And she dropped her head on her bosom and again 
 covered her face with her hands. 
 
 "Leda! Leda!" he cried, with anguish. 
 
 "Oh, Tudor! Our friendship has been so precious,
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 11] 
 
 so delightful to me! And and all our communion 
 has been so improving, purifying, elevating to my soul. 
 I am so much less vain, selfish and frivolous than 
 when you first met me, the spoiled child of fortune. 
 Our precious, delightful friendship has saved and re- 
 deemed me! And and I pray that I may enjoy it 
 forever. But but it must be only friendship," she 
 said, while heavy, sobbing sighs shook her bosom, and 
 streams of tears forced themselves through the 
 slender fingers that covered her face. 
 
 "Leda!" he exclaimed, in bitter pain, "you knew my 
 love, my hopes, my aspirations! And you led me on 
 and on to the brink of this humiliating overthrow. 
 Ah! how cruelly and bitterly you have deceived me!" 
 
 "Oh, do not reproach me! Do not break a bruised 
 and aching heart! If I have deceived you it was be- 
 cause I had first deceived myself. What knew I of my 
 own untried nature? Nothing, or next to nothing, 
 when we first met!" 
 
 "Leda! Leda!" 
 
 "Let me speak! You have charged me and you 
 must hear me!" 
 
 "Speak, then! Defend your conduct if you can do 
 it!" 
 
 "We met by chance in general society. We did not 
 seek to meet. We knew nothing of each other until 
 fate brought us together. Then we were mutually 
 pleased. Oh, how natural! Our tastes, sympathies, 
 opinions, were in harmony. We seemed to belong to 
 each other. We became better friends, more intimate 
 companions. It was inevitable." 
 
 "And deplorable," muttered Here ward, between his 
 set teeth. 
 
 She continued: 
 
 "I found your society so precious, improving, de- 
 lightful ! I saw no harm, no danger or disappointment 
 in the enjoyment of it. And so and so I drifted
 
 12 
 
 drifted into caring more for you than I had any legal 
 or moral right to do! Ah, do not blame me for de- 
 ceiving you, my friend! I first so fatally deceived 
 myself!" pleaded the lady, in heart-broken tones. 
 
 "I do not wish to blame you, and I will not do so if 
 I can help ii \ But, Leda, in the name of Heaven, what 
 do you mean by saying that you have no legal or moral 
 right to care for me?" 
 
 "As I do and as I must care, for I cannot change my 
 heart, though I can govern my conduct." 
 
 "But you do not answer me." 
 
 "Oh, Tudor! Tudor! How shall I tell you that 
 that before I came down here I was was be- 
 trothed to Mr. Nicholas Bruyin," she faltered, in an 
 almost expiring voice, as she raised her arm and hid 
 her face behind the wide flowing sleeve of her domino, 
 as if shrinking from the eyes of her lover. 
 
 "Mr. Nicholas Bruyin? Son or grandson of the 
 great financier, I suppose," he said, in a low, cold, 
 hard tone. 
 
 "The 'great financier,' as you call him, himself. He 
 has no son or grandson. He is a bachelor," she ex- 
 plained, in a steadier voice, for now that she had told 
 the worst, she was beginning to recover her self-com- 
 mand. 
 
 "The great financier himself!" exclaimed Tudor 
 Hereward, with a bitter laugh. 
 
 "Yes," sighed Leda. 
 
 "Why, he must be at least seventy years of age!" 
 
 "He is seventy-one." 
 
 "Quite old enough to be your grandfather." 
 
 "Quite old enough." 
 
 "And this, then, is your lover, Miss Von Kirsch- 
 berg!" he said, in bitter irony. 
 
 "My betrothed husband," amended the young lady. 
 
 Tudor Hereward broke into another harsh laugh.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 13 
 
 Leda Von Kirschberg bowed her head in humilia- 
 tion. 
 
 "And no disparity of age, no uncongeniality of 
 habits, no incompatibility of mind should have been 
 cause sufficient to prevent the thought of such un- 
 natural and degrading betrothal!" he said, in stern 
 condemnation. 
 
 "No," she answered, sorrowfully. "No, and now it 
 is too late to remedy the evil. For with us children of 
 the Fatherland betrothal is held scarcely less sacred 
 and binding than marriage itself. So, you know, I 
 am compelled to marry the aged man." 
 
 "Good-bye, Miss Von Kirschberg," he said, coldly, 
 as he arose to leave the arbor. 
 
 "Oh, Tudor!" she pleaded, clasping her hands and 
 raising her eyes to his face. "Do not go away in 
 anger! Do not condemn me utterly! Listen to me! 
 Hear my defence yet farther! When I was betrothed 
 to Mr. Bruyin I was but a child, ignorant of myself, 
 despite my twenty years. He was my father's dearest 
 friend and our most frequent visitor, and " 
 
 "The richest as well as the oldest and ugliest man 
 of your acquaintance," sneered Tudor Hereward. 
 
 "He was kinder to me than any one else in the 
 world except my dear father," she continued, disre- 
 garding his sarcasm, or seeming to do so, "and I was 
 grateful to the old gentleman, and was even fond of 
 him, as children are fond of an old uncle, or a grand- 
 father. And so to please him and my father I con- 
 sented to become his wife. How should I have known 
 any better?" 
 
 "Will you permit me to say good-evening to you 
 now, Miss Von Kirschberg?" he demanded, icily. 
 
 "No; for it is not my fault that we part at all! And 
 not my wish that we part in this way! Oh! Tudor, 
 have some consideration for me! I have given you 
 all that I could give. More, indeed, than I had any
 
 14 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 sort of right to give. I have given you all my society 
 since I have been here all my friendship since we 
 first met. Oh! my friend, do not part in malice from 
 me! Do not quite abandon me! Do sot, after lifting 
 me somewhat above self and the world, do not leave 
 me to sink again into their perdition! Though we 
 may be no more than friends, still let us be friends. 
 Oh, Tudor! shall we not be friends as we have been?'' 
 
 She was wringing her white hands together, and 
 pouring her whole soul through the violet splendor of 
 her eyes that were raised tearfully, prayerfully to his. 
 
 He was standing before her, regarding her firmly, 
 sternly. 
 
 "No, Miss Von Kirschberg," he answered, coldly, 
 "we can not be friends, such as we have been! There 
 is a plain piece of folk-lore among the country people 
 of my old home to the effect that 'Friendship some- 
 times turns to love, but love to friendship never!' 
 I believe the proverb to be true. As for me, I am too 
 much in earnest for such trifling. I cannot be merely 
 the friend of the woman to whom I have given my 
 whole heart. I must be her husband, or a stranger to 
 her! Her husband, or nothing to her!" 
 
 "Ah, Heaven! Ah, Heaven!" moaned the lady, pale 
 with sorrow. "Even the friendship that could be no 
 sin even the friendship that might be my salvation is 
 denied me! Oh, why should this be?" 
 
 "Because, Miss Von Kirschberg," he answered, re- 
 lentlessly, "I do not belong to this new school of 
 sentiment and philosophy! I am a plain countryman, 
 an old-fashioned Christian, one who holds the mar- 
 riage bond to be a very sacred thing, and believes 
 that the wife has no right to cultivate a sentimental 
 friendship with any man except her husband, for that 
 such a deviation from her allegiance would be both 
 sinful and dangerous." 
 
 "Oh! would to Heaven!" she cried, clasping her
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 15 
 
 hands in the earnestness of her aspiration, "would to 
 Heaven I might have been your " 
 
 "Hush, Miss Von Kirschberg! Do not finish that 
 sentence! It is better left incomplete!" he said, in 
 his stern integrity. 
 
 "I was only about to add that if I had had the com- 
 plete happiness of being your wife, I should not then 
 have needed the friendship of any other human being! 
 I should have been perfectly satisfied with your love 
 alone!" And she ended with a sobbing sigh. 
 
 "Then you had better not have said it! I am sorry 
 that you have. Again good-bye, Miss Von Kirsch- 
 berg! I hope you may be happy." 
 
 And he turned to leave her. 
 
 "Stay! Oh, stay!" she implored, laying her white 
 hand on the sleeve of his domino. 
 
 "What can I do for you, Miss Von Kirschberg?" he 
 coldly inquired. 
 
 "Promise me that you will not let any memory of me 
 mar your life " 
 
 He looked at her curiously, but did not speak. 
 
 "Promise me," she continued, "that you will some 
 time marry and forget me!" 
 
 If this speech was a ruse to get at his present 
 thoughts and feelings, it was a vain one. If she ex- 
 pected to hear him protest that though he left her 
 and repudiated her friendship, yet he should never 
 be able to forget her, and certainly since he could 
 not marry her he should never marry any one if she 
 expected to hear him say this, she was much mistaken 
 and deeply disappointed, for he laughed lightly and 
 answered : 
 
 "No! I shall cherish no morbid memories to mar the 
 life for which I am responsible to the Lord. I shall 
 probably, in time, marry some true-hearted young 
 woman, whom I shall endeavor to make contented. 
 Yes, I shall marry, if only to raise another bar be-
 
 16 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 tween myself and this my first romance, and, I hope, 
 my last folly, upon which I now turn my back for- 
 ever! Once more, good-night, Miss Von Kirschberg," 
 said Tudor Hereward, as he walked away. 
 
 His mind was full of conflicting emotions of wrath 
 and pity for the bowed and wretched woman he had 
 left behind, and whose heart, when divided between 
 love and lucre, had given her deliberate choice to 
 lucre. 
 
 He went on through the winter garden, towards the 
 illuminated house, from which music still pealed, and 
 through which crowds of gayly and fantastically- 
 dressed people still passed. 
 
 He entered through the conservatory, and then, 
 without waiting for the supper, at which the guests 
 were expected to unmask, without even taking leave 
 of his host or hostess for not knowing what char- 
 acters they had assumed or where to find them, he 
 could not have done so he left the house and bent 
 his steps towards his hotel. 
 
 It was yet so early that the hotel was still open. 
 
 As he passed in through the office the clerk called 
 to him. 
 
 "A telegram waiting for you here, sir." 
 
 Tudor Hereward reached his hand for the message 
 without the slightest misgiving. He was in the habit 
 of receiving telegrams, generally on political affairs. 
 
 He tore open the envelope of this one, and took it to 
 the gaslight over the clerk's desk and read as follows: 
 
 CLOUD CLIFFS, W. Va., 9 P. M., Dec. 31st, 18 . 
 To THE HON. TUDOR HEREWARD, Hotel, Wash- 
 ington City. Your father is very ill. He begs you to 
 come home at once. LILITH WYVIL. 
 
 Tudor Hereward stood very pale and still while his 
 eyes were riveted on the lines before him.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE IT 
 
 Then with a start he rallied himself and went to the 
 desk and wrote the following answer: 
 
 WASHINGTON CITY, 11.30 P. M., Dec. 31st, 18 . 
 Miss LILITH WTVIL, Cloud Cliffs, Frosthill, W. Va. 
 Yours just received. Will leave for home by 12 M. 
 train. TUDOR HEREWARD. 
 
 He dispatched this by the messenger boy, ordered a 
 carriage to be at the door in fifteen minutes, and hur- 
 ried to his room to pack his valise. 
 
 And in less than half an hour afterwards Tudor 
 Hereward was seated in a Pullman parlor car on the 
 midnight express train of the Baltimore and Ohio 
 Railroad, flying onwards towards his patrimonial 
 home in the mountain regions of West Virginia, 
 whither we must precede him. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 LILITH 
 
 IT was a very handsome chamber, notwithstanding 
 that the furniture was somewhat old-fashioned, worn 
 and faded. 
 
 Purple damask curtains draped the four tall win- 
 dows two on the east front, and two on the south 
 side. Purple draperies canopied the rosewood bed- 
 stead, and covered the cushions of the chairs and 
 sofa. 
 
 Turkey rugs lay on the polished yellow pine floor 
 wherever they were most useful before the dressing 
 bureau that stood between the two front windows on 
 the east; before the sofa that sat below the side win- 
 dows on the south; before the fireplace, in which a fine
 
 18 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 hickory wood fire burned, on the west; and on each 
 side of the bedstead, that stood with its head to the 
 north. 
 
 And on the bed lay a very handsome man, in the 
 prime of life, though the mortal pallor of his face 
 showed that he was smitten unto death; a man who at 
 first sight might have been taken for Tudor Hereward, 
 so strong was the resemblance between the two. 
 
 And Tudor Hereward he was in fact Tudor Here- 
 ward, Senior. 
 
 He was sleeping now, and his face w r as shaded from 
 the fire-light by a tall purple screen that stood be- 
 tween his bedstead and the fireplace. 
 
 Before the fire, in a deep easy chair, reclined a 
 young girl, robed in a white wrapper. 
 
 Her lovely face and form, w r ith the glow of the fire- 
 light upon it, and w r ith the background of the purple- 
 draped chair, throwing out in relief the graceful 
 white-robed figure, made a very beautiful picture. 
 
 Her hands were clasped in her lap; her head was 
 bowed on her bosom; her eyelids drooped over the 
 dark eyes until their long, thick lashes lay like 
 shadows on the oval, white cheeks. Her jet black hair, 
 escaped from its fastenings, rippled down in long 
 tresses upon her shoulders and bosom. 
 
 She seemed to be sleeping, but she was not so, for 
 the faintest stir or sigh from the man on the bed in- 
 stantly aroused her. 
 
 Everything in the room was motionless, except the 
 flickering flames on the hearth that sent up weird, 
 dancing lights and shadows on the whitewashed wall 
 and purple-draped windows. And all was so silent 
 that the ticking of a watch on the distant dressing- 
 table could be distinctly heard. 
 
 "Lilith." 
 
 The voice that came from the weak man on the bed
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 19 
 
 was so faint that none but the most attentive ear 
 could have heard it. 
 
 "Lilith." 
 
 "Yes, father," she answered, softly, as she arose 
 and glided noiselessly to his bedside, and took his 
 pallid hand in hers. 
 
 "Have I slept long, darling?" 
 
 "Since seven o'clock. It has been a refreshing sleep, 
 I hope. You feel better?" 
 
 "A little. What o'clock is it, dearest?" 
 
 "It is after five. It will soon be light now. I wish 
 you a Happy New Year, father," she said, but her 
 voice faltered as she thought of what the New Year 
 might bring to them. 
 
 "Yes, love; a Happy New Year for us both, 
 
 'Whichever side the grave for me 
 The morning light shall break,' " 
 
 he answered, gravely and sweetly. 
 
 Lilith stooped and pressed her lips to his pallid 
 brow. She could scarcely keep back her tears. 
 
 "You sent the telegram to Tudor?" 
 
 "Yes, father. I started Alick with it to Frosttiill." 
 
 "Has any answer come?" 
 
 "Yes, father. I told Alick to wait at the office until 
 it came, and then to hurry home with it. Mr. Here- 
 ward left by the midnight express from Washington, 
 and will be here this forenoon. I have already sent 
 Stephen in the gig to meet him at the station." 
 
 "He will be here in a few hours, then. Is everything 
 prepared for his arrival? His room aired? A fire kin- 
 dled ia it? and But of course, of course; for yon 
 never forget nor neglect anything, darling, least of all 
 Tudor's comfort, or mine. Give me your hand, Lilith, 
 sweetest heart that ever was!" he said, clasping the 
 little white hand that she laid in his.
 
 20 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Will you take something now, father? I have 
 some fresh port wine whey ready." 
 
 "Yes, dear," he answered, faintly, for he was al- 
 ready fatigued with this brief talk. 
 
 She went and took up a covered china pitcher from 
 the hearth, poured some of its contents into a glass, 
 and brought it to him. She slipped one hand under his 
 pillow to raise his head a little while she gave the 
 refreshment. 
 
 After he had taken sufficient she put away the glass 
 out of sight, brought fresh water scented with laven- 
 der, sponged off his face and hands, changed his pil- 
 lows, and laid him comfortably to rest. 
 
 Then she moved noiselessly about the room, putting 
 everything in order. 
 
 Finally she resumed her seat in the easy chair be- 
 fore the fire. 
 
 Her patient lay perfectly quiet, and she thought 
 that he slept again. But he had not composed himself 
 to the rest she had hoped for him. 
 
 "Come sit by me a little while, Lilith, my darling," 
 he said. 
 
 She arose, and went and sat on the side of his bed. 
 
 "Give me your hand, my precious," he said. And he 
 closely clasped the hand she placed in his, and pressed 
 it to his face. 
 
 "My sweet child! My dear, good, faithful daughter! 
 What should I have done without you? I pray our 
 Lord to bless you, my Lilith," he whispered. 
 
 "Dearest, best father in this world, our Lord has 
 blessed me through you. How much do I not owe you? 
 How would my seventeen years of life have passed but 
 for you? My infancy in some almshouse; my child- 
 hood and youth in some hard taskmaster's shop or 
 task-mistress' kitchen. This must have been my fate 
 but for you, who rescued me from it, and gave me a 
 father's love, a happy home, and a good education.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 21 
 
 All and every blessing that I enjoy in this world, 
 under the Divine Providence, I owe to you," warmly 
 responded the girl. 
 
 "Hush, Lilith! Hush, my darling! Forget all that. 
 You are my beloved child." 
 
 "By charitable adoption," murmured the girl. 
 
 "No; but by the most sacred claim that a child could 
 have upon a man, not even except that of birthright. 
 And even if this had not been true if this had been 
 otherwise, and instead of the most sacred claim you 
 had upon my love and care, you had had none what- 
 ever still, Lilith, still, my dearest, you have been so 
 much to me a loving child, a tender nurse, a 
 guardian angel!" 
 
 "Do not say so of me, dear father of such a poor 
 one as I am." 
 
 "It is no impiety and no exaggeration to say that, 
 my darling, for the greatest blessing of my life you are 
 and have always been, my precious one." 
 
 "Your praises humble me, father, because I feel so 
 unworthy of them." 
 
 "Why so, in the name of truth?" 
 
 "I think of my many shortcomings my failures. 
 But do not talk any more now, dear. I can see that it 
 tires you to do so. Try to rest again." 
 
 "Ah, Lilith! there will be time enough to rest 
 afterwards. It is near seven o'clock, is it not?" 
 
 "Within ten minutes," she replied, after looking at 
 her watch. 
 
 "And Tudor will be here in three hours." 
 
 "Yes, I think so. I told Stephen to put the best 
 horse in the gig when he went to the station to meet 
 him." 
 
 "I shall not sleep until he comes. I feel so anxious 
 to see him. I have so much to say to him." 
 
 "Shall I open the shutters now, dear father? Or 
 would you rather they should remain closed?"
 
 22 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Oh, open them, by all means, love! I should like to 
 see the sun rise once more." 
 
 "Many times more, dearest father! And this is the 
 New Year's sun, you know," said Lilith, trying to com- 
 mand her voice and to speak cheerfully. 
 
 "The New Year's sun! So we must greet it." 
 
 Lilith arose and opened the east windows which 
 were on the side of his bed, whose head was to the 
 north and let in the first faint light of the winter day 
 that was dawning redly above the cloud-capped, snow- 
 covered cliffs that shut in this little valley, and tinge- 
 ing its mists with a roseate hue. 
 
 Then she extinguished the night light, replenishing 
 the fire, and resumed her seat by the bed. 
 
 The patient had turned his face to the east and was 
 gazing out upon the brightening dawn. 
 
 But when the little figure sat down beside him, he 
 turned his eyes upon her and inquired: 
 
 "Lilith, dear, have you slept during the night?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, father!" cheerfully answered the girl. 
 
 "How and where, I would like to know," he de- 
 manded incredulously. 
 
 "Oh I I slept very comfortably, in the easy chair 
 before the fire," she answered, hesitatingly. 
 
 "And you started up wide awake and came to look 
 at me every time I stirred in my sleep! I know you 
 did just as well as if I had seen and heard you! Oh, 
 yes, my dear, I know just how comfortably you slept 
 ,last night in that arm-chair before the fire!" he added, 
 in a dissatisfied tone. 
 
 "I do not feel tired this morning, dear father, in- 
 deed I do not." 
 
 "Lilith, I wish you would go to your room and lie 
 down, and send Nancy to me." 
 
 "Dear father, Tudor will soon be here, and when he 
 comes I will give up my watch to your son, but to no 
 one except him."
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 23 
 
 "Ah, Lilith, my faithful daughter!" he murmured, 
 with a sigh. "If your future were but assured " 
 
 "Dear father, it is assured, being, like all our 
 future, in the hands of the Divine Providence! You 
 know that, since you it was who taught me the faith!" 
 
 "Ah, yes! But in times of weakness and danger and 
 uncertainty, we are so apt to fall from the faith. The 
 Apostle Paul feared that while he preached to others 
 he might be himself a castaway. Shakespeare's 
 heroine confessed that she could teach twenty what 
 were good to be done, rather than be one of the 
 twenty to follow her ow r n teaching." 
 
 "Dear father, are you not talking too much? Had 
 you not better rest?" 
 
 "I cannot rest, dear. I am thinking of you. Ah! if 
 I had lived longer if I could have lived to be an old 
 man, I should have made or saved a fortune for you, 
 Lilith. But now I have nothing to leave you, my child, 
 because I have nothing nothing of my own. I have 
 only a life interest in this estate, which came with my 
 late wife, Tudor's mother, and goes to him entire at 
 my death. I have no power even to leave you a home, 
 my poor little daughter," he added, with a deep sigh. 
 
 "Dearest dear," she murmured, laying her fresh 
 cheek against the wasted one of the sinking man, "do 
 not be troubled concerning me. I am not a bit 
 troubled about myself. I have no fears for the future 
 none!" 
 
 "No! Children have no fears for the future because 
 they have no knowledge of the world. They have, in- 
 deed, an unconscious faith. Ah, well! The Highest 
 has declared that 'Unless ye become as little children 
 ye shall not see the Kingdom of God.' And that is 
 evident, since anxious care, no more than envy, hatred 
 or malice, or any other form of selfishness, can never 
 see the Kingdom of Heaven."
 
 84 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Dearest fattier, you are fast exhausting yourself. 
 Try to get a little rest before your son arrives." 
 
 "I cannot. I am thinking of you, I say. Lilith! 
 there is only one way in which I could leave you in 
 perfect peace! Do you know what way that would 
 be?" 
 
 "No, dear; but do not be troubled. I am not." 
 
 "No, of course not. Children never are, as I said be- 
 fore. Lilith! listen to me, my darling. I could depart 
 in peace if I could leave you THE WIFE OF MY SON." 
 
 Lilith started suddenly and blushed over face, neck 
 and bosom. 
 
 He was watching her anxiously; he saw her emo- 
 tion, and gave it an interpretation favorable to his 
 wishes. He continued, at the risk of exhausting his 
 little remaining strength: 
 
 "I believe that Tudor loves you and will ask you to 
 marry him without delay, so as to give him the legal 
 and moral right to protect you when I shall have 
 passed away, and, oh, my dear child, I hope and pray 
 that your answer may be such as to give him hap- 
 piness and me peace." 
 
 Lilith could not speak. She dropped her head upon 
 her bosom and covered her face with her trembling 
 hands; but the vivid blush that had deepened over 
 face, neck and bosom proved a sufficient answer. 
 
 "Being Tudor's father, I might be thought too par- 
 tial a judge; for I think him one of the most excellent 
 men of the earth pure, true, wise, good and brave. 
 Even if he were not my own son, yet knowing him as 
 I do know him, of all the men in the world, I should 
 prefer him to be the husband of my darling girl." 
 
 "But, oh, sir, I am not worthy I am not suitable 
 in any way to be your son's wife," faltered the young 
 girl, in an almost inaudible voice, while she was paling, 
 flushing and trembling with uncontrollable agitation.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 25 
 
 "Not worthy, Lilith! You not worthy!" he mut- 
 tered, gazing steadily at her trembling frame. 
 
 "Oh, no! no! no! I was but a poor laboring man's 
 child, and but for your charity I should now be a 
 pauper or a servant. Your son comes of one of the 
 oldest and proudest families in the country, descended 
 through you from the most ancient Saxon nobles, and 
 through his mother from an even prouder race, a 
 royal one the old English kings. And he has all the 
 hereditary pride of his race. It would not be fitting 
 he would not think it fitting that he should marry a 
 laborer's daughter." 
 
 "Hush, Lilith! Hush! You distress me, child. You 
 are my daughter. I have adopted and brought you up. 
 For years it has been my dearest wish that you should 
 become the wife of my son, who loves and esteems you 
 as you deserve. You are of all women in the w r orld the 
 most worthy of him, as he of all men in the world is 
 the most deserving of you. You seem to have been 
 'made for each other,' as the country people say. To 
 be sure, my darling, you are 'over young to marry 
 yet,' nor should I wish you to wed for three or four 
 years to come were I not about to leave you unpro- 
 tected in the world. And so, my beloved child, be- 
 fore I depart I must see you the happy wife of my 
 good son." 
 
 He looked at her wistfully as he spoke, and at that 
 moment the first rays of the rising sun streamed 
 through the clouds that capped the cliffs, glanced 
 through the east window, and illumined the bowed 
 head and white-robed form of the girl. 
 
 "It is a good omen. All is well," murmured Tudor 
 Hereward, as he turned over and dropped into the sud- 
 den, swoon-like sleep of the dying. 
 
 After a few minutes Lilith arose softly and bent 
 over him. 
 
 "Thank dear Heaven, he sleeps well. And he must
 
 26 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 not be awakened even for his son," she murmured to 
 herself, as she noiselessly crossed the room and let 
 down the purple curtains, to temper the bright sun- 
 shine. 
 
 "His son's wife!" she murmured softly to herself, 
 while a flitting blush played over her lovely face. 
 "His son's wife Tudor's wife! Oh, my dear father! 
 to wish such happiness for me! A happiness I dare 
 not dream of no, no, indeed I dare not dream of," 
 she added, hastily, fearfully, as she pushed the black 
 curls away from her forehead, and, as if to banish 
 dangerous thought by action, she crossed the room 
 and entered a little dressing-closet, in which sat a tall, 
 thin, black woman of about forty years of age, clothed 
 in a gown of black and white striped calico that made 
 her seem even taller and thinner than she was, and 
 in a white turban, a small white shawl, and white 
 apron. 
 
 She laid down the coarse gray yarn stocking that 
 she had been knitting, and arose to meet her young 
 mistress. 
 
 "Nancy," said the latter, "I want you to find Alick 
 and tell him to see that the fire is kept up in the young 
 master's room, and everything is ready for him there. 
 After that tell him to go down to the outer gate and 
 wait for the carriage from the station, and to stop it 
 there, lest the sound of the wheels coming to the 
 house should awaken the master, who is sleeping 
 quietly at present and must not be disturbed on any 
 account. Do you understand?" 
 
 "Yes, Miss Lilith." 
 
 "And tell Gassy to have breakfast ready for the 
 young master at a quarter past ten o'clock. He will 
 want a substantial meal after his long night ride." 
 
 "Yes, Miss Lilith." 
 
 "And you, Nancy, after you have delivered your 
 messages, return to this room and keep a lookout for
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 27 
 
 Mr. Tudor Hereward's arrival, meet him yourself and 
 take him up to his room, and tell him that I will notify 
 him as soon as his father wakes, but that Major Here- 
 ward must not be disturbed until then." 
 
 "Yes, Miss Lilith, I'll 'tend to eberyting. Don't you 
 be anxious nor likewise 'sturbed in your mind. And 
 now, honey, you ought to get your breakfas' an' go 
 right to bed. I know as you ain't tuk a wink o' sleep 
 since ole niarse been sick." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I have, Nancy." 
 
 "Oh, sho! Wot's shettin' up yer eyes in a arm-chau 
 'fo' de fire? Dey's wide open de minute ole niarse 
 stirs! I knows! Now you g'long and get some break- 
 fas' and go to sleep. An' arter I done my messidges I'll 
 come and sit here an' watch ole marse wid one eye, 
 an' listen fo' young marse wid t'oder. Now, g'long an' 
 do's I tell yer, honey." 
 
 "I will, when Mr. Tudor Hereward arrives. Not 
 until then. I will not give up my post to anyone but 
 him. But I thank you all the same, Nancy," gently 
 answered Lilith, as she softly closed the door and re- 
 sumed her seat beside the sinking man. 
 
 She looked at him and saw that he was sleeping 
 heavily. His talk to her had greatly fatigued him, and 
 he slept the sleep of exhaustion. 
 
 He slept long and deeply, while she sat watching his 
 ebbing life, thinking sorrowfully of the beloved and 
 revered friend, the much more than fond father, who 
 was so soon to leave her, grieving for him, and yet 
 though, indeed, 
 
 "With a defeated joy" 
 
 dreaming her young dream of love, dreaming so, be- 
 cause she could not but dream in the stillness and 
 silence of the chamber. 
 
 So still and silent was it that her listening ears de-
 
 28 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 tected the first faint sound of the carriage wheels as 
 the vehicle drew up and stopped at the outer gate. 
 
 This she knew heralded the arrival of Tudor Here- 
 ward Tudor Hereward, the hero of her childhood's 
 reverence and of her womanhood's love! Tudor Here- 
 ward, destined within a very few hours to become her 
 husband if the father should be right in his happy 
 hope. 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 "A MOMENT MORE AND THEY SHALL MEET" 
 
 LILITH listened for the coming step, but she did not 
 hear it. 
 
 A little later on she heard a low tap at the chamber 
 door, so low a tap that if her ears had not been so 
 acutely attentive she could not have heard it at all. 
 She knew who stood without the one being on earth 
 whom she loved more than all the world; who field 
 in his hands her destiny; who, before the day was 
 over, might be her husband. 
 
 She arose, trembling, flushing and paling, noise- 
 lessly crossed the room, and softly opened the door. 
 
 It was as her heart had divined. 
 
 Tudor Hereward, pale, anxious, weary, dusty, just 
 as he had come off his long night ride, stood before 
 her. 
 
 "Lilith! My father! How is he?" he demanded, in 
 a low, hurried tone; and he waited her answer with 
 suspended breath. 
 
 The young girl crossed the threshold into the hall, 
 closed the door behind her, and replied, in a whisper: 
 
 "He is better just now. He is sleeping." 
 
 "What what is the trouble now, Lilith?" he 
 anxiously inquired.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 29 
 
 "His old malady in an aggravated form," sadly re- 
 plied the girl. 
 
 "When was he stricken again?" 
 
 "Yesterday afternoon. The doctor was sent for im- 
 mediately, but he did not reach the honse until eve- 
 ning. As soon as he had seen Major Hereward he 
 came out and told me that the case was very serious 
 much more serious than it had ever been before. 
 He asked where you were, and when I told him you 
 were in Washington, where you had gone at the meet- 
 ing of Congress, he said, of course, though he had 
 forgotten you had to go, but that you must be sum- 
 moned home at once. I then sent a telegram to you," 
 Lilith explained, in a low, agitated voice; and even 
 while she spoke, she kept her hand on the knob of 
 the door, and often bent her ear to listen for the 
 slightest sound from the sick-room. 
 
 "Has he suffered much?" sorrowfully inquired the 
 son. 
 
 "Only just at first; but he rested quietly during the 
 night, and took nourishment this morning. He is 
 sleeping again." 
 
 "Lilith, my child, what is the matter with you? 
 Your color comes and goes; your frame shivers as with 
 a chill. Are you not well, dear?" he inquired, com- 
 passionately. 
 
 "Yes, I am well, thank you, Mr. Hereward," said 
 the young girl, striving to compose the agitation that 
 had attracted his attention. "And now, if you please, 
 I must return to Major Hereward. I will inform you 
 as soon as he awakes. You will find everything ready 
 for you, and you will excuse me from attendance, 1 
 am sure." 
 
 "Yes, yes, dear child! Do not trouble yourself 
 about me more than to have me called when my father 
 wakes," replied Tudor Hereward, as he turned away. 
 
 "He always speaks to me as if I were still a little
 
 SO THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 child. I do not believe he knows that I have grown up. 
 Oh, I am sure he will think I am too young for him, 
 even if everything else were fitting. I wish I were five 
 years older," mused Lilith, as she re-entered the sick 
 room and resumed her watch at the bedside. 
 
 She looked at her patient, rejoicing in the fact that 
 he slept so well; rejoicing in the hope that he would 
 awaken from his sleep refreshed, and rally from this 
 prostration, as he had rallied from so many others, 
 with renewed health and strength, to go about his 
 house and farm an apparently well man. 
 
 Certainly the family physician had given no reason 
 for such high hope; but, then, even doctors were some- 
 times mistaken, she thought. 
 
 So she sat and watched her patient, hoping for his 
 recovery, dreaming of his cherished desire that she 
 should be the wife of his son, and wondering if such 
 happiness could ever be in store for her. 
 
 Every time her patient stirred in sleep she would 
 gently pass her hand to and fro over his brow without 
 touching it, but with an intuitive mesmeric motion 
 that soothed him into deeper slumber. 
 
 Thus the hours passed while he slept this profound 
 sleep, angel-guarded. 
 
 Twice again Tudor Hereward came to the door and 
 tapped so softly that none but Lilith's fine, attentive 
 ears could have heard the sound. 
 
 Each time she arose and softly opened the door to 
 tell him that his father still slept well, and that she 
 would call him w r hen Major Hereward should awake. 
 
 On the last occasion he took her hand, drew her 
 away from the door into the hall, and whispered, 
 earnestly : 
 
 "Lilith, I am told that you have had no broakf \ 
 and furthermore that you have taken neither food nor 
 rest since my father was stricken. This must not be
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 31 
 
 so, my child. Let me relieve your watch, while you 
 go and take necessary food and sleep." 
 
 "When he wakes I will do so, Mr. Hereward. Not 
 until then, please. I could not. And I do not need 
 anything, really. I had some coffee during the night- 
 watch. Let me go back to him now. As soon as he 
 wakes I will be sure to inform you," she gently re- 
 plied. 
 
 And the son retired, and the young nurse returned 
 to her post by the bed. 
 
 It was late in the short winter afternoon when 
 Major Hereward awoke, looking so much refreshed, 
 strengthened and brightened that Lilith's heart was 
 gladdened to behold him. 
 
 "Has Tudor come, my dear?" he anxiously inquired. 
 
 "Yes, father, some hours ago. And he has break- 
 fasted and rested, and is waiting anxiously to see you. 
 I am so glad and so thankful that he will see you 
 looking so much better," said Lilith, as she hastened 
 to the fireplace and brought a small bowl of beef tea 
 to the bedside. 
 
 When he had taken this refreshment, and she had 
 put away the empty bowl, he said: 
 
 "Send for Tudor to come to me, my dear." 
 
 Lilith went to the adjoining little room, in which 
 Nancy sat sewing, and dispatched her with the mes- 
 sage. 
 
 A very few minutes passed before Tudor Hereward 
 entered the room. And as he did so Lilith glided 
 silently from it. 
 
 He went directly up to his father's bedside, and bent 
 over him with affectionate solicitude. 
 
 "I hope you are feeling refreshed by your long sleep, 
 dear sir. The news of your sudden attack grieved me 
 very much. I came on at once by the first train that 
 left Washington after your telegram reached me. I 
 arrived at half-past ten. And I am very grateful to
 
 32 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 find you so very much better," he said, as he took 
 and held his father's hand between both of his own. 
 
 "I am very glad that you have come, Tudor. I am 
 very glad to see you, indeed, my dear son," replied the 
 father, laying his other hand upon the young man's 
 bent head. 
 
 "And you are really much better now, father?" 
 
 "Yes, I am better just at present, I thank Heaven, 
 and the little guardian angel who has nursed me so 
 tenderly and watched over me so faithfully. Where 
 has she gone?" inquired Major Hereward, looking 
 around. 
 
 "If you mean little Lilith, the child left the room as 
 I entered," replied Tudor Hereward. 
 
 "That is well. I am glad she has withdrawn for a 
 little space, not only because I wish her to have some 
 relief from her long watch, but also because I wish to 
 talk of her with you alone." 
 
 "To talk with me of Lilith?" carelessly inquired the 
 young man, as he sank into the arm-chair at the head 
 of the bed, as if preparing for the tete-a-tete. 
 
 "Yes, of my dear daughter, Lilith." 
 
 "What of the child, sir?" 
 
 "I am so very anxious about her." 
 
 "But why? What ails her? She looks pale and dis- 
 turbed, certainly, but that is from loss of rest, no 
 doubt." 
 
 "Tudor, you do not understand. It is for Lilith's 
 future that I am so anxious. My dear son, you must 
 know that this last attack of illness is the gravest I 
 have ever suffered." 
 
 "That is the doctor's mistaken opinion, sir. You are 
 really looking very well." 
 
 "However well I may be looking just at this mo- 
 ment, Tudor, I feel that my mortal pilgrimage draws 
 to its close." 
 
 "I do hope and I believe that this is not so, sir."
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 33 
 
 "Never mind what you hope and believe, Tudor. 
 Your hope and belief will not affect life and death. 
 And feeling so sure as I do that my departure is very 
 near at hand, I have become painfully anxious con- 
 cerning the future of my dear daughter, Lilith." 
 
 "Lilith again! I do not admit the possibility that 
 you are anywhere near death, sir; but even if such 
 were the case which Heaven forbid! why should 
 you be troubled about the child, my dear father?" 
 
 "Because I have nothing to leave her; because her 
 future may be unprovided for and unprotected. That 
 is the reason, Tudor. And reason enough, I should 
 suppose." 
 
 "But, my dear sir, you cannot think otherwise than 
 that I will both provide for and protect the child 
 whom you have brought up and educated as your 
 daughter? Pray give yourself no uneasiness, for even 
 if you should be taken from us which I do not be- 
 lieve likely to occur for many long and happy years 
 to come I should, of course, consider it to be my 
 bounden duty to provide for and protect that child," 
 earnestly responded the young man. 
 
 "Thank you, my good son. I knew, of course, that 
 such would be your disposition," replied Major Here- 
 ward. 
 
 "Then why should you suffer a moment's dis- 
 quietude about the child?" 
 
 "Because, Tudor, in the first place Lilith is not a 
 child, but a young woman. She was seventeen her last 
 birthday." 
 
 "Indeed! I had no idea she was so old! But what 
 has her age to do with the question at issue?" 
 
 "Much everything. Lilith is a young, beautiful 
 woman, therefore there is but one way in which you 
 can honorably protect her, and delicately provide for 
 her."
 
 84 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "And what way is that, my dear father? I am ready 
 to do anything you wish." 
 
 "You are the best son in the world, I do believe." 
 
 "I hope not. It would be a bad showing for the 
 world if I were the best son in it. But tell me in 
 what way I can properly take care of Lilith." 
 
 "By making her your wedded wife," solemnly re- 
 plied Major Hereward. 
 
 Tudor Hereward started violently, flushed crimson, 
 as at a blow or an insult, then fixed his strong, blue 
 eyes searchingly upon the speaker's face, as if he 
 seriously doubted his father's sanity. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, sir; I think I cannot have 
 understood you," he said at length, in perfect good 
 faith, for he really doubted his own ears. 
 
 "Cannot have understood me, Tudor? Why, I 
 speak plain English enough. Understand me now, 
 then; my son I wish you to marry Lilith Wyvil." 
 
 The young man stared more fixedly than ever. He 
 seemed like one struck speechless. 
 
 "You are quite old enough to marry," continued 
 Major Hereward, seemingly unconscious of his son's 
 amazement. "You are seven years older than I was 
 when I married your mother. And you should have 
 married years ago had your destined bride reached a 
 proper age. She is, indeed, still very young, but girls 
 are married as young. Come, Tudor, you know what I 
 wish. Make my Lilith a happy wife before I depart 
 hence." 
 
 Some minutes passed in utter silence. 
 
 "You do not answer me, my son. Come, what do 
 you say? Will you marry Lilith Wyvil?" anxiously 
 questioned Major Hereward, after another long pause, 
 as he turned a yearning, pleading gaze upon the 
 troubled face of the young man. 
 
 "I am surprised and perplexed beyond all measure, 
 sir, by this most extraordinary proposition. Of course.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 36 
 
 I cannot marry Lilith. Wyvil. I have never even 
 thought of the girl except as a mere child the child 
 of } 7 our charity. As such, I should always think it my 
 duty to care for her needs. But as to making her 
 my wife! the idea cannot be entertained for an in- 
 stant. It is an absurdity an impossibility! I beg 
 your pardon, sir, but the girl is in no way fitted to be- 
 come my wife. Still, I shall always look carefully to 
 her best interests, as the child of my father's 
 charity " 
 
 "My charity!" burst forth the sick man, with a vehe- 
 mence that must have imperilled his frail life. "For 
 the Lord's sake, Tudor Hereward, let us have done 
 at once and forever with that bragging lie!" 
 
 "My dear father!" exclaimed the amazed young 
 man. 
 
 "Yes," continued Major Hereward, almost indig- 
 nantly; "if there be any question of charity in our 
 relations with this young girl, it certainly is not she 
 who is the recipient of it; it is I, and it is you." 
 
 Tudor Hereward was more than ever inclined to 
 fear that his father was becoming delirious. He 
 longed to feel the patient's pulse; he wished the doc- 
 tor might come. 
 
 "Do you hear me, Tudor? Do you hear me define 
 our true relations with Lilith Wyvil?" 
 
 "I hear you, sir," replied the young man in a tone of 
 painful perplexity. "I hear you, and I should think 
 from your words that we had, in some way, defrauded 
 this child out of her birthright, and that we were liv- 
 ing off the revenues of her estate, or in some other 
 manner benefiting by her loss." 
 
 "And you are very nearly right; for we have been 
 the means of depriving Lilith of her birthright. We 
 have been enjoying this estate and all else that we 
 possess, as you will enjoy your inheritance, and not 
 only your inheritance, but every good thing that you
 
 36 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 possess, or ever will possess, in this world, and every 
 success that you will achieve, every distinction that 
 you will attain, every triumph that you conquer, you 
 will enjoy at Lilith's expense, and at her great loss." 
 
 "Father, your discourse becomes so serious as to be 
 alarming though I really do not understand it! Pray 
 explain. Tell me this Has Lilith Wyvil any sort of 
 claim upon this estate, which I have been always led 
 to believe to have been in my mother's family for 
 centuries, and to have come down in a direct line to 
 her, and from her to us? If Lilith Wyvil has any legal 
 right to this estate though I cannot comprehend how 
 it is possible that she should in Heaven's name let 
 her have it; let her have it unencumbered by a hus- 
 band in my person! But has the girl such an unsus- 
 pected right?" 
 
 "No, no, of course not. You misinterpret my lan- 
 guage. I told you we owe everything we enjoy to 
 Lilith Wyvil, since we possess it at her expense, and 
 through her great loss. And this is the sacred truth, 
 as you will admit when you shall have heard all that 
 I have to tell you. You owe Lilith Wyvil a debt so 
 sacred that nothing but the gift of yourself can cancel 
 it," said Major Hereward, speaking with deep 
 solemnity. 
 
 "I confess that I despair of comprehending your 
 meaning, sir!" said Tudor Hereward, with a hopeless 
 sigh. 
 
 "Listen to me, then, and I will make all clear to 
 you," replied the major.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 37 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE SACRED DEBT 
 
 "Do you remember, Tudor, the circumstances under 
 which I first adopted Lilith Wyvil?" gravely inquired 
 Major Hereward. 
 
 "Not perfectly; I remember, of course for I was a 
 boy ten years old at that time the autumn when you 
 brought Lilith home here, and represented her as the 
 daughter of your dearest deceased friends," replied 
 the young man. 
 
 "And so she was, the orphan child of parents who 
 had won my eternal gratitude and friendship at a very 
 heavy cost to themselves and their child. Send back 
 your thoughts to that eventful year, and tell me if 
 you can recollect all the important changes of that 
 time." 
 
 "It would be strange if I could not, sir. My dear 
 mother died in the early spring. You resigned from 
 the army and took me to the seaside in the summer, 
 so that we both might recruit our strength." 
 
 "Do you recollect what happened to you there?" 
 solemnly inquired the major. 
 
 "Yes," replied Tudor Hereward, with a smile. 
 "Something happened to me that might have formed 
 the text for a Sunday-school sermon on disobedience 
 to parents! Certainly, I shall never forget that! I 
 went out bathing against orders, for the waves were 
 vi'i-y high and the sea very rough. You had refused 
 to allow me to go in the water. But when you were 
 smoking your afternoon cigar in the gentleman's read- 
 ing-room, and Alick was gossiping with the chamber- 
 maid, I found my opportunity and slipped away to 
 the beach and went in to bathe. Almost immediately 
 the under-current sucked me in, drew me down and
 
 38 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 whirled me out to sea. Then commenced a death- 
 struggle that ended in suffocation and complete un- 
 consciousness. When I came to life again it might 
 have been hours, days or weeks afterwards I found 
 myself lying in my bed at the hotel, and feeling as 
 if needles were running through every vein and artery 
 in my body and piercing every nerve. The room was 
 full of women. My memory is very hazy from that 
 time until we went home to Cloud-Capped Cliffs." 
 
 "Yes, for you had a severe illness after that," said 
 the major. 
 
 "But I remember this hearing some of the women 
 about me saying that Major Hereward had most 
 liberally rewarded the two men who had brought me 
 to the shore," added Tudor Hereward. 
 
 "Ah, yes! I rewarded the two men who brought 
 you in! But the brave young fellow who really saved 
 your life by the sacrifice of his own he had passed 
 above all earthly reward," said the major, with much 
 emotion. 
 
 "I I I never heard of this before! Who was he?" 
 demanded the young man, in an agitated voice. 
 
 "Joseph Wyvil, Lilith's father." 
 
 "I knew nothing of this!" 
 
 "No; and it may seem strange to you that you were 
 never told. But the very truth is, that the knowledge 
 of the tragedy was withheld from you at first in 
 tender consideration. You were a very delicate and 
 sensitive lad, and you were also very ill. It would 
 have excited and distressed you in a perilous degree 
 to have been told that the brave young fellow who 
 saved your life had lost his own. So it was thought 
 best to keep the sorrowful knowledge from you. I 
 always meant to tell you, Tudor, but I put off the sad 
 task from day to day. Afterwards, when we went 
 back to Cloud Cliffs, and the scene changed and time 
 passed, the subject slowly sank into the solemn
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 39 
 
 silence of a loving and sorrowful memory. But now 
 the time has come when I must tell you the whole 
 pathetic story of your rescue from death." 
 
 "Had you not better defer this to some future time, 
 my dear father? Will not the subject agitate and ex- 
 haust you too much?" inquired Tudor Hereward, who 
 had been a deeply interested listener to his father's 
 revelations, yet who feared that the invalid was over- 
 tasking himself. Would it not do for to-morrow?" 
 
 "No, my son! The time has now come when it is 
 absolutely necessary that you should know the whole 
 truth. And therefore I shall suffer less in telling the 
 story and getting it off my mind than I should in keep- 
 ing a longer silence." 
 
 "Very well, my dear sir. Go on, if you must! But 
 I beg you to spare yourself as much as possible." 
 
 "It is necessary that I should revert briefly to my 
 early life, Tudor. You know so little of it." 
 
 "I shall be much pleased to know more of it, sir." 
 
 "But you do know, I suppose, that my forefathers 
 and yours owned very large manors down in the State 
 of Maryland." 
 
 "Yes," said the young man, with an amused smile, 
 "I have heard all that from our boastful old family 
 servants, who came with you from Maryland. They 
 boast that the first Hereward who settled in Maryland 
 used to stand upon a very high hill in the midst of 
 his estates, and declare that, from that centre to the 
 circumference bounded by the horizon, all the land in 
 sight was his own." 
 
 "Ah, well! that boast may or may not have been a 
 true one! But, at all events, in many generations of 
 high not to say 'riotous living/ all that land gradually 
 melted away from the possession of the Herewards. 
 In my father's time there was nothing left of the old 
 manor but a large, dilapidated mansion house, with a 
 few acres of worn-out laud, and a few tumble-down
 
 40 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 sheds and out-houses. And these were all heavily 
 mortgaged beyond hope of redemption. My father 
 struggled on to keep the old homestead over our heads 
 as long as my mother lived. She left us when I was 
 about fifteen years of age, having fallen a victim, as I 
 firmly believe, to constant anxiety and worry rather 
 than to disease." 
 
 "I had no idea that your early life had been so full 
 of trial, sir," said the son, in a sympathetic tone. 
 
 "Well, well, it is past. After my mother left us, 
 there remained only my father and myself, for I had 
 neither sister nor brother. He ceased then to strive 
 against fate. He sold house, land, stock and furni- 
 ture, parted with all his possessions, indeed, except 
 his family servants. He paid every debt he owed in 
 the world. Then, taking his son and his favorite serv- 
 ants, he went to the city of Richmond and took a 
 bookkeeper's place in a large mercantile establish- 
 ment. It was a great fall for a country gentleman!" 
 added Major Hereward, with a sigh. 
 
 "And yet for that I honor my grandfather, more 
 than I do all the preceding Herewards, who wasted 
 their substance in feasting and 'riotous living,' " said 
 Tudor Hereward, bluntly. 
 
 "Yes, he lived and died without a stain upon his 
 pure and noble name. It was some months after his 
 removal to Richmond in November, 18 , that his old 
 and intimate friend, General , was elected Presi- 
 dent of the United States. In the following March, 
 my father was enabled, through his powerful friend, 
 to gratify the ambition of my boyhood, and procure 
 for me an appointment as cadet at the Military 
 Academy at West Point. This, of course, settled my 
 career in life." 
 
 "But when you went to West Point how fared my 
 grandfather, bereft of home and family, and tied down
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 41 
 
 to a bookkeeper's desk in the warehouse of a crowded 
 city?" inquired Tudor Hereward, with much interest. 
 
 "I never left him. Ah! my son, the change was too 
 great for him. One day he came home from his count- 
 ing-house, spent the evening with me talking of my 
 future prospects, then rose to go to his bedroom, 
 dropped back into his chair and passed away before 
 I could spring to his side. It was a sudden, painless 
 exit. He indeed was changed 'in the twinkling of an 
 eye.' He knew not death." 
 
 "Was it apoplexy?" inquired Tudor Hereward, in 
 a low, grave tone. 
 
 "So the doctors said." 
 
 "And you, at the age of sixteen, were alone in the 
 world!" 
 
 "Yes, quite alone; and after all remaining debts 
 were paid I was nearly out of money. But I had my 
 cadetship, and so, after I had settled my affairs in 
 Richmond, I went to West Point and entered the Mili- 
 tary Academy, where constant occupation left me 
 little or no time to brood over family troubles." 
 
 "You are talking too long for your strength, sir. 
 You are wearying yourself," interrupted his son. 
 
 "Yes. Give me that cordial, and I will drink it and 
 rest for a few moments." 
 
 Tudor Hereward poured out the restorative from 
 the bottle into a glass and gave it to the patient, who 
 immediately after drinking it dropped into the sud- 
 den, swoon-like sleep of exhaustion which accom- 
 panied his malady. 
 
 The son sat patiently watching the sleep of the 
 father until an hour later, when the latter awoke 
 much rested, and inquired: 
 
 "Where was I? in my reminiscences, I mean/' 
 
 "At West Point, sir," replied Tudor, with a smile. 
 
 "Ah, yes! Well, at the close of the academic course 
 I graduated with some credit. Then the memory of
 
 42 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 my dear father still befriended me at the War Depart- 
 ment. I received my lieutenant's commission, and, in- 
 stead of being sent to some frontier fort in the far 
 West, I was appointed to a regiment then going to 
 Fortress Monroe. It was there that I first met Evelyn 
 Tudor." 
 
 "My mother!" 
 
 "Yes, your mother. She was the daughter, as you 
 know, and the only surviving child, of Edward Tudor, 
 of Cloud Cliffs, my father's dearest college friend and 
 my own godfather, for whom I was named. She was 
 a guest and relative of our colonel's wife. I met her 
 first at a Christmas ball; and after that at all the 
 social gatherings at the fort and in the neighborhood. 
 We were mutually pleased with each other, and in a 
 short time we became devotedly attached to one an- 
 other." 
 
 "Oh! I can imagine that, sir; for I remember how 
 perfectly united you were in heart and mind." 
 
 "Yes, ours was the true union that death does not 
 sever. Well, in due time I proposed to her and was ac- 
 cepted. And not until her uncle, our colonel, sug- 
 gested that marriage settlements should be drawn up 
 securing the whole of her real and personal property 
 to herself and to any children that she might have, 
 did I know or even suspect that she was an heiress, 
 twenty-one years of age, with full powers to dispose 
 of herself and her fortune. Heaven knows it was her 
 precious self and not her fortune I coveted. She op- 
 posed the settlement upon herself. She would hav-j 
 given me everything; but the colonel was firm, and so 
 was I. I would not take her fortune. The colonel 
 sustained me in my resolution. We carried the point, 
 and every penny of her estate was settled upon her- 
 self and her prospective children. That is the reason, 
 Tudor, why I am at this hour a very 'poor,' though 
 I hope a very 'honest' man, with nothing to leave
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 43 
 
 my dear adopted daughter but my blessing and my 
 hopes." 
 
 "I have said, sir, that I will provide for her." 
 
 "And I have said there is but one way in which you 
 can honorably do so. But let that pass for the present. 
 I must get on with my narrative. We were married in 
 the early spring. I obtained leave of absence and went 
 on a lengthened bridal tour. When we returned to the 
 fort at the end of five weeks, which was also the end 
 of my leave, I found our regiment under orders to 
 Fort Protection, in Arizona. I might have resigned 
 from the army and settled on my wife's estate, as 
 many of our friends advised me to do; but I had been 
 educated at the expense of my country, and so I felt 
 in honor bound to render some service to the country 
 in return. Or I might have left my wife in her patri- 
 monial home and gone alone with my regiment to the 
 far southwest; but that plan she would not agree to. 
 She, brought up in luxury as she had been, did not 
 flinch from the prospective hardships of frontier camp 
 life. She thought, as I did, that there could be no 
 evil so great as separation." 
 
 "Ah, yes, even in my time I have heard my mother 
 say that! 'No evil so great as separation.' " 
 
 "In the autumn we commenced our journey to the 
 frontier, where we at length arrived without calamity. 
 And then commenced for us a life of privation and 
 hardship difficult for anyone in the civilized East to 
 believe in." 
 
 "I have often heard my mother speak of those 
 times, yet always as picturesque and rather pleasant 
 memories." 
 
 "Her sunny temper brightened the darkest side of 
 every event. But it was hard on her. You were born 
 at Fort Protection, Arizona. And in the course of the 
 next nine years, which we spent from fort to fort on 
 the Western frontier, two other boys and two girls
 
 44 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 were given us. Their little, lonely graves lie far 
 apart all along the line from Washington Territory 
 to Lower California. Ah, well!" 
 
 "She has met her children again in their heavenly 
 mansions," whispered Tudor, gently, to soothe these 
 troubled memories. 
 
 "Yes, undoubtedly; as her faith had taught her to 
 hope and expect. It was in the autumn of our ninth 
 year on the frontier, and I had risen by slow promo- 
 tions to the rank of captain, which I had held about 
 two years, when I w r as detached from my ok "egi- 
 ment and ordered to take command of Fort Be^ge, 
 in the northwest part nf Washington 'i>rritory." 
 
 "My dor father," int_ ~\pted the young man, "you 
 have now brought your personal history down to a 
 point from which I can remember everything of im- 
 portance that passed under my own eyes." 
 
 "Very well, Tudor. Do you remember our journey 
 that severe winter?" 
 
 "I should think so. It is the first very distinct 
 memory that I have. Our life at Fort Protection was 
 so monotonous that its picture hangs on the walls of 
 my memory, a mere haze of forts, cypress swamps, 
 wigwams, Indians, soldiers and venomous reptiles! 
 But that long march from California to Washington 
 Territory! I remember that we suffered from cold, 
 and that the wagons were often blockaded by snow. 
 I remember that at last, when we reached Fort Storm, 
 the buildings were half buried in snow. And even to 
 this day my ideas of the Arctic regions are based 
 upon my memory of that winter in Washington Ter- 
 ritory." 
 
 "Ah, yes! It was during that terrible winter in that 
 terrible climate your mother's health broke down. Our 
 surgeon declared that unless she should be taken to a 
 warmer climate she must soon and surely die. Then, 
 for the first time in my nine years of hard service, I
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 45 
 
 applied for leave of absence and obtained it. Do you 
 remember our journey across the Rocky Mountains?" 
 
 "Perfectly. We set out in March. It was a harder 
 journey than the one in the autumn. We were more 
 frequently blockaded with snow. We melted some of 
 it to get water for our horses and mules, and for our 
 own tea and coffee as well." 
 
 "Yes, it was a hard journey as well as a long one for 
 her! It was in the latter part of April that we reached 
 this place, her old home, where we received the warm- 
 est of warm welcomes from the old servants who had 
 kept the house in order during our long absence, and 
 from old friends and neighbors who flocked to see her. 
 The country was looking beautiful in that last week in 
 April. All the fruit trees and bushes were in full 
 blossom, very refreshing to see after our wintry 
 journey." 
 
 "I remember my delight to be at home, and how 
 much better she grew in her dear native air. She used 
 to take me out with her in her pony carriage. That 
 month of May which followed our arrival was the 
 pleasantest reminiscence of my boyhood." 
 
 "But it was short. Her improvement was deceptive. 
 One happy month in her childhood's home and then a 
 fatal relapse, a rapid decline, and an easy departure*!" 
 
 "I remember! I remember!" murmured the young 
 man, in a broken voice. 
 
 "You had been the darling of her soul, her only sur- 
 viving child. You had shown symptoms of the same 
 hereditary malady which had been so fatal to herself 
 and to both her parents. In her anxiety for your 
 future she made me promise to resign from the army 
 and to turn my whole attention to agricultural life, 
 and to the training and education of our son." 
 
 "And when her love for me thus consigned me to 
 your charge, her love for you, sir, inspired her with 
 many a serious talk to me. She made me promise that
 
 46 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 my very first consideration, after my duty to our Lord, 
 should always be my duty to you. That your will 
 should always be my law. I hope that I have kept 
 my promise, sir!" 
 
 "You have! You have, Tudor! up to this present 
 day. And I have kept mine. Immediately after my 
 wife's funeral, I resigned from the army thinking, in- 
 deed, that my nine years of very hard service and 
 great sacrifice had entitled me to release. Then, to 
 get up your strength, I took you to a small, quiet 
 place on the coast of New Jersey. And there that 
 sacred debt was incurred which you can only cancel 
 by the gift of yourself!" 
 
 "Ah! yes! tell me how that was done." 
 
 "We had been at the Look-Out House on the beach 
 for some weeks. It was a blazing hot day near the last 
 of July the hottest day of the whole season. Every- 
 body was indoors, keeping in the shade. I was loun- 
 ging in the reading-room, the'coolest room in the hotel, 
 when I missed you. I do not know how long you had 
 been away; but I remember that I had not seen you for 
 an hour. I always dreaded your attraction to the sea. 
 So as soon as I discovered that you were nowhere 
 about the hotel, I hastened down to the sands, and 
 went to the bathing-machine we were in the habit of 
 using and where I expected to find you. And now, 
 Tudor, what I am about to tell you happened all in a 
 minute." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "As I neared the spot, I saw a number of people 
 running wildly in the same direction, and I heard out- 
 cries, all to the effect that a boy while he was bathing 
 had been drawn down by the under-current and 
 carried out to sea and was drowning. And at the 
 same instant I saw a young laborer, who was at work 
 near by under the burning sun, tear off his shirt, and 
 all heated and perspiring as he was, strike right and
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 4T 
 
 left, cleaving his way through the panic-stricken 
 crowd, fling himself into the sea and swim lustily 
 for the spot where the last glimpse of the drowning 
 boy had been seen! He dived and rose again, bring- 
 ing the insensible boy to the surface amid the d -afen- 
 ing cheers and huzzas of the crowd on the b f ac 1 : ! He 
 swam laboriously towards the shore, bear^n? the in- 
 sensible body of the lad. As he neared U n;l.i 
 everyone saw his failing condition, and t--- men 
 waded out to meet him. As with the last effort of 
 failing life, he lifted the boy and flung him into the 
 outstretched arms of the men who dexterously caught 
 him, and then the brave fellow sank sank never to 
 rise again!" 
 
 The major, much affected by this reminiscence, cov- 
 ered his face with his hands. 
 
 Tudor sighed in sympathy as he inquired: 
 
 "How could this have happened that the strong 
 young swimmer went down to death in this way?" 
 
 "The brave fellow had been working all day in the 
 hot sun. He was therefore very much over-heated 
 w r hen he threw himself into the water to rescue a child 
 from drowning. It was supposed that he was seized 
 with cramp at the moment he threw the boy to the 
 two men who came out to meet him. And the instant 
 in which he sank he was sucked in by the under-cur- 
 rent and whirled out to sea. All this that I have 
 taken so long to tell you happened in a few seconds, 
 as I came up to the beach." 
 
 "Was no effort made to save him?" 
 
 "Yes, every possible effort. You may be sure, for 
 one, that my coat was off in an instant, and I was in 
 the sea, swimming to the rescue of the gallant fellow 
 who had saved the life of my boy, and leaving that 
 half-drowned boy to the care of the experienced men 
 who had brought him in. Other men, also fired to en- 
 thusiasm by WyviPs example, plunged into the sea
 
 38 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 and swam to his rescue, and boats were taken out 
 to watch for his rising, but all in vain. Even when 
 so much time had passed that all hope of saving his 
 life was gone, we did not, could not leave the spot, 
 but continued on the beach, watching, hoping, and try- 
 ing to recover his body, until night fell and darkness 
 covered the sea." 
 
 "Was his body never found?" 
 
 "Not that night. Indeed, all the 'longshoremen told 
 us that it could not be recovered until the tide should 
 turn, when it might be washed ashore. After leaving 
 the beach I went back to the hotel to look after my 
 son. I found you comfortably sleeping in your own 
 bed, carefully watched over by Nancy and a half a 
 roomful of sympathizing women. You seemed to be 
 doing well then. You were saved!" 
 
 "But at what a costly price! A heroes life for a 
 child's!" exclaimed the young man. 
 
 "And a husband's and a father's life as well, 
 Tudor." 
 
 "A woeful thought!" 
 
 "Yes, it was. I could not rest for a moment. After 
 looking at you for a few minutes, I left you again in 
 charge of Nancy, and went out to inquire concerning 
 the family and friends of the young hero, or if he 
 had any, I learned that he was an Englishman, 
 lately arrived in the country with his young wife. 
 That they occupied a small cottage, with a garden, at 
 a village about three miles back from the coast. That 
 they had no relations in this country, and none in 
 England that any of their neighbors had ever heard 
 them speak of. That they were members of St. Luke's 
 Episcopal Church, at which many of the seaside 
 visitors attended divine service on Sundays. Lastly, 
 that no one had gone to her to break the news of her 
 awful bereavement." 
 
 "It would have required great nerve to perform that
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 49 
 
 sorrowful duty/' said Tudor Hereward, with a deep 
 sigh. 
 
 "Yes! more nerve than I could command at that 
 hour. I therefore went to see the Kev. Mr. Kerr, the 
 Rector of St. Luke's, at his rectory, next to the church. 
 I found him in his study. He had heard of the catas- 
 trophe. And when I told him that the widow knew 
 nothing of her terrible loss, and that I feared some in- 
 judicious person might give her a dangerous or even 
 fatal shock by telling the dreadful news too suddenly; 
 that I myself would go to her, but I was a perfect 
 stranger Mr. Kerr anticipated the favor I was about 
 to beg of him by saying that he himself would go to 
 her at once, as she was one of his own flock. Then 
 I begged him to assure her of my profound sorrow 
 for her loss, and of my earnest desire to comfort and 
 assist her to the very utmost of my power, and to ask 
 her permission for me to see her in the morning. 
 The rector promised all I wished, and rang and 
 ordered his gig. It was late when I got back to the 
 hotel. I went to bed, but could not sleep at all. 
 With the earliest dawn of day I was up and out on 
 the beach, where the first news that met me was that 
 the body of the young hero had been thrown up by 
 the sea during the night, and now lay on the beach 
 awaiting the arrival of the coroner, who had been 
 summoned. Some one had covered the body over with 
 a piece of sail-cloth, and the by-standers would have 
 uncovered it for my view, but I turned away; I could 
 not look upon the dead face then. I got back to the 
 hotel by sunrise, saw you still sleeping quietly; gave 
 some directions for your treatment to Nancy; drank a 
 single cup of very strong coffee; engaged a carriage 
 and drove to the rectory; found Mr. Kerr at breakfast 
 and waited until he got through. As soon as he came 
 to me in the study, and heard from me that the body 
 of young Wyvil had been recovered, and that the
 
 50 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 fishermen would bear it home to the widow as soon 
 as the inquest should be over, he again forestalled 
 my request by offering to go with me to the widow 
 to prepare her against the shock. You know, Tudor, 
 that I was most anxious to be useful to her." 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir! yes!" 
 
 "Half an hour after we were seated together in the 
 carriage, bowling rapidly on to Seawood, the village 
 where she lived. During the drive the rector told me 
 how he had communicated to the young widow the 
 news of her awful bereavement. He had found her 
 waiting for her husband's return from his day's work, 
 and wondering what had kept him away so late. But 
 she was not alarmed at his absence, nor the least sur- 
 prised at the rector's visit, for he had once before 
 made a pastoral call in the evening when he knew that 
 her husband would be home. And even then she re- 
 ceived her pastor with an apology for 'Joseph's ab- 
 sence,' saying that she expected him every moment, 
 however. 
 
 "Oh! it was dreadful, yes, dreadful, Tudor dread- 
 ful for the kind-hearted rector to have to tell that 
 child-wife the tidings that he told her as tenderly as 
 he could that her husband would return no more 
 alive," sighed Major Hereward. And then he remained 
 silent so long that his son inquired: 
 
 "And how did she bear the terrible stroke?" 
 
 "At first, the rector said, she seemed stunned, and 
 stared stupidly in his face. But when she realized the 
 awful truth she fell into the most violent paroxysms of 
 grief. All his efforts to comfort or to control her were 
 utterly fruitless. He then went out and called in her 
 nearest neighbors, and after doing all that he could in 
 the case he left her in their charge and returned 
 home." 
 
 "Did she rally from that stroke?" 
 
 "Yes, temporarily. Not then, however. By the time
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 51 
 
 the rector bad finished the account he was giving me 
 the carriage drew up before the widow's cottage. I 
 then asked Mr. Kerr if he had delivered my message to 
 her, and if he had prepared her to expect my visit this 
 morning. He assured me that he had done so as well 
 as he could under the circumstances. Then we en- 
 tered the cottage a neat, little, w r hite, framed house 
 of one story, surrounded by a pretty garden. We 
 found the young widow in the prim, little front sitting- 
 room, which was half-filled with condoling neighbors. 
 The first glance at her showed me a fair young crea- 
 ture, who seemed not twenty years of age, and who 
 was shortly to become a mother. Her violent 
 paroxysms of grief had exhausted her, and she sat in 
 her arm-chair, white, faint, dazed in an utter col- 
 lapse of despair." 
 
 "And all for my little life!" 
 
 "It could not be helped. Mr. Kerr took me up to 
 her and introduced me. I could not speak at first. I 
 could only take the pale hand she silently offered me 
 and hold it tenderly between my own, while Mr. Kerr 
 told her all that I myself would have told, could I 
 have commanded my voice, how the body of her hus- 
 band had been found at dawn, and how the bearers 
 were bringing it home. And how anxious I was to 
 serve her in any and every way to the utmost extent 
 of my power. She did not seem to care, or even to 
 hear, what tLe minister said, except when he referred 
 to the coming of the body. Then she lifted herself 
 from her chair, and holding by the arms, bent eagerly 
 forward looking through the door at a little proces- 
 sion that was approaching the house. In another 
 minute the bearers bore the body in at the door, and 
 placed it on its bier in the middle of the room. Tudor, 
 even at this distant time I cannot bear to recall the 
 scene that followed! Give me a little more of that 
 cordial."
 
 52 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 The young man filled a wineglass half full of the 
 restorative, and gave it to his father. When the latter 
 had drank it and returned the glass he resumed his 
 narrative: 
 
 "That poor little child-widow, so awfully bereaved, 
 so soon to be a mother, had no self-control whatever. 
 At the sight of her husband's remains she fell again 
 into the most violent paroxysms of grief and despair, 
 that all our endeavors failed to quiet. She had at 
 length to be carried by the women to her bed in the 
 adjoining room. Then I went up to the bier standing 
 in the middle of the room, to look on the face of him 
 who had saved my child at the cost of his life. Some 
 good people at the hotel had seen to it that the form 
 was dressed in a neat suit of clothes, and that the dark 
 curling hair and beard were carefully combed and 
 brushed. How handsome was the still face! How 
 peaceful the whole aspect! In his appearance there 
 was no sign of a violent death no discoloration, no 
 distortion, as is often the case with the drowned ; but 
 a most delicate pallor and a most serene repose. 1 
 turned away to leave the house. I left a sum of 
 money in the hands of one of the neighbors for the 
 immediate needs of the young widow, and a message 
 to the effect that I should make her future welfare and 
 that of her coming child my own especial care hence- 
 forth. And that I should return to see her very soon. 
 All this was no more than my bounden duty, Tudor." 
 
 "Not any more." 
 
 "I re-entered the carriage with my companion and 
 drove back to the rectory, where Mr. Kerr got out, and 
 thenc'e to the hotel, where I dismissed the carriage. 
 But I must cut short these sad details. I took full 
 charge of the funeral arrangements. Two days later 
 the body of the young hero was conveyed to St. 
 Luke's Cemetery, followed by the largest procession
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 53 
 
 that had ever been seen in Seawood, and there laid 
 in its last low resting-place." 
 
 "And the young widow?" 
 
 "The terrible anguish and excitement she had suf- 
 fered produced a disastrous effect upon her. She was 
 prematurely confined and became the mother of a 
 very fragile and delicate girl baby. But she never 
 rallied from her illness. She sank surely, though 
 slowly. It was on Monday morning, just one week 
 from the day on which the brave young fellow had 
 lost his life in saving that of my boy, and I was 
 anxiously watching beside your sick-bed, Tudor, when 
 I received a visit from the rector. He had come to 
 ask me to go with him to see the young widow, wha 
 was in a dying condition and w ? ho had asked to see 
 me. I went with him immediately. When we reached 
 the cottage and entered the sick-room, on the very 
 first glance at the young creature in the bed, I saw 
 death in her pallid face, hollow cheeks and sunken 
 eyes." 
 
 Tudor Hereward moaned. 
 
 "Yet she smiled brightly when I approached the bed 
 and bent over her speechless as upon the first awful 
 occasion of meeting her. I could not speak. She laid 
 her hand upon the babe that was sleeping by her side 
 and looked up into my face with a yearning, pleading, 
 prayerful gaze that was more expressive, more elo- 
 quent and overpowering than any words could have 
 been. Then I took her hand. My tongue was loosened, 
 and in a broken voice, and with tears that could not be 
 repressed, I told her that the child, who had been or- 
 phaned for my child's sake, should find in me the most 
 devoted father; that I would adopt, rear, educate, and 
 provide for her, as for my own only daughter for I 
 had no other. All this I promised Elizabeth Wyvil, 
 and I sealed the promise with the most solemn oath. 
 She was so low that I feared she did not hear me. I
 
 5* THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 stooped and asked her, if she understood my promise, 
 to press the hand that I laid in hers. Her pale fingers 
 closed on mine. She looked up, smiled, and passed 
 away so peacefully that I should not have known 
 she was gone had not the old nurse risen and drawn 
 the sheet over the vacant face. I think that, know- 
 ing her babe was well taken care of, she was happy to 
 depart and be with him." 
 
 "Heaven and earth! Two fine lives lost for one frail 
 child! A little family nest broken up in its beginning! 
 The father and the mother gone in their youth! A 
 babe left without a relative in the world to take care 
 of it! Oh, it was a heavy price to pay for one child's 
 life!" exclaimed the young man, with much emotion. 
 
 "Yet a life so dear to me that my own life hung on 
 it! So that I could not Oh, Tudor! how selfish we 
 all are! At least I know how selfish I am. Heaven 
 help me! Yet I did all that I could do. I procured a 
 first-class nurse for the child, and brought them both 
 to the hotel to be under Nancy's supervision. I laid 
 the remains of the young wife beside those of her 
 husband in the cemetery of St. Luke's. I paid all 
 their debts. I distributed the plain furniture among 
 the poor of the village. I had all the letters, papers, 
 photographs, trinkets, and other small personal effects 
 of the young couple, packed into a box and brought 
 away, to be preserved, for the future use of the child, 
 thinking that in the years to come, if she should live, 
 she would like to possess these mementos of the 
 parents she had never known. There were amon^ 
 them a fine double photograph of the young p;ii;\ 
 taken, as the endorsement showed, on their wedding- 
 day, presenting the faces of a frank, happy youth 
 and girl. There were other photographs, which, from 
 their resemblance to one or the other of the young 
 couple, must have been family pictures. There were 
 also many packets of letters and clippings from news-
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 55 
 
 papers, neatly tied up together. All these I have care- 
 fully preserved up to this day, and shall soon deliver 
 over to their rightful owner. Now, Tudor, my narra- 
 tive draws to a close. As soon as you were able to 
 travel we returned to Cloud Cliffs, taking the orphan 
 infant with us. I have kept my solemn promise to the 
 dying mother. I have brought up her child as my 
 own daughter. I have had her carefully educated at 
 home. I can do no more for her. When I depart she 
 will be left penniless, homeless, friendless but for 
 this house and its master, whose shelter and protec- 
 tion she could not accept but upon the conditions I 
 have already named. Come, Tudor, you know what I 
 mean! You know the sacred debt we owe! Now what 
 do you intend to do?" anxiously inquired Major Here- 
 ward. 
 
 The young man was silent, with his head bowed 
 upon his open hands. 
 
 u She is fit to be your wife, Tudor. She is fit to be 
 the wife of any man, of any rank, who is worthy to 
 have her. Come, Tudor!" 
 
 Still the young man was silent. 
 
 "Then I must tell you her secret. The secret that I 
 surprised from her. The maiden loves you, my son." 
 
 Still no response. 
 
 "Lilith loves you, Tudor." 
 
 Dead silence. 
 
 "Why do you not answer me, my son?" 
 
 "Father," he said, at length, lifting his handsome 
 head, "I will marry Lilith Wyvil if she will accept me. 
 And I will try to make her happy."
 
 56 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 CHAPTEE V 
 
 A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE 
 
 WHEN Lilith Wyvil left the sick-room, in sore need 
 of food and rest, but still more in need of sleep, she 
 would have gone at once to her bed-chamber, to lie 
 down and dream of the blessedness that she imagined 
 must surely await her as the wife of the one man on 
 earth whom her love and faith had exaggerated into 
 a very king of men. 
 
 But as she crossed the hall she was captured by 
 Nancy Skamp, who came out of the front dressing- 
 closet, and stopped her young mistress with blunt 
 words. 
 
 "Dar! I jest fought how it was gwine to be. Too 
 tired to eat a moufful. An' gwine to go upsta'rs an' 
 fling yerse'f down on de top o' de bed, wid all yer close 
 on, I dessay. Now I ain't a-gwine to pimmit no sich 
 fing. Come right downsta'rs 'long o' me, an' eat some 
 b'eakfas' b'eakfas' at two o'clock in de arternoon! I 
 call it flyin' in de face ob natur'. I do, indeed." 
 
 "I am not the least hungry, Aunt Nancy, but I am 
 very, very sleepy," gently replied Lilith. 
 
 "Wot all dat got to do wid it? All dat makes no 
 deffunce at all. An' I ain't a-gwine to listen to no 
 sich dejections. I nussed yer wen yer was nuffin but 
 a little baby. An' I reckon I got de right to have my 
 say inter yer interes'." 
 
 "Indeed you have, Aunt Nancy," gratefully re- 
 sponded Lilith. 
 
 "Well, den, now listen to me good. Never mine 
 'bout yer not bein' hunggy. Yer eat, an' yer ap'tite 
 will come to yer. An' yer'll git up yer strent'. But 
 ef yer doan eat yer'll get so weak yer can't set up an' 
 nuss de ole marster. An' den wot de ole marster
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 57 
 
 gwine do? Gwine to die for want ob popper nussin'. 
 I seen people die fo' want ob dat 'fo' now. 'Deed has 
 I." 
 
 This last argument prevailed with Lilith, and she 
 preceded the servant downstairs to the pleasant sit- 
 ting-room, where, before the open hickory wood fire 
 stood a rocking-chair, with a footstool below it, and 
 beside it a little round table, covered with a white 
 cloth, and adorned with a silver and china breakfast 
 service for one. 
 
 "Now yer set right down dar in dat dar easy-cha'r, 
 an' put yer feet to de fire, w'ile I go an' get yer b'eak- 
 fas' b'eakfas' at two o'clock in de arternoon. I calls 
 it flyin' in de face. I does, indeed," grumbled Nancy, 
 as she left the room. 
 
 Lilith dropped exhausted into the rocking-chair, 
 leaned back, and immediately fell asleep, and dreamed 
 that she stood, dressed in bridal array, beside Tudor 
 Hereward, before the altar of the parish church of St. 
 Joseph's, at Frosthill ; that Major Hereward, who had 
 miraculously recovered his health, gave her away, and 
 Tudor was in the act of putting the wedding ring on 
 her finger, when she was rudely awakened 
 
 "Dar, now! Wot I tell yer? Let yerse'f run down 
 so low yer can't keep yer eyes open one minute. Wake 
 up, honey, an' eat yer b'eakfas' b'eakfas' at two 
 o'clock in de arternoon! 'Deed, I calls it flyin'!" 
 
 Lilith started out of her happy dream to find herself 
 in the rocking-chair before the fire, and Nancy stand- 
 ing beside the table, upon which she had arranged a 
 dainty repast of rich coffee, cream, toast, poached 
 eggs and broiled partridge. 
 
 Lilith smiled, thanked her servant, and turned her 
 chair to the table. 
 
 She really felt too tired and sleepy to eat; but when 
 to please Nancy she took a mouthful of the toast she
 
 58 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 was surprised to find how very hungry she suddenly 
 became. 
 
 And so, to Nancy's great satisfaction, she made a 
 healthy meal. And vhen she finished it she did not 
 feel nearly so sleepy as she had felt when she had 
 begun it. 
 
 And this was well, for her strength was to be fur- 
 ther taxed before she was to be permitted to rest. 
 
 Nancy took the little breakfast out to the kitchen, 
 and returned with an armful of round hickory sticks 
 which she piled upon the fire, which immediately 
 leaped into a roaring flame. 
 
 "It's mighty cold, I tell yer all good, Miss Lilith! 
 An' it's a-gwine to get a heap colder! Nebber see a 
 colder New Year's Day in all my life!" said the 
 woman, as she stood basking before the blazing fire. 
 
 And indeed the aspect of the earth, as seen through 
 the front and side windows of this room, seemed to 
 confirm her words. 
 
 For the ground was covered deeply with frozen 
 snow, and all the trees and bushes were sheathed in 
 ice and hung thickly with pendant icicles. 
 
 Nancy left the room again and returned with an- 
 other armful of hickory sticks and threw them upon 
 the fire, which received them with a roar and a burst 
 of flame. 
 
 "Why don't you let Alick or Steve do that? It is 
 their work, not yours!" said the young lady. 
 
 " 'Gaze I choose to do it myse'f radder dan wait deir 
 lazy motions, Miss Lilith! But w'y doan yer go to bed, 
 now yer's had yer b'eakfas' b'eakfas' at two o'clock 
 in de arternoon! Putty way to begin de New Year! 
 'Deed it's flyin' in de face! Now, w'y doan yer go to 
 bed, honey?" 
 
 "Because I have waked up now. Besides, I want to 
 distribute the New Year's gifts, if you will call the 
 servants in. I had really forgotten them."
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 59 
 
 '*No wonder, wid all yer had on yer mine, Miss 
 Lilith! Will I fetch all de niggers in togedder?" 
 
 "No! Bring the women and girls first," said the 
 young lady, as she arose and went to the corner cup- 
 board, in the angle of the wall between the front and 
 the side windows, opened it and took from it various 
 parcels, which she brought and piled upon the little 
 round table. 
 
 It required several trips between the cupboard and 
 the table before all the parcels were transferred from 
 the former to the latter, and the cupboard was closed. 
 
 Then Lilith dropped into her chair to wait. 
 
 Meanwhile Nancy had gone out to drum up all the 
 maids about the house, and she soon returned with 
 about half a dozen women and girls who entered the 
 room respectfully but boisterously, all exclaiming, 
 with courtesies: 
 
 "Happy New Year, honey!" 
 
 "Happy New Year, Miss Lilith!" 
 
 "Happy New Year, young mist'ess!" 
 
 "I thank you all very much and wish you all very 
 many good and happy New Years! But do not be 
 noisy. Remember that the master's room is just over 
 this one and that he is very, very ill," said Lilith, 
 gently and gravely. 
 
 "I's so sorry!" 
 
 "Po' ole marse!" 
 
 "I hopes he'll get ober it like he did befo'." 
 
 These words came in a chorus of subdued voices. 
 
 Lilith echoed the hope, and then began to distribute 
 the gay plaid woolen dresses that she had selected for 
 the maids. 
 
 These were received with profuse delight and grati- 
 tude expressed in such quaint phrases as 
 
 "Hush, honey!" 
 
 "Whip, you bosses!" 
 
 "Ain't it jam!"
 
 60 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Won't I cut a dash!" 
 
 And when the last dress had been given out Lilith 
 dismissed her maids, who retired with many low 
 courtesies. 
 
 Then the men and boys were summoned. They 
 entered the room more quietly than the women and 
 girls had done; and their New Year's salutations were 
 more subdued and respectful. 
 
 They received the various woolen scarfs, socks, 
 gloves, fur caps, mauds, and other comfortable de- 
 fences against cold weather, with much gratification 
 and thankfulness, and retired in the same orderly 
 manner in which they had entered. 
 
 When the last one had left the room, Lilith called 
 Nancy to her side and gave the woman the last parcel 
 that lay on the table. 
 
 It contained a beautiful black mohair alpaca, and a 
 piece of book muslin for head and neck-handkerchiefs 
 and aprons. 
 
 "Last and best, Miss Lilith! T'anky, miss; I'll 
 'member yer in my prayers. 'Deed I will. T'anky, 
 miss." 
 
 "By the way, what church are you going to join this 
 year, Aunt Nancy?" inquired the young lady, referring 
 to a well-known eccentricity of the woman's. 
 
 "I was a-finkin' ob j'inin' de Free Wills, 'deed I was, 
 honey! 'Gaze, yer see as many 'sieties as I 'long to, I's 
 nebber been 'mersed yet ! An' 'mersion may be neces- 
 sary, as de Free Wills do say. An' so, as it is bes' 
 always to be on de safe side, I fink I shall jine de 
 Free Wills." 
 
 "And then you will be a member of almost every 
 Christian sect," said Lilith, with a smile. 
 
 "I hope so, Miss Lilith, 'caze I wants to be! Dat's 
 de on'y way to be on de safe side. 'Caee dey is all 
 deff'unt an' some opperside; an' I doan know w'ich is 
 right an' w'ich is wrong; and I doan care much neider,
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 61 
 
 but I wants to be on de safe side an' save my mortal 
 soul alibe; so I jine 'em all, so as not to miss de true 
 one; an' den, young mist'ess, yer see, whoebber's 
 wrong, I is sure to be right." 
 
 "But when you join one sect, does not another dis- 
 card you?" 
 
 "Hi, young mist'ess, who yer fink a fool? Fink I 
 gwine gib myse'f 'way like dat? I nebber tells 'em 
 nothin' 'bout wot I jines. I keep in 'long ob all ob 'em, 
 so I be sure of de right one. I 'f esses to de pries'; I 
 sings an' shouts at de camp meetin's; I sits mum 
 chance 'mong de Inner Lights " 
 
 "Wherever did you meet with the Inner Lights, as 
 you call them?" 
 
 "When I was travelin' long ob de ole marse to take 
 care ob de little marse years an' years ago. Yes, I 
 jines 'em all, an' I keeps in long ob 'em all. I goes to 
 de water wid de Free Wills ebery time a new sister or 
 brudder is goin' to be 'mersed. An' I'm gwine to be a 
 Free Will myse'f." 
 
 "And how many more sects do you mean to connect 
 yourself with?" 
 
 "Dunno, honey, till I fine 'em out. I do hear as dere 
 is two new 'sieties, w'ich one is called de New Light 
 an de oder de Second Adventurers. I'm gwine to 
 'quire into dem, an' jine 'em de fuss chance I get. 
 'Gaze, yer see, all de res' may be wrong, an' one ob 
 dem right. An' it would be a awful fing if I been 
 wrong all my life an' lose my mortal soul, arter all de 
 trouble I hab took to save it. 'Deed, I ain't gwine 
 to leave no stone unturned, as the old sayin' says." 
 
 "Heaven help you, Nancy! I cannot!" said Lilith, 
 very gravely, with a sudden sense of the spiritual 
 darkness in which this eccentric creature walked. 
 
 What reply Nancy might have made was cut short 
 by the entrance of Alick to announce: 
 
 "A gem'an in de parlor a-waitin' to see yer, miss."
 
 62 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "What gentleman, Alick?" 
 
 "Young Mr. Mr. Wot is his name ag'in? Mr. 
 Mr. Hal Hallo I mean dat young youth wot has 
 come on to old Mr. Rushmore's place." 
 
 "Oh! young Mr. Hilary. Tell him I will be down 
 in a few minutes/' said Lilith, who never refused to 
 see a visitor. And she ran upstairs to change her 
 white wrapper for a home dress. 
 
 In a very short time she appeared in the parlor 
 dressed in a crimson cashmere suit, lace collar and 
 cuffs, and with her curling black hair gathered into a 
 fine black net. 
 
 Standing on the rug, with his back to the roaring 
 hickory fire, stood a tall, slight young man, with a thin 
 face, a broad, full forehead, a turned-up nose, a florid 
 complexion now much exaggerated by the cold 
 bright red whiskers and mustache, and a shock of 
 bright red hair that thickly covered his head, and all 
 this stood out around his sanguine face like a halo, 
 as his fond mother said; though his frank, merry 
 countenance certainly did not suggest sanctity. 
 
 With full confidence in his welcome, he had laid olf 
 his overcoat and fur cap and left them in the hall, and 
 he now stood before the fire in a morning suit of 
 bottle-green broadcloth, with a large roll of white 
 paper sticking from his pocket, and with a choice 
 bouquet in Ids hand a bouquet that filled the whole 
 room with a rich, aromatic fragrance. 
 
 "Good-morning, Miss Wyvil! A Happy New Year 
 to you! This is the first I have made to-day, believe 
 me! I should have been here hours earlier, only I was 
 bound to hnve these flowers cut fresh this morning, 
 and to make sure of it I rode to the florist's at Frost- 
 hill, and selected them myself and saw them put up 
 myself. Fee, they have all long stems, and they will 
 keep a long time if you put them in water with a few 
 drops of ammonia. Will you kindly accept them?"
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 63 
 
 "Thank you very much; Mr. Hilary, they are really 
 beautiful," replied Lilith, with a slight smile at the 
 quaintness of her visitor's manners. "I hope your 
 mother and sisters are quite well," she added. 
 
 "Oh, just roaring well! Never were ill in all their 
 lives, and never were so well as now! How's all with 
 you?" 
 
 "My father is suffering from an attack of his old 
 malady, I regret to say," gravely replied Lilith. 
 
 "Eh! I didn't hear about it," exclaimed Hilary, 
 with awakened interest. 
 
 "Oh, it is only since yesterday afternoon." 
 
 "You don't say! Is he very bad?" 
 
 "Oh, I trust not! He is much better this morn- 
 ing," said Lilith, whose hopes had been much 
 strengthened. 
 
 "And the Honorable! Did he come down for the 
 holidays?" 
 
 "No, but he came this morning to see his father." 
 
 "But you say the major is better?" 
 
 "Yes, he is much better. 
 
 "I am glad of that. I wouldn't like anything to hap- 
 pen to the major. So glad! But I called this morning 
 not only to bring the flowers and wish you a Happy 
 New Year, but to ask you if you will do me the honor 
 to allow me to take you to the theatre to-night?" 
 
 "The theatre?" inquired Lilith, wondering what her 
 visitor meant by talking of a theatre in that mountain 
 wilderness and in the depth of winter. 
 
 "Yes. You see there has come 'The Grand 
 Montmorencie and Plantagenet Operatic and Drama- 
 tic Combination of Beauty and Talent from London 
 and Paris,' as the show-bills describe it, and they are 
 going to perform in the Town Hall at Frosthill. Per- 
 formance to open with the 'Opera of Figaro's Mar- 
 riage, to be followed by the tragedy of Macbeth, and 
 concluded with the roaring farce of Fortune's Frolic 1'
 
 Gl THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 Jnst see what a bill!" exclaimed the enthusiast, draw- 
 ing from his pocket that large roll of paper, unfurl- 
 ing it as a flag, and displaying the programme in 
 large letters of all the colors in the rainbow. 
 
 Lilith smiled at the excitement of "her visitor. 
 
 "Now, then! Will you go? If you will, I will have 
 the sleigh here on time, with plenty of bear-skins and 
 hot stones, and everything to make you comfortable; 
 and I will take first-rate care of you." 
 
 "I do not doubt it, and I am very grateful. But I 
 cannot accept your kind offer, for I must not leave 
 Major Hereward at this time," gently replied Lilith. 
 
 "Oh, but I thought he was so much better!" ex- 
 claimed the young man, in a surprised and disap- 
 pointed tone. 
 
 "He is better, thank Heaven, but lie is not well, 
 and I must not leave him." 
 
 "What a nuisance! And I thought I should have 
 the delight of taking you to the theatre to-night, and 
 of telling you but that I can do here!" said Hilary, as 
 he suddenly left his seat, drew a chair close to the side 
 of Lilith, and dropped into it. 
 
 Lilith lifted her eyes in surprise and questioning. 
 
 "May I tell you here, Miss Wyvil?" he entreated. 
 
 "What is it? Yes I don't know," replied the girl, 
 confused and somewhat frightened by his manner. 
 
 "I wanted to tell you Don't be afraid. Miss 
 Wyvil! Please don't be afraid, I wouldn't even lift 
 your hand to my lips without your leave, I have so 
 much respect as well as as the other, for you! In- 
 deed I have." 
 
 "I do not understand you," said Lilith, in a fittle, 
 low, timid voice, and speaking truly, for she really 
 did not know what he meant, and she feared her 
 visitor must have lost his wits. 
 
 "You you don't understand me?" uneasily inquired 
 Hilary.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 65 
 
 "No,'l do not." 
 
 "Well, that's very awkward. You don't know what 
 I want to tell you?" 
 
 "No, indeed." 
 
 "This is awful! It makes it so awkward! And I 
 never said it to any young lady before. And I hardly 
 know how to say it now. I thought you would be pre- 
 pared for it. And you are not?" 
 
 "Xo, I sa.v, I Hadn't you better compose your- 
 self, Mr. Hilary?" said Lilith, divided between her 
 sense of the duties of hospitality and her fears of her 
 visitor. 
 
 Hilary, who Taad left his seat and was walking 
 nervously up and down the room, shoved his long 
 fingers through his shock of red hai-r, and answered: 
 
 "Xo! I can't compose myself until I get this off my 
 mind. Oh, Miss Wyvil! You are not blind! You see 
 your lovely face in the glass sometimes. You must 
 know how charming you are. And how utterly impos- 
 sible it is for me, or for any oae, to see you and not to 
 to to admire you, to to like you, to love you, 
 in fact!" he stammered, blushing like a school-girl. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Hilary, pray, pray, do not," pleaded the 
 young lady, drawing away the hand that he clasped 
 and tried to hold. 
 
 "But I love you, indeed I do; I want to marry you, 
 indeed I do. It seems to me I never could be happy 
 without you. Why, I know I shan't even enjoy the 
 theatre to-night because I couldn't get you to come 
 with me. But you'll think better of it, won't you? 
 Xow that you know I love you and want to marry 
 you, you will come with me after all, won't you? Say, 
 won't you?" 
 
 "I am sorry to disappoint you, but I cannot leave 
 Major Hereward," pleaded Lilith, making her refusal 
 as kind as possible. 
 
 "Well, I suppose I must give that pleasure up. But
 
 66 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 you will marry me, Miss Lilith, won't you, now? You'd 
 never find any one to love you better than I do, or any 
 one more willing to let you walk right over him than I 
 am. Do now, Miss Lilith. Only consent to have me, 
 and you shall have your own way in every blessed 
 respect in this world," he pleaded, losing his timidity 
 and his awkwardness in his earnestness. 
 
 "Oh! Mr. Hilary, I am so very sorry to hear you say 
 all this! For I cannot respond. But yon have known 
 me such a little time that I cannot in any way be 
 necessary to your welfare or happiness. I hope you 
 will soon forget to think of me in any way but as a 
 good friend," gently replied the girl. 
 
 "Known you such a little time? Oh! Miss Lilith, 
 what has time to do with love? AYitli real, true love, 
 I mean, not with the counterfeit which often goes by 
 its name. Oh, Miss Lilith! the first time I ever saw 
 you, when we first came to the neighborhood last 
 summer, and you and the major and the honorable 
 called on us at Rushmore's, I felt like the poet says: 
 
 'As if my soul that moment caught 
 A something it through life had sought.' 
 
 Thomas Moore, you know! So do not talk of time in 
 regard to love. Yet, if you want a few hours to think 
 of this, I will try to wait." 
 
 "I do not want a moment to think of it, Mr. Hilary, 
 if you please. I am quite certain that I shall never 
 care for you except as a friend and neighbor. So pray 
 let this subject drop forever. You do not know how 
 it distresses me," said Lilith, gravely. 
 
 "I wouldn't distress you for the whole world, Miss 
 Lilith! Perhaps I have been too sudden in my my 
 my proposal. If I have you will please to excuse me, 
 for I am new to this sort of thing. I never said such 
 words as I have said to you to any other young lady in 
 the world. No, nor never wished to say them to any
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 67 
 
 other. You are my first love, Miss Lilith, as I hope 
 and pray I may be yours." 
 
 "Oh! please, please say no more, Mr. Hilary. You 
 do me great honor, and I thank you; but please say 
 no more; you do distress me very much," begged the 
 
 girl. 
 
 "Well, I'll not say any more just at present. But 
 I know you will think of what I have said to you, 
 and I will wait and hope." 
 
 As the young man uttered these persistent words 
 the door swung slowly open, and Tudor Hereward 
 walked into the room. 
 
 "Is Major Hereward awake? Does he want me?" 
 inquired Lilith, rising with a sigh of infinite relief. 
 
 "No, Nancy and Stephen are waiting on him. He 
 does not want you yet; but I shall presently. Good- 
 morning, Mr. Hilary. I wish you a Happy New Year," 
 said the young man, advancing to shake hands with 
 the visitor. 
 
 "The same to you and many of them, sir," replied 
 the youth, blushing violently as he returned the greet- 
 ing. 
 
 "How have you managed to live now that the in- 
 clemency of the weather has stopped all traveling cir- 
 cuses and wild beast shows?" inquired Tudor Here- 
 ward, taking a chair at the fire and inviting the visitor 
 by a polite gesture to resume his own seat. 
 
 "Oh! as to that! Haven't you seen the posters? 
 No? Why, they are all over the village, and on every 
 roadside barn, and on . every turnpike gate. 'The 
 Grand Montmorencie and Plantagenet Operatic and 
 Dramatic Combination of Beauty and Talent, from 
 London and Paris/ " replied Hilary, hitching up his 
 chair and launching out into a florid eulogium on the 
 expected entertainment. 
 
 "From Paris, eh?" inquired Tudor Hereward, with a 
 dubious smile.
 
 68 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "And London," emphatically added Hilary. 
 
 "Strange they should honor our little out-of-the-wa7 
 village while the great cities must be awaiting them 
 with breathless impatience." 
 
 "Well, now, isn't it? But still, it is none of our 
 business, so that we benefit by it, is it?" inquired the 
 unsuspicious boy. 
 
 "Not that I am aware of," laughed Mr. Hereward. 
 
 "You'll go to see them to-night, of course?" con- 
 tinued Hilary. 
 
 "No; my father is too ill to be left." 
 
 "Why, Miss Wyvil says he is better." 
 
 "He is better, but not well enough to be left." 
 
 "Oh! I'm very sorry. Please give my respects to 
 him, and tell him that I hope he w r ill soon be about 
 again. And now I think I must go," said the youth, 
 who, seeing that there was not the faintest hope 
 for the renewal of his tete-a-tete with Lilith, arose 
 and took his leave. 
 
 ANOTHER PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE 
 
 "WHAT brought that cub here this morning, Lilith?" 
 inquired Tudor Hereward, as soon as Rufus Hilary 
 had disappeared. 
 
 "A New Year's call," replied the girl. 
 
 "And that bouquet?" 
 
 "A New Year's offering. I shall put them in water, 
 and place them on a stand beside Major Hereward's 
 bed." 
 
 "Were they brought for Major Hereward?" 
 
 "Mr. Hilary brought them for me." 
 
 "Let me put them in water, Lilith, and then let me 
 have a little talk with you," said Hereward, as he took 
 the bouquet from her hands, and placed it temporarily 
 in a water carafe that stood upon a side table.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 69 
 
 Then he returned to his seat, drew his chair nearer, 
 took her hand in his, and said: 
 
 "Lilith, my father wishes that you and I should 
 marry. What do you say? Will you take me for 
 your husband?'' 
 
 She lifted her dark eyes to his eyes with one swift 
 and swiftly-withdrawn glance, so full of shy love and 
 joy and delight, that he for the first time recognized 
 the beauty of the girl's spirit, and gazed upon the soft 
 shadow of the downcast lashes on the blushing cheeks 
 with admiration, if not with affection. 
 
 "Come, little darling, what do you say? Will you 
 give yourself to me?" 
 
 "If if you want me, Mr. Hereward," she whispered, 
 in a voice so low and timid that he had to bend his 
 head to hear her words. 
 
 "That is right," he said, as he drew her to his bosora y 
 and pressed his lips to hers, thus bestowing upon the 
 heart which adored him one moment of unutterable 
 bliss. "That is right. Now we will go to the father, 
 and make his heart glad with the news." And drawing 
 his betrothed bride's arm within his own, he led her 
 upstairs and into the sick-room. Nancy was sitting 
 by the bed, but she immediately arose and made way 
 for the gentleman and lady. Tudor Hereward led 
 Lilith up to his father's side, and said: 
 
 "I have brought you my wife that you may bless 
 us both." 
 
 The blessing given, the father said : 
 
 "And now, Tudor, you must send into Frosthill for 
 the minister and the license. You can write a note to 
 the Rev. Mr. Cave, and ask him to bring the license 
 with him, and we will have the marriage ceremony 
 performed this evening." 
 
 Tudor Hereward, with a slight bow of assent, went 
 to the little writing table that stood in the corner of 
 the room, sat down and wrote the note to the Rector
 
 70 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 of St. Mark's Church at Frosthill, and then went out 
 to dispatch it by one of the grooms. 
 
 Lilith remained seated by the bed, with her hand 
 clasped in that of her foster-father. 
 
 "My daughter, bring my bunch of keys, dear." 
 
 Major Hereward selected one key, detached it from 
 the ring and held it in his hand, while he said: 
 
 "Lilith, my darling, do you remember a large, old- 
 fashioned, black hair trunk that stands among other 
 trunks, barrels and boxes in the northeast garret 
 room? That trunk has not been opened for seventeen 
 years. It is yours, my dear Lilith, as it was youi 
 dear father's and mother's before you. It was, in fact, 
 all that they left you. From its contents you will 
 learn more of your family history than even I know; 
 for I have never looked into the packets of letters 
 which I sealed up and locked in that trunk. This, 
 my dear, is the key." 
 
 At that moment the door opened and Dr. Kerr, the 
 family physician, walked in, followed by Nancy. 
 
 Lilith arose and bowed to the doctor, and withdrew 
 from the room, as was her custom when he entered it. 
 She went to her own chamber and lay down, trying in 
 vain to gain a little of the sleep she so much needed. 
 But the excitement of the day had been too great. 
 She could not compose herself to rest. At length she 
 arose, re-arranged her dress and went down the hall 
 to the little closet occupied by Nancy, who sat there 
 knitting as usual. 
 
 "\Yho is with Major Hereward?" she inquired of the 
 woman. 
 
 "Marse Dr. Kerr is wid him. Ole Marse Major ax 
 Marse Dr. pertickler to stay long ob him dis ebenin' 
 to witness somefin'." 
 
 "To witness what?" inquired Lilith, with a con- 
 scious blush. 
 
 "Oh! I dunno. Somefin'! Maybe his will!"
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 71 
 
 "Did the doctor say how Major Here ward is?" 
 
 "Yes, honey! He say as how he is better; how he 
 may pull t'rough dis time too, same as he allers did." 
 
 It was Lilith's habit to refrain from entering the 
 sick-chamber while the doctor was present there. So 
 she went down into the family parlor, where she had 
 eaten her breakfast that morning. 
 
 That evening Lilith went to her wardrobe to select 
 her gown. She had one evening dress noticeable only 
 for its simple elegance. 
 
 It was of pure white silk, with an overskirt of white 
 tulle, looped with white moss rosebuds. This, with the 
 white gaiters, and white kid gloves, white fan, wreath, 
 and pearl jewelry that belonged to the toilet, had been 
 prepared for a party which was to come off on Old 
 Christmas Day, and to which the girl had been invited. 
 It was extremely unlikely, under present prospects, 
 that she would attend this party; but the dress came 
 in now very conveniently for the marriage ceremony. 
 
 So she took heart of grace, and putting her pretty 
 feet into silken hose and white kid gaiters, she dressed 
 herself in the simple but elegant costume of white 
 tulle, looped with white moss roses over white silk. 
 She placed a bunch of white moss rosebuds on her 
 bosom, and a necklace and bracelets of pearls around 
 her pretty throat and wrists. 
 
 With a silent prayer for the Lord's help and bless- 
 ing in this crisis of her life, she opened the door and 
 went out. In the hall she was met by the gray-haired 
 doctor, who surveyed her with surprise and admira- 
 tion for a moment as he said: 
 
 "Come, my pretty, little lady-love. The major sent 
 me out here to wait for you and bring you in." 
 
 And he drew Lilith's arm within his own and led her 
 into the sick-room. 
 
 The minister, the Rev. Mr. Cave, a half-brother of 
 Dr. Kerr, and bearing a very striking resemblance to
 
 72 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 the physician, even to the red face and gray hair, 
 dressed in his full canonicals, stood near the fire. 
 
 Mr. Hereward was also there, in full evening dress, 
 with white kid gloves. 
 
 As Lilith, led in by the doctor, entered the room, 
 Tudor, with a sudden radiance of surprise and 
 pleasure in his eyes, went to meet her. 
 
 But Lilith, with downcast looks and flushed cheeks, 
 passed directly to the bedside, to place her hand in the 
 outstretched palm of her dear foster-father. 
 
 "How pretty you are, my darling! Kiss me, my 
 precious one, my pearl of pearls! Give me your last 
 girl's kiss!" he said, drawing her towards him. 
 
 She would have clasped her arms around his neck 
 but that his head lay prone upon the pillow. But she 
 took his face between her white-gloved hands, and 
 stooping, kissed his lips again and again, with glow- 
 ing emotion, until she felt her arm gently clasped and 
 she heard the low-toned voice of her betrothed saying: 
 
 "Come, Lilith. You are agitating yourself and my 
 father. Come, the minister waits." 
 
 And the impressive ceremony proceeded to its con- 
 clusion. 
 
 After the benediction had been pronounced the two 
 gray-haired half-brothers, the parson and the doctor, 
 shook hands with bride and bridegroom and wished 
 them every joy. 
 
 Then Tudor led Lilith up to the bedside, and she 
 stooped and kissed the father, giving him the first 
 bride's as she had given him the last girl's kiss. He 
 smiled up in her eyes, reached his hand out and 
 clasped the hand of his son for a few moments, and 
 then his fingers relaxed and he instantly fell into one 
 of those sudden sleeps of profound exhaustion which 
 were so frequent with him now.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 78 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 LILITH'S DISCOVERY 
 
 "HE sleeps," whispered Hereward, bending to look 
 closely into his father's face. "I think he will do well 
 now. How say you, doctor?" 
 
 "I think so, too, Hereward/' replied the physician, 
 who had come up to the bedside, and whose "wish was 
 father to his thought." "And now, as the major is 
 doing so well, I must really get into the saddle, for 1 
 have yet some patients to see, late as it is. Will you 
 kindly order my horse?" 
 
 "Not until you have joined Mr. Cave and myself in a 
 glass of wine below stairs. Will you come, sir?" in- 
 quired the young man, addressing the minister. 
 
 The latter bowed, and smiled acquiescence. And the 
 three gentlemen turned to leave the room. 
 
 As soon as they had left the room Lilith went 
 silently to the dressing-closet where Nancy usually 
 sat, knitting or sewing, listening and peeping. 
 
 "Now, Nancy, I wish you to go and sit by my 
 father, and watch him carefully, while I change my 
 dress," said Lilith. 
 
 "Yer ain't gwine to take off dat boot'ful dress till 
 bedtime, I hopes, Miss Lilith," objected the woman. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I must. I wish to resume my place by 
 father's side, and so must change it," Lilith explained. 
 
 The woman said no more, but passed into the sick- 
 room. 
 
 Lilith went to her own chamber and quickly made 
 the change. 
 
 Then she reappeared in Major Here ward's room 
 dressed in her home costume of soft crimson cashmere. 
 
 Nancy vacated her seat and retired to the sewing- 
 closet.
 
 74 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 Lilith sat down and looked at the invalid. 
 
 He seemed to be sleeping quietly, and the watcher 
 leaned back in her chair and closed her tired eyes; but 
 presently her attention was attracted by the sound of 
 heavy breathing, and she arose and looked at the inva- 
 lid again. 
 
 His face had changed. His eyes were wide open 
 and fixed. He was breathing laboriously. 
 
 "Father, father," she said, taking his hand and 
 bending over him. 
 
 He neither answered nor in any way noticed her. 
 
 She had had no experience with death. She had 
 never seen anyone die. Yet now her breath was sus- 
 pended, and her own life seemed going from her, as 
 she recognized these sure signs of dissolution. 
 
 Swiftly and silently she passed to the closet where 
 the woman in attendance sat sewing. 
 
 "Nancy! Oh, Nancy! Go and call Mr. Hereward! 
 And if the doctor and the rector have not left the 
 house, ask them to come up," she said, in a tone 
 scarcely intelligible from excessive agitation. 
 
 "Is the ole marse worse?" exclaimed the woman, as 
 she hastily threw aside her work and started up, 
 alarmed at the young lady's words and looks. 
 
 "I fear so. Hurry, Nancy, hurry!" 
 
 The woman ran downstairs. Lilith hastened back to 
 the bedside. Mr. Hereward, Dr. Kerr and the Kev. 
 Mr. Cave came quickly into the room. Lilith sat by the 
 bed, holding the hand of the dying man. She laid it 
 down and left her place to the doctor, who came up 
 and felt the pulse. Mr. Cave stood beside him. Tudor 
 and Lilith, nearly overcome with emotion, yet keeping 
 their feelings under outward control, stood at the op- 
 posite side. Nancy stood at the foot of the bed. 
 
 "Can nothing be done?" inquired the son, in a voice 
 of deep pain. 
 
 "Nothing," gravely replied the doctor.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 75 
 
 "Could you not try stimulants? electricity?' 1 per- 
 sistently inquired the son, in a low voice. 
 
 "Useless torture! He is dying fast. Be strong, my 
 friend, and look to your wife," whispered the doctor. 
 
 Lilith needed support. Pale as death, trembling and 
 almost fainting, she stood leaning against the foot- 
 board. Tudor passed his arm around her waist, whis- 
 pered some words of encouragement, and so sustained 
 her in her weakness. It was soon over. One long, 
 shuddering sigh and the struggling heart was still. 
 Dr. Kerr closed his sightless eyes, and drew the sheet 
 smoothly over the dead face. 
 
 "Let us pray," whispered the rector. 
 
 And the little group knelt around that death-bed, 
 and, led by the minister, prayed that this sorrow 
 might be sanctified to their souls' good. 
 
 When they arose, Tudor Hereward put his arm 
 around the waist of his weeping young wife, and led 
 her from the death-chamber to her room, and after 
 speaking such words of comfort as his grief-stricken 
 heart could suggest, he left her to the care of the 
 sympathizing colored women who had crowded about 
 the doors at the sign of death. Then Tudor Here- 
 ward went to his own room and locked himself in, 
 to struggle alone with his great sorrow. 
 
 Five days later the mortal remains of the elder 
 Tudor Hereward were laid in the family vault of St. 
 Mark's Church, Frosthill, in the presence of a large 
 congregation of friends and neighbors. 
 
 And the next day Tudor Hereward the younger 
 announced his intention of returning to Washington 
 by the evening train. 
 
 "I shall leave you in charge here, Lilith," he said, 
 "with full powers to act during my absence. I cannot 
 take you with me to subject you to the discomforts of 
 hotel life or the distractions of Washington society. 
 IVrhaps by the next winter a year hence I may be able
 
 76 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 to take a house and fit it up for you ; but in the mean- 
 time you are better off here. Shall you mind being 
 left here for the present?" 
 
 She hesitated; for she did mind very much. 
 
 "Shall you be afraid to stay here alone?" he in- 
 quired, varying the question. 
 
 "Oh, no, not at all afraid!" promptly replied Lilith, 
 glad that she could answer truthfully, as well as satis- 
 factorily. 
 
 "That is well! You are a brave little woman, 1 
 know. And in fact there is nothing to fear. You will 
 be perfectly safe here with so many servants in the 
 house." 
 
 "Yes," said Lilith. 
 
 "This is the long session, as you are aware, and Con- 
 gress will not adjourn before the first of June, and 
 may not do so even then; but I shall try to run down 
 and see you in the interim, if only to spend a Sunday. 
 You will be glad to see me as an occasional visitor, 
 mistress?" he inquired, with a grave smile, putting his 
 fingers under her chin and lifting her sweet, downcast 
 face. "Look at me and answer, Lilith!" 
 
 "I shall be very, very glad to see you," she mur- 
 mured, in a low tone, with a swift, shy glance of her 
 dark eyes and a deepening blush. 
 
 "And I shall be glad to come whenever I may do 
 so, Lilith," he said, stooping and leaving a kiss upon 
 her budding red lips. 
 
 "Must you really go by this evening's train?" she in- 
 quired. 
 
 "Yes, dear, for I must be in my seat when the house 
 meets at noon to-morrow. There is business before 
 the house in which I am deeply interested, and for 
 which I have been working very hard." 
 
 "It is so sudden. I did not think you were going 
 away so very soon," she said, regretfully.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 77 
 
 "Did you not? But you surely knew, dear, that 
 duty calls me to Washington." 
 
 " I ought to have known ; but I did not reflect. I see 
 now, of course." 
 
 "I have been absent from my seat five days. I must 
 not stay away longer." 
 
 "I see I know; it is very sudden, but it cannot be 
 helped. Can I assist you in getting ready?" 
 
 "No, dear; there is nothing with which you need 
 trouble yourself." 
 
 "Your valise?" 
 
 "It is packed, dear." 
 
 "Luncheon put up?" 
 
 "I shall not want any. Leaving Frosthill by the 6 
 p. M. express, I shall reach Washington by 9 A. M., time 
 enough for breakfast. So, dear, all that I shall require 
 will be a substantial tea before I leave home. Now I 
 must go and speak to Fielding, and give him some in- 
 structions in regard to the management of the place 
 during my absence," said Mr. Hereward, leaving the 
 sitting-room to join the overseer, who was waiting for 
 him in the office, at the end of the hall. 
 
 Lilith sent one of the young housemaids to call 
 Nancy to her presence Nancy, to whose duties of 
 permanent seamstress and occasional nurse were 
 added those of general housekeeping. The woman 
 came in, wearing, as mourning for her late master, 
 what she called a "solid" black calico dress, black 
 shawl, apron and turban. 
 
 "Nancy, Mr. Hereward is to start for Washington 
 by the evening train," said Lilith. 
 
 "An' take you 'long ob him?" inquired the woman. 
 
 "Oh, no, it would not be expedient under the cir- 
 cumstances." 
 
 "Wot saecumstanches?" demanded the woman, 
 with the bluntness of an old and esteemed family 
 servant.
 
 78 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "It would not be seemly that I, just married and in 
 deep mourning for the death of our father, should go 
 to a hotel in Washington, at the height of the gay 
 season, where, as the wife of a prominent public man, 
 I should be subjected to remark, whether I should go 
 into company, or should rigorously seclude myself. 
 You understand these things, Nancy." 
 
 "Fack, honey, I tell yer! Yer's right! Dis worl' is 
 wery wicious! But ef yer can't go, wot he go for? 
 Dat wot I want to know." 
 
 "Of course Mr. Hereward must return to his official 
 duties. He cannot absent himself from them. And 
 they will occupy him. He need not, and will not, 
 enter into society, or be criticised for keeping out 
 of it." 
 
 " Tears to me as ge'men can do jes' as dey pleases 
 an' ladies can't. 'Deed it's de trufe!" 
 
 "Well, Nancy, I did not call you in to discuss this 
 point, but to tell you that Mr. Hereward will leave 
 here at five to catch the six o'clock train; so I wish 
 you to see that the nicest and most substantial tea be 
 ready for him at half-past four. I know I may trust 
 it to you. Remember that he will travel all night." 
 
 "I'll 'member, Miss Lilith! I'll get young marse a 
 staff ob life wot will prop him up till breakfas' time to- 
 morrow mornin'; eben ef he had to walk all de way 
 f'om Cloud Claps to Washin'ton! Le's see," she said, 
 beginning to count on her fingers; "beefsteak dat de 
 bes' stan'-by ob all! brile pattridge, poach eggs, rice 
 cakes " 
 
 And so muttering and counting she passed out of 
 the room. 
 
 Lilith sat down and waited for the return of her 
 husband, meditating whether she might ask him to 
 let her go with him as far as the station and see him 
 off. 
 
 Ah! for the unloved wife!
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 79 
 
 And yet she did not know that she was not loved. 
 Tudor Hereward had asked her to give herself to him; 
 therefore, of course, he must have loved her. This, 
 without a thought or a question, she had taken for 
 granted. 
 
 She had been useful and indispensable to the foster- 
 father who had passed away. She had been the con- 
 stant companion of his secluded life. She had walked 
 and driven with him; and had read to him or sung 
 his favorite songs, or talked with him over their 
 favorite books in the evenings. 
 
 He had often told her how much he hoped that she 
 would be to his son all and much more than ever she 
 had been even to him. And he had praised that son, 
 again and again, to such a high degree that Lilith had 
 grown to believe him the very ideal of good, wise and 
 heroic manhood, and to love, revere and worship him 
 in her heart as a demi-god. 
 
 But then, the girl was very young, and entirely 
 ignorant of the world and of life. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 LILITH'S FATAL LEGACY 
 
 No, he had married her, therefore he loved her, and 
 no doubt he suffered as much as she herself did in this 
 trying separation; though he did not show it, being so 
 much stronger and more self-controlled than she was. 
 
 So ran the current of her thoughts through the two 
 hours that she awaited the return of her husband. 
 
 At length the interview with the overseer ended and 
 Tudor Hereward entered the room, his ulster hanging 
 over one arm and his valise in his hand. 
 
 He glanced at the clock over the mantel-piece, and 
 said:
 
 80 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "It is half -past four and the sleigh is at the door, 
 Lilith." 
 
 "And tea is ready, I know. I ordered it at this 
 hour, and Gassy is always punctual," said Lilith, 
 touching the bell. 
 
 "Bring in the tea immediately," she said to the boy 
 that answered the summons. 
 
 And then as they walked into the dining-room, 
 Lilith took heart to ask: 
 
 "Shall I go with you to the depot, Tudor?" 
 
 He turned and looked at her with surprise, and see- 
 ing the eager light in her dark eyes, he answered: 
 
 "Certainly, if you would like to go, Lilith, but it is 
 not necessary, you know." 
 
 "I should like to go." 
 
 "Very well, then do so. But it is going to be a very 
 cold night, my dear, and } r ou will be very late getting 
 home." 
 
 "I shall not mind that. I would rather go unless 
 unless I should inconvenience you," she said, 
 hesitatingly. 
 
 "Not in the least degree." 
 
 By this time they had reached the dining-room, 
 where the table was set out with an appetizing tea- 
 dinner. 
 
 She took her place at the head of the table and he 
 sat down at the foot. 
 
 After she had helped him to everything in her reach, 
 she backoned Alick, who was waiting upon them, to 
 come to her, and said: 
 
 "Go upstairs and ask Nancy to give you my fur- 
 lined cloak, muff, hood, vail and gloves. Bring them 
 down and leave them in the parlor, and then fill a 
 bottle of hot water and put it in the bottom of the 
 sleigh." 
 
 ?he man went on his errand and Lilith poured out a 
 cup of tea and drank it.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 81 
 
 Soon after this they arose from the table and went 
 into the parlor, where Tudor Hereward encased him- 
 self in his ulster and sealskin cap and gloves, and 
 Lilith wrapped herself in all her furs. 
 
 Then they went out and took their seats in the 
 sleigh, that was well furnished with white bearskins, 
 and driven by Stephen, who was as well defended from 
 the freezing cold of the night as were his master and 
 mistress. 
 
 The ground was very thickly covered with frozen 
 snow, that beamed softly under the light of stars 
 shining as they only shine on clear winter nights. 
 
 The sleigh flew on to the merry sound of silvery 
 bells, down the larch-flanked avenue, and through the 
 lodge gate, which Alick, sent in advance, held open. 
 
 "Good luck to yer, young marse an' mis'!" he said, 
 taking off his hat and bowing as the sleigh flew on 
 through the gate, over the frozen fields and through 
 the woods until it reached the country road that led 
 along the foot of the Cloud-Capped Cliffs, to the dis- 
 tant county seat and railway station at Frosthill. 
 
 "Are you quite warm enough, Lilith?" inquired 
 Tudor Hereward, as he turned and carefully folded 
 her fur circular over her chest, and drew up the bear- 
 skins closely around her lap. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I am quite comfortable, thank you, 
 Tudor." 
 
 "It is a tremendous night! The wind in our faces 
 cuts like a razor! Double your vail over your faco, 
 Lilith." 
 
 "Oh, indeed, I don't mind the cold! I am quite us^d 
 to it! Don't you remember after the snow-storm of 
 the fifteenth, how intensely cold it was?" 
 
 "Ah! 2 do remember. I was in Washington. The 
 Potomac River froze over that night." 
 
 "Well, Major Hereward and I went sleigh-riding
 
 82 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 every day, and we played at snow-balling after we 
 came home!" 
 
 "You and my father!" exclaimed Mr. Hereward, 
 turning around and looking at her with astonishment. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," she said, proudly. 
 
 "Snow-balling!" 
 
 "Oh, yes! we used to play snow-balling on the lawn 
 every winter that I was at home as long as as far 
 back as I can remember. Didn't you know that?" 
 
 "No, indeed I did not! I knew that you, on occasion, 
 made yourself into a little old woman to adapt your- 
 self to his tastes in his reading and other things; but 
 I had no idea that he ever became a boy to adapt 
 himself to you!" 
 
 "Oh, indeed there was no question of youth or age 
 between us! We were fast friends and good comrades 
 in everything. I enjoyed reading his grave books as 
 much as he did hearing them. And I know that he 
 liked to sleigh and skate and play snow-ball just as 
 well as I did! We were good comrades always!" 
 
 "It seems that I have much to learn of your life 
 with my father, Lilith!" 
 
 "Oh, yes, and I shall like so much to tell you! For, 
 of course, when you were at school and at college, you 
 could not know how we were employing or amusing 
 ourselves at home," she answered, simply. 
 
 The sleigh flew on with such speed that already the 
 lights of the railway station gleamed before them in 
 the distance. 
 
 In ten more minutes they were at the station, and 
 only just in time, with not a minute to spare. 
 
 "Do not attempt to get out, Lilith. I shall have to 
 make a rush for the ticket-office and then for the train. 
 Good-bye, my dear! Take care of yourself! I shall 
 write from Washington," he said, hurriedly leaving 
 the sleigh, after he had carefully tucked the bear- 
 skins around her, but forgetting to kiss her.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 83 
 
 She watched him yearningly as he ran across the 
 open space and into the ticket-office. She saw him 
 emerge in half a minute and jump on board the train, 
 just as the huge monster snorted out of the station. 
 She watched the train rush on until it was swallowed 
 up by the forest on the horizon, and then she gave 
 the order to her coachman to drive home. 
 
 Lilith felt disappointed, desolate and depressed as 
 she entered her home. 
 
 Nancy opened the door and Lilith entered her 
 chamber. 
 
 A roaring fire in the broad chimney-place lighted up 
 the whole room, so that it needed no other light. A 
 large, deep-cushioned easy-chair stood before the fire, 
 with a footstool on the rug below it. Over the back of 
 the chair hung a wadded silk wrapper, and on the 
 footstool lay a pair of wadded velvet slippers. 
 
 "Come, set right down here now, an' le' me tak' off 
 yer fings an' make yer right comfo'ble," said Nancy, 
 seating her young mistress in the easy-chair and begin- 
 ning to remove her outer garments. 
 
 "Thank you, thank you," exclaimed Lilith, when her 
 dress had been changed for the warm, loose wrapper, 
 and she was reposing at ease among her cushions. 
 
 "An' now le' me take off yer boots an' put dese 
 warm slippers on yer feet. An' now, honey, sip yer 
 hot mulled wine an' yer'll be all right!" concluded 
 the woman, pouring the rich, spicy cordial from the 
 pitcher into a cut-glass mug and handing it to the 
 chilled girl. 
 
 "Oh, Nancy, dear heart, how good you are to me! 
 How careful and considerate! Like a very mother! 
 Nancy, did you know my parents?" gently inquired 
 Lilith. 
 
 "Know um, honey? No, I didn't know um ob my 
 own se'f. I nebber seed neider ob um in my life! 
 But I heerd about um, arter dey was bofe gone to
 
 84 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 glory, an' I nebber heerd nuffin but good about bofe 
 ob um." 
 
 "Will you tell me what you heard, Nancy?" 
 
 "Well, it wasn't much, 'caze nobody knowed much 
 ob um, 'caze dey lib so s'cluded, yer see. But wot I did 
 hear was all good. Dey bofe was much 'spected. Dey 
 'longed to de church, an' I hope it was de right one, 
 for deir sakes. Anyways, de parson fought a heap ob 
 um, so de neighbors said. An' w'en de sexton went 
 'way Wes', to make a fortin, parson offered sexton's 
 place to him, yer own fader, honey. But yer fader 
 'clined de office on 'count ob libin' near de grabeyard 
 might hab a 'pressin' 'feet on de sperrits ob yer 
 mudder, honey. So de neighbors said. An' dey 
 fought how it was so noble ob yer po' fader to 'cline 
 sich a easy place an' good pay jus' on 'count ob a 
 nerbous 'oman's sperrits, w'en he had to work so hard 
 at sich low wages for deir libbin', too." 
 
 The next morning a furious snow-storm was raging 
 outside nothing was to be seen but the whirling 
 white flakes driven thickly against the windows. 
 Lilith stepped out of bed, thrust her feet into slippers, 
 her arms into the sleeves of her warm wadded 
 wrapper, and went to the window to look out. 
 
 No, nothing to be seen but the wild whirl of snow. 
 
 At breakfast Nancy inquired: 
 
 "Does yer memorize as dis is Ole Christmas Day, 
 Miss Lilith?" 
 
 "Yes, of course." 
 
 "An' yer was 'wited to a party at ole Missus Jor- 
 dan's dis ebenin'?" 
 
 "Yes; but of course the family know what has hap- 
 pened." 
 
 "Couldn't help knowin'! But who'd 'a' fought it 
 'fo'hand? But dere, I ain't a-gwine to talk 'bout dat 
 'pressing subject. How yer gwine 'muse yerse'f to-
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 85 
 
 day, Miss Lilith? 'Deed I's feared yer'll be awful lone- 
 some. Wot yen gwine do, anyway?" 
 
 "I shall look over the contents of a trunk which was 
 brought away from my dear parents' home, after their 
 death." 
 
 "Yer nebber see inter de inside ob dat trunk, Miss 
 Lilith?" 
 
 "No, never. Did you, Nancy?" 
 
 "Hi, honey, I packed it myse'f, under de ole 
 mnrster's 'rection, same day I went to Sea wood to 
 fetch you away. Law! wot a little, deliky slip ob a 
 baby you was den!" 
 
 Leaving Nancy to clear away the table, Lilith went 
 up two flights of stairs and reached the old-fashioned 
 garret, that contained but one large room, which occu- 
 pied the whole of that floor and was lighted by four 
 large dormer windows two on each side, and four 
 other windows two at each end. All the windows on 
 the north and west sides were blockaded with snow. 
 The garret was the receptacle for all the broken and 
 disused furniture, boxes, barrels, rag-bags and trunks. 
 It was the rubbish room, or "Chamber of Desolation, " 
 which every large homestead is bound to possess. 
 Lilith soon discovered the trunk in question. Lying 
 up against it half concealing it was an old spin- 
 ning-wheel, a child's high chair and a reel. Lilith's 
 first thought had been to open the trunk on the spot, 
 but the intense cold of the garret seemed to penetrate 
 to her heart, and her hands became numb and icy. 
 The outside of the trunk, as well as all the rest of the 
 articles in the garret, was covered with dust and cob- 
 webs. 
 
 So upon the whole Lilith decided to go downstairs 
 and send one of the men-servants up to brush, the 
 trunk and bring it down into her bedroom. 
 
 So she went below and gave directions to this effect, 
 and then entered her chamber to await its arrival.
 
 86 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 In a few minutes Alick came in, bringing the trunk 
 on his strong shoulders. He set it down on the floor 
 before his mistress, bowed respectfully and left the 
 room. 
 
 Lilith drew the key from her pocket and arose and 
 knelt down before the trunk a very old-fashioned 
 black hair trunk about three feet long by two broad 
 and high, and with the owner's initials, J. W., in 
 large brass-headed tacks. 
 
 It had been very thoroughly brushed, so that not a 
 fibre of cobweb or a grain of dust was left on it. 
 
 Lilith, with an interest entirely free from any mis- 
 giving, put the key in the lock and tried to turn it. 
 But the rusty lock at first resisted all her efforts. Oh, 
 that the key had been broken in the ward, with no 
 locksmith in the neighborhood to remedy the accident! 
 
 Had Major Hereward known what that discovery 
 would be to Lilith he would have burned the trunk and 
 its contents rather than that it should ever have fallen 
 into Lilith's hands to blight her life, and he would 
 have consigned Lilith herself to an asylum or left her 
 to his son's charity rather than ever have made her 
 his son's wife. 
 
 But in truth he neither knew nor suspected that 
 there could be anything in that collection of 
 memorials fraught with disaster or danger to Lilith. 
 What could there have been, indeed? He had super- 
 intended the packing, locking and sealing of the 
 trunk, with all its parcels of letters and papers intact, 
 tied up as they had been left after the death of 
 Lilith's mother. He would have thought it desecra- 
 tion to have disturbed them, and so, ignorantly and 
 unconsciously, he left them to ruin the peace of his 
 innocent and beloved daughter. 
 
 Lilith at length succeeded in turning the key in the 
 harsh, rusty old lock, and raising the lid by*its stiff 
 hinges, with a feeling of pensive pleasure in the an-
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 87 
 
 ticipation of looking into the past life of her dear 
 father and mother, and with no foreboding that she 
 was on the brink of an appalling discovery. 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 A FAINT odor of embalming spices, which had nearly 
 lost their strength, pervaded the interior. Lilith 
 turned away her head from the sickly aroma to get a 
 breath of purer air, and then she took off the coarse 
 brown wrapping paper that lay over the contents, and 
 exposed to view several thin muslin bags of sweet 
 herbs and berries; a neatly-folded white muslin dress, 
 which seemed to have been put away when quite new; 
 a pair of white kid slippers wrapped in tissue paper; 
 white kid gloves similarly done up; a small white 
 paste-board box which, on being opened, was found to 
 contain a spray of orange flowers and a set of white 
 carnelian earrings and breast-pin. 
 
 Lilith took these out one by one, reverently pressing 
 each article to her lips before she laid it down on the 
 carpet. 
 
 Then she lifted another layer of brown paper and 
 more thin spice bags, and found beneath them what 
 seemed to be the Sunday clothes of a young workman: 
 a coat and a pair of pantaloons of navy blue; a vest of 
 white jeans and gloves of white doeskin all of which, 
 probably, formed the wedding suit of the young 
 father; and must have been put away while still quite 
 new. 
 
 She took off a third layer of brown paper and still 
 more thin bags of spices, and revealed a sort of floor of 
 books. These she began to take out and lay upon the
 
 88 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 carpet two pocket Bibles; two prayer-books; two x 
 hymnals, all well thumbed; a PXgrim's Progress, Bax- 
 ter's Saint's Rest, Medical Guide, Cook's Companion, 
 and six volumes of Sherwood's Lady of the Manor. 
 
 She took the first Bible in her hand and turned to 
 the fly-leaf to see if there were any writing on it. She 
 found this, written in a very clear, fine hand: "Josepk 
 Wyvil, Rockton, Yorkshire." 
 
 She kissed the name, her father's name, probably 
 written by her father's hand. She laid aside the book 
 and took up the second Bible, turned to the fly-leaf 
 and read simply: "Elizabeth, from Joseph." 
 
 She laid aside this book also and took up the others 
 in turn. Each and all bore the name of Joseph or of 
 Elizabeth Wyvil, and sometimes the names of both, as 
 when the book was the gift of one to the other. 
 
 The removal of the fourth layer of brown paper and 
 spice bags discovered many parcels neatly tied up and 
 arranged. 
 
 The first that Lilith laid her hands on proved to be a 
 flat tin box, similar to those used by druggists to pack 
 seidlitz powders. Lilith opened this and found two 
 photographs in little frames. The top one represented 
 a boy of perhaps seventeen years of age, in a sailor's 
 suit, and having a curly head of hair, a fine open fore- 
 head, laughing eyes and a careless, joyous air. 
 
 Lilith smiled involuntarily into the laughing eyes, 
 and gazed delightedly on the joyous face. 
 
 Then she took up the second photograph, a double 
 picture representing a young man and young woman, 
 standing with their hands clasped. The young man 
 wore a dark dress coat and pantaloons and a white 
 vest. The young woman wore a white dress and a 
 spray of white flowers in her black hair. 
 
 "This," said Lilith, gazing fondly on the photograph, 
 "must be a picture of my dear father and mother, 
 taken on their wedding day! I must be the fac-siniile
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 89 
 
 of what mj dear little mother was on that day. Even 
 I can see the likeness I bear to her. But my father! 
 What a grand, grave, heroic face is his! It might be 
 the face of the young St. John when he followed the 
 Saviour to Mount Calvary! But I must have been 
 mistaken in the identity of that bright, laughing-eyed 
 boy. He never could have been my father, photo- 
 graphed at an earlier age, for his bright gypsy coun- 
 tenance never could have developed into this noble, 
 saintly expression. And there is not in the two faees 
 a single feature alike. There was no name on the 
 boy's picture; let me see if there is any on this." 
 
 She slipped the picture card from out of its frame 
 and read on its back, "Joseph and Elizabeth Wyvil." 
 
 "I was right. These are my parents, of course. The 
 other I do not know who the other could have been; 
 some relation, I suppose, though he is not the least 
 like either father or mother, but as different from both 
 as it is possible for one human creature to be from 
 another. 
 
 Lilith pressed the double picture to her heart and to 
 her lips, and gazed at it long and fixedly, but not 
 smilingly as into the smiling eyes of the boy's pho- 
 tograph. 
 
 Finally she returned both pictures to their box. 
 
 "My parents may have been poor, hard-working 
 people, but they were pious, refined and intellectual. 
 They certainly were! So much I have discovered so 
 far! Now let me see what their letters will teach me 
 of their inner yes, and of their outer life! And 
 whether they will tell me anything about this wild, 
 handsome, harum-scarum boy," said Lilith, as she took 
 the packets of old letters four packets in all from 
 the bottom of the trunk. 
 
 These she placed upon a little stand, near her rock- 
 ing-chair. 
 
 Then she carefully returned all the contents of the
 
 90 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 trunk, arranging them in the order in which they had 
 first been packed, shut and locked it, and dragged it 
 away to the small adjoining room that opened from 
 her chamber into the back of the hall, as the dressing- 
 closet opened from Major Hereward's chamber into 
 the front of the hall. 
 
 She closed the door, seated herself in the rocking- 
 chair before the fire, and took up the packets of 
 letters, one after another, to examine them. The cor- 
 respondence seemed to cover a period of four years. 
 Each packet was marked with the date of one year. 
 She took up the first, untied it and scattered half a 
 dozen letters over the table. 
 
 All these letters were old, the paper yellow with 
 age, the ink faded with time. All bore foreign post- 
 marks, as Gibraltar, Spezzia, Constantinople, Calcutta, 
 Halifax, Baltimore, Rio Janeiro, Valparaiso. 
 
 They were all addressed to Mr. Joseph Wyvil, Rock- 
 ton, Yorkshire, England. 
 
 Lilith looked at the greeting, and turned to the sig- 
 nature before reading the body of the letters. All be- 
 gan "Dear Coz," and ended "Your loving Jo." 
 
 Evidently these letters were all written by that 
 jolly, rollicking sailor-boy, while on his long cruises, 
 to his cousin, Joseph Wyvil. In reading the letters, 
 Lilith came upon several descriptions of "larks" and 
 "scrapes," into which the wild lad had been tempted 
 and had fallen. None of them were vicious or crim- 
 inal; many of them were practical jokes, all mis- 
 chievous, some dangerous. How Lilith's heart weut 
 out to that wild sailor-boy, in spite of all his mad-cap 
 pranks! 
 
 His letters were not long, never covering more than 
 one sheet of note-paper, and there were no more than 
 six in the first packet. 
 
 Lilith soon got through with them all, tied them up 
 neatly, and then opened the second parcel. This, also,
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 91 
 
 contained but six letters written two years later, from 
 another quarter of the globe, by the same "Jo," to the 
 same Joseph Wyvil, and describing even madder 
 "larks" and graver "scrapes" than ever before, and 
 petitioning more earnestly that "Lil should not be 
 told." 
 
 These, in like manner, Lilith read with interest, and, 
 after reading, tied up with care. 
 
 She took up the third packet, which contained but 
 four letters, written by "Jo": one to Mr. Joseph Wyvil 
 and three to Mrs. Elizabeth Wyvil evidently the 
 "Lil" of the preceding years. But these letters were 
 not from foreign ports. They were all post-marked on 
 the outside, Carlisle, Cumberland, and dated on the 
 inside from 
 
 WHAT WAS THAT? 
 
 Lilith's glance was arrested by a single word a 
 word fraught with sin and sorrow. She gazed with 
 dilated eyes and parted lips until every vestige of 
 color died out from her face, leaving it with the 
 ghastly pallor of death. 
 
 Sick and trembling with shame and fear, she began 
 to read that fatal letter, and as she read, every 
 thought and feeling were submerged in an overwhelm- 
 ing flood of horror and despair! She yielded to the 
 deadly fascination of reading the three remaining 
 letters, only to suffer the tortures of a lost soul as 
 she learned the secret history of a sin, an expiation, 
 a devotion and self-martyrdom forming a tragedy sel- 
 dom equaled in terror, pathos arid anguish! In a col- 
 lapse of agony she threw her arms over the top of the 
 little table, dropped her head upon it and groaned 
 aloud. She could not shed a tear. But she lay bowed 
 down and groaning, and sometimes wailing forth a 
 word or a broken sentence that seemed to burst from 
 her overcharged heart. 
 
 "Oh, merciful Father, if it be possible, take me from
 
 92 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 this world now and here! Oh, I cannot bear it! lean- 
 not bear it ! The daughter of a of a oh, I cannot 
 cannot speak the shameful word! 
 
 "Major Hereward could never have known! No, he 
 could never have known! Or he would never have 
 allowed his son to marry me! Ah, why did he not look 
 over those letters those fatal letters? Then he would 
 have known. Then he would not have wished to unile 
 his son to such a deep dishonor as mine! 
 
 "Or, why had not my poor mother had the use of her 
 speech in that dying hour, when she gave me into 
 Major Bereward's charge, that she might have told 
 him the truth? Oh, if I could go hence and be no 
 more! Oh, what a future to face, if I must live! 
 
 "I ought to tell my husband! I ought not to keep 
 anything from him! But how can I tell him? How 
 can I expose my own grievous humiliation, and over- 
 whelm him also with grief and mortification? 
 
 "Oh, if I knew what to do! If there were any of 
 whom I could seek counsel! But I have no one! Not 
 a friend in the world to whom I dare to tell this tale!" 
 
 Her head sank upon her breast. Then there flowed 
 in upon her suffering spirit the memory of words that 
 come like oil upon troubled waters "Come unto Me." 
 
 She raised her face, with a new light upon it. 
 
 "Not a friend in the world! No, but above! 
 Above is the Friend of sinners! The Friend of suffer- 
 ers as well! I will go to Him." 
 
 She sank down upon the floor, and with her head 
 dropped on the seat of her chair, she bow r ed her spirit 
 before Him who bids us to come and lay our burdens 
 at His feet. 
 
 An hour later there came a knock at the chamber 
 door. Nancy stood there with her arms full of hickory 
 logs. 
 
 "I come to ax yer. Miss Lilith, ef yer didn't want 
 some wood put on de fire. It's moughty cole, an'
 
 93 
 
 snowin* an' blowin' wuss dan ebber. 'Deed, I reckon 
 how all de roads'll be blocked 'fo' night, I do so. Hi, 
 chile, wot yer let yer fire get so low fer? 'Deed, I 
 calls it flyin' in de face. W'y didn' yer call me?" in- 
 quired the woman, as she went to the chimney-place 
 and piled the logs on the smouldering brands. 
 
 When she had succeeded in raising a bright flame, 
 she turned and looked at her mistress for the first time 
 since entering the room. She was startled at the ap- 
 pearance of the young lady. 
 
 "Hi, Miss Lilith, wot de matter wid yer?" she de- 
 manded, in alarm. 
 
 "I am not well, Nancy." 
 
 "I can see dat much myse'f. You'se as pale as a 
 ghose. An' tremblin' all ober like yer had an ager. 
 An', I 'clare, yer fingers feels like frozen icicles," said 
 the woman, unceremoniously taking her mistress' 
 hand. 
 
 "Never mind. I shall be warmer presently, Nancy," 
 said Lilith, as she sank again into her chair. 
 
 "I dunno 'bout dat. 'Taint on'y as yer cold;*yer's 
 sick all ober. I can see. Tell yer wot, Miss Lilith, yer 
 gone and done two very imprudent fings. Las' night 
 yer went t'rough all dat drefful cole win' six miles 
 away to de tepot long ob young marse. An 's ef dat 
 warn't nuff to kill yer, now yer mus' go an' rum- 
 midge ober a ole trunk wot has been shet up for six- 
 teen or sebenteen year. Now 'fess de trufe, Miss 
 Lilith, warn't dat wot made yer sick?" 
 
 "The trunk had something to do with it. But never 
 mind me, Nancy." 
 
 "Dar, I knowed it!" exclaimed the woman, ignoring 
 the last clause in the young lady's reply. "I knowed 
 it was de nasty fix air in dat ole trunk. I dunno wot 
 de ole marse ebber had it pack up fer. 'Deed, doan 
 I. I fink w'en people goes to glory, to be 'rayed in 
 white rainbows an' goolden harps, deir yethly close
 
 94 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 wot ain't no better 'an filt'y rags 'pared to de heb- 
 benly robes ought to be 'stributed to de po', an' not 
 be kep' for keepsakes, an' pack away in trunks to hoi' 
 fix air, to p'ison de fus one as opens it. 'Deed, I calls 
 it flyin' in de face ob de word. I do so. Now, honey, 
 dinner's mos' ready to go on de fable. I gwine down 
 to see it put on now." 
 
 "I do not want any dinner, thank you, Nancy." 
 
 "Not want any dinner? Well, I call dat flyin' wuss 
 flyin' dan t'oder. W'y, Miss Lilith, Aunt Cassy's 
 made some ob de bessest chickun broff as ebber yer 
 tasted." 
 
 "I really could not take any, Nancy." 
 
 "Umph! Humph! Dat nasty fix air in dat trunk! 1 
 knows how it is myse'f. W'y, honey, w'en I goes to 
 unpack de winter fings in de fall ob de year, de fix air 
 mos' knocks me down, an' gibs me a pain in my nose, 
 w'ich 'fo' night sure to turn to a sick headache. An' 
 dem on'y pack up fer fibe or six mont's. An' dis yere 
 ole trunk ob yern pack up fo' sixteen or sebenteen 
 years. An' yer to open it! I wish ole marse had 
 burnt all de trash up 'fo' he ebber lef it here." 
 
 "I almost wish so, too," burst involuntarily from the 
 lips of Lilith. 
 
 "Fac' yer do, honey. An' in de right of it, too. Now 
 look yere, chile, yer got to take somefin'. Yer mus'n' 
 go 'dout eatin'. It's flyin', yer know. Now I gwine 
 get yer a cup o 'tea an' a roun' ob toas'. Yer can eat 
 dat w'en yer can't eat nuffin else. Can't yer now?" 
 
 "Yes, Nancy," replied Lilith, speaking rather to 
 satisfy the woman than from any other motive. 
 
 As soon as Nancy had left the room Lilith gathered 
 up all the venomed letters and held them over the fire, 
 meaning to burn them ; but then, with that strange re- 
 luctance which some people feel to burn even the most 
 compromising and dangerous letters, she paused, hesi-
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 95 
 
 tated, and finally went and locked them in the 
 memorial trunk. 
 
 In a short time Nancy came in with a fragrant cup 
 of tea and a dainty round of toast, all served in fine 
 china, on a little silver waiter. 
 
 She set this on the little marble-topped stand and 
 coaxed Lilith to come and try to eat and drink. 
 
 And to satisfy her Lilith did so, Nancy watching 
 jealously lest she should not do full justice to the 
 repast. 
 
 "Feel better now, don't yer, young mist'ess?" said 
 the woman, as she lifted the waiter with the empty 
 china to take it away. 
 
 "Yes, thank you," replied Lilith. 
 
 "Ah! so much fer me makin' yer do it! Dunno wot 
 yer'd do 'dout me to look arter yer. Yer'd be allers 
 flyin'." 
 
 And with this valedictory Nancy left the room, tak- 
 ing the waiter with her. 
 
 Lilith paced slowly up and down the floor. She 
 could not be still. Even the room seemed too con- 
 fined for her. 
 
 She walked out into the hall and paced up and down 
 its whole length. The doors of the little dressing- 
 rooms at each end of the hall were open, and the front 
 and back windows uncurtained, so that, turn in which 
 direction she might, the whirling snow-storm met her 
 view. 
 
 But the hall was icy cold. These remote old country 
 houses may boast roaring wood fires in the open chim- 
 neys of the living-rooms during winter, but they have 
 no furnaces, no registers, and so their vacant apart- 
 ments and halls and passages are freezingly cold. 
 
 The icy air soon drove Lilith back to her chamber, 
 where she sat hovering over the fire and congratulat- 
 ing herself upon one circumstance that the snow- 
 f.torm, and its sure result of blockaded country roads,
 
 96 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 must prevent her well-meaning neighbors from coming 
 to pay those duty visits of sympathy which are so very 
 trying to grieved hearts. 
 
 "What a worthless life is mine! I ought to be doing 
 something now; and here I sit idle. But what can I 
 do? Something, certainly! I must try to find out 
 what. Something to be of service to somebody, and 
 to drive away the haunting thoughts of that dreadful 
 past!" 
 
 "Miss Lilith, honey, there's a ge'man in de parlor 
 wot axes to see yer, pertickalar." 
 
 It was again the voice of the colored attendant that 
 broke upon the self-communings of the young lady. 
 
 "A gentleman, Nancy?" inquired Lilith, looking up 
 with surprise. 
 
 "Yes, honey, a nice-lookin' ge'man as ebber I see!" 
 
 "In such a storm as this! What is his name, 
 Nancy?" 
 
 "Wot is his name ag'in? Le's see now, wot is it 
 ag'in? W r 'y, I dunno as he telled me, arter all! But 
 I reckon as it's here on dis bit ob ticket, honey," said 
 the woman, presenting a visiting card. 
 
 Lilith took it and read, "Mr. Alfred Ancillon." 
 
 " 'Ancillon?' I don't know that name! I think I 
 cannot see him, Nancy. Go and beg him to excuse me." 
 
 "Oh, Miss Lilith, honey! doan yer dis'p'int a wisiter 
 as come t'rough all dis drefful storm to see yer! Doan 
 do it, honey! It's flyin! 'Deed it is," said the woman. 
 
 Lilith also thought it would be almost too cruel to 
 repulse a visitor who had braved such desperate 
 weather to call at the house. Besides, he might be 
 collecting for some charitable object. So, on the 
 whole, she decided to see him. 
 
 "I will go down. Where have you left this gentle- 
 man, Nancy?" 
 
 "Inter de little parlor w'ere dere's a great big fire 
 a-burnin'. Did yer fink as I was gwine to denounce
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 97 
 
 him into de cole drawin'-roora to freeze to deaf w'ile he 
 was waitin' fer yer? No, indeed, dat would 'a' been 
 flyin'!" 
 
 "Go, Nancy, and tell the gentleman I will be down 
 in a few minutes." 
 
 The woman left the room to deliver the message. 
 
 Lilith smoothed her curly black hair, changed her 
 white flannel wrapper for a black bombazine dress 
 trimmed with crape, and went downstairs. 
 
 She opened the door of the little parlor, her own 
 usual sitting-room, and entered. 
 
 There was a gentleman dressed in black, standing 
 with his back towards the door, looking through the 
 opposite window upon the whirling snow-storm with- 
 out. Lilith saw at a glance that he was of medium 
 height, slender figure and graceful carriage, with a 
 jine head of curling black hair. 
 
 As she crossed the room he turned to meet her, and 
 she stood confronted with THE ORIGINAL OF THE 
 SAILOR BOY'S PHOTOGRAPH! 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 A FAMILY CRANK 
 
 To explain the sudden advent of a stranger at Cloud- 
 Capped Cliffs we must go back a day or two in time 
 and mile or two in space. That is to say, we must go 
 to the day after Major Hereward's funeral and to the 
 manor-house known as Eushmore Lodge. 
 
 This Rushmore Lodge was a fine old place that had 
 been for centuries in the possession of the Hilaries. 
 
 The last possessor had been a Mr. Rufus Hilary, 
 who, having been crossed in love, forswore women and 
 lived a bachelor until the age of ninety-seven, when 
 ( he died, leaving the whole of his estate to his nephew
 
 98 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 and namesake, young Rufus Hilary, the sole son of 
 Lis only brother. 
 
 The latter had married late in life a young widow 
 with several children, both boys and girls, and had 
 died at an advanced age, leaving but the one son. 
 
 Rufus Hilary's mother was a woman with a strange 
 proclivity for capturing and converting wealthy and 
 confirmed old bachelors. This was her specialty, and 
 as much so as it is the sparrow-hawk's to strike down 
 the sparrow. 
 
 Her first husband, the father of all those boys and 
 girls, had been a rich old bachelor, the senior partner 
 in the great firm of Miles & Miles, Exporters of 
 Tobacco, Baltimore. 
 
 Her second husband, the father of Rufus Hilary, 
 had been another old bachelor. 
 
 And her present husband had been another and a 
 more incorrigible old bachelor than all the others a 
 "slovenly, unhandsome" old bachelor, with bad man- 
 ners, and a worse temper, who snarled at heaven and 
 earth in general, and railed at women in particular as 
 a most grievous, aggravating and deplorable after- 
 thought of the Creator. 
 
 This amiable and attractive person was generally 
 known in the neighborhood as "Old Jab," and his 
 name was synonymous with everything that was 
 weird, fearful and repulsive. 
 
 But, he was also known as Mr. Jabez Jordon, of 
 Broad Manors, the wealthiest landed proprietor in the 
 neighborhood, without a near relative in the world 
 to inherit his estate, and the most intimate friend and 
 dearest chum of the other old bachelor, Hilary, of 
 Rushmore. And to hear those two aged sinners chant 
 their daily duet in abuse of women and matrimony 
 would have made the hair of a boy in love stand on 
 end. 
 
 Old Mr. Hilary, as has been seen, lived and died in
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 99 
 
 the faith, or rather in the want of faith. And Old Jab 
 was one of his pall-bearers. 
 
 It was at the funeral that Mrs. Hilary, a handsome 
 matron of forty-eight, first met Mr. Jabez Jordon, of 
 Broad Manors. 
 
 Now Mrs. Hilary had a large income from the inter- 
 est on invested funds, but she had no capital, and no 
 landed property. 
 
 Jordon, of Broad Manors, had both. He was as 
 ugly as a Gorgon, and as ill-natured as a hyena. But 
 what of that? The handsome bachelor-slayer marked 
 him for her own, brought him down, and bagged him 
 as easily as she had taken his predecessors. 
 
 All the neighbors wondered how on earth she had 
 done it. No one knew but herself. She knew how she 
 had done it, but she never told anybody. 
 
 She knew, also, how she had tamed her "horrid old 
 hyena," made him keep clean, dress neatly, behave de- 
 cently, and control his temper, so that whatever furies 
 he got into abroad, or however bad language he might 
 use to other people, he did not dare to show his teeth 
 at home, or to utter one growl to his wife or her chil- 
 dren. 
 
 Every one of the neighbors wondered at this change, 
 and summed up their opinion in some such phrase as 
 this: 
 
 "She's one of 'em. He don't dare to raise a fuss 
 with her. Ah, he knows too well which side his bread 
 is buttered on for that." 
 
 Immediately after this marriage young Rufus 
 Hilary came of age, and entered into possession of his 
 inheritance. 
 
 He had just left the University of Virginia, at Char- 
 lottesville, from which he had not graduated with 
 honors, having been far more addicted to play than to 
 .work. 
 
 In taking possession of Rushmore he had deter-
 
 100 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 rained to devote himself to amusement rather than to 
 useful employment, and to get all the play out of 
 every day that it was possible to obtain. 
 
 He found it lonesome at Rushmore, and so he 
 begged his "gay and happy" mamma to bring her 
 daughters (her other sons were in business in Rich- 
 mond), and come and stay with him until he should 
 "get used to. the old castle," as he put it. 
 
 Mr. Jordon made not the slightest objection to his 
 wife's leaving Broad Manors on this long visit to her 
 son; nor, indeed, would it have been of the least con- 
 sequence if he had. She would have gone just as 
 soon. 
 
 So Mrs. Jerdon and her two daughters went to 
 Rushmore. And Old Jab had a jjood long interval of 
 perfect free-agency, during which he enjoyed himself 
 excessively in once more being as ugly and slovenly as 
 he pleased, and in raging and storming up and down 
 the house, swearing at the servants, kicking the cats 
 and dogs, and putting all and sundry in mortal terror 
 of their lives as he had been accustomed to do in his 
 free and happy bachelor days. 
 
 Mrs. Jordon and her two daughters, Harriet and 
 Emily Miles, the former a handsome brunette of 
 twenty-five years, and the fac-simile of her mother, 
 and the latter a plump and pretty blonde of twenty- 
 four, settled themselves at Rushmore for an indefinite 
 time. They came just before Christmas, and had been 
 there two weeks. 
 
 Old Jab had condescended to come and eat his 
 Christmas dinner, and a week later his New Year's 
 dinner, at Rushmore; but that was all. 
 
 He went away the day after New Year's, begging 
 his wife to stay and enjoy herself as long as she could, 
 and not by any means to shorten her visit; and he 
 went home to make the lives of his household a bur-
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 101 
 
 den to them like the hypocritical old catamount that 
 he was. 
 
 After he was gone Rufus took his mother and sisters 
 to the theatrical combination of tragedy and farce, by 
 the Grand Plantagenet and Montmorencie Troupe, to 
 which he had vainly tried to persuade Lilith to ac- 
 company him. 
 
 The success of the performance was so great that 
 this world-renowned troupe for whose coming the 
 royalty, nobility and gentry of the world were wait- 
 ing with the sickness of hope deferred condescended 
 to shine on benighted Frosthill for a whole week. 
 
 Young Rufus Hilary went every night. But his 
 mother and sisters refrained on account of their neigh- 
 bor, Major Hereward, who lay dead at Cloud Caps. 
 
 It was the morning after the funeral the morning 
 of the same day on which at evening .Mr. Hereward 
 had started on his return to Washington that Rufus, 
 at the breakfast table at Rushmore, suddenly an- 
 nounced: 
 
 "Mother, the Grand Plantagenet and Montmorencie 
 Combination are going away by the midnight train to- 
 night; so I have invited Mr. Ancillon to come home 
 with me and stay all night and spend Sunday. Then 
 he can travel Sunday night and overtake the troupe at 
 Darkville, where they are to perform on Monday." 
 
 "What on earth are you talking of, Rufus? Who is 
 it that you have invited here?" 
 
 "Mr. Alfred Ancillon, the leading gentleman in the 
 Grand Plantagenet and Montmorencie Combination, 
 you know! Mr. Alfred Ancillon, the illustrious tenor, 
 the eminent tragedian and the celebrated comedian!" 
 
 "The strolling player, do you mean?" 
 
 "Oh, mother, how can you! He is the most wonder- 
 ful genius in the world! And I nave invited him to 
 come home with me after the performaace and take 
 supper and stay over Sunday with us."
 
 102 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Rufus, I have heard of your eccentric doings in 
 bringing to the house all sorts of clowns and harle- 
 quins and acrobats. And this was strange enough 
 even when you were keeping bachelor's hall here 
 alone; but now that I and the girls are here really, 
 really, Rufus, I cannot put up with such doings!" 
 
 "But, mother, he is a gentleman! And such a world- 
 wide celebrity that crowned heads are honored by his 
 visits!" 
 
 "Oh, hush, Rufus, hush! You talk like a lunatic! 
 He is nothing but a strolling player! To be sure, he 
 acted Robin Roughhead in the farce very well, I 
 thought. Kept me laughing all the time." 
 
 "I thought he sang divinely in Figaro," said Harriet 
 Miles. 
 
 "And, oh, how thrillingly he played Richard! He 
 really made my blood curdle in the tent scene!" added 
 Emily. 
 
 "Why, of course he did! There is not his match for 
 comedy, tragedy or opera in this world! And mammy, 
 darling, I have asked him, and he has accepted, so he 
 must come. I couldn't get out of it even if I wanted 
 to, which I don't." 
 
 "Well, Rufus, the house is yours, and you must ask 
 whom you please; but I beg that you will consult me 
 while we stay here, before asking any other queer 
 people to meet us." 
 
 "Yes, mother, I will. I do promise you I will, if you 
 will only for this once be polite to Ancillon." 
 
 "I should be polite to any of your guests, Rufus, 
 
 'Howe'er unworthy of the name,' 
 
 as the great Sir Walter writes." 
 
 "Would you and the girls like to go to the per- 
 formance to-night, mother?"
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 103 
 
 'No, the weather is too awful! Yve should all get 
 the pleurisy and die!" 
 
 ""All right; then I must go alone." 
 
 And so it was settled. Kufus went to Frosthill, 
 which was only about a mile distant from Rushmore. 
 
 Mrs. Jordon gave orders for a sumptuous supper to- 
 be ready at eleven o'clock. 
 
 The two young ladies, full of eager curiosity to meet 
 a celebrated actor off the stage, began to study careful 
 toilets, so as to do honor to a distinguished guest. At 
 a quarter before eleven the three ladies were seated in 
 the drawing-room, waiting in state for the visitor, 
 when the carriage rolled up to the door, and Rufus and 
 his guest alighted, the former talking volubly. He 
 led the new-comer noisily through the passage and 
 up the stairs to his own room, calling on the servants 
 to follow and wait on them. A little later Rufus came 
 down again, accompanied by his new friend, whom he 
 ushered with much ceremony into the drawing-room, 
 where he. presented him to his mother as the world- 
 renowned dramatic artist, Mr. Alfred Ancillon. 
 
 "A poor phayer, madame, and no more, as you must 
 know, if you have honored our humble efforts with 
 your presence," said Mr. Ancillon, with a deprecating 
 bow. 
 
 "I was very much pleased with your rendition of 
 Robin Roughhead," replied Mrs. Jordon, whom the 
 grace and beauty of the actor had already won. 
 
 "Thank you, madame." 
 
 "He is a gentleman. He does not say a short, im- 
 pertinent, 'Thanks,' " thought the lady to herself. 
 
 Mrs. Jordon then introduced him to her daughters, 
 who received him as some great personage, with flat- 
 tering deference and timidity. Supper was soon an- 
 nounced, and the stranger, with an air of easy good 
 breeding, bowed and gave Ms arm to Mrs. Jordon. 
 
 At supper the conversation, led by the lively Rufus,
 
 104. THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 never flagged for a single moment, but rang the 
 changes on music, the drama, dramatic authors and 
 actors, until at length Rufus burst out with: 
 
 "Oh, mother, I was so sorry that dear, pretty Lilith 
 could not see Mr. Ancillon in any of his great parts!" 
 
 "Lilith! I beg pardon! Whom did you say?" in- 
 quired the guest. 
 
 "Lilith Wyvil, a lovely girl! a neighbor of ours! 
 Why, did you know her? You look so strange!" 
 blurted out impulsive Rufus. 
 
 "No, of course not! But the name is so very 
 unique," said Mr. Ancillon, instantly recovering him- 
 self. 
 
 "Yes, it is; and the story is stranger than the name," 
 added Mrs. Jordon. 
 
 "A romance in real life, perhaps, madame," said the 
 guest, in a very politely suggestive tone. 
 
 "Oh, yes, indeed; quite so. When we return to the 
 drawing-room I will tell it to you if you would like to 
 hear it. Some of your dramatic authors might make 
 a play of it." 
 
 "I should feel greatly indebted to you, madame," re- 
 plied the guest, bending his graceful head. 
 
 A little later, when they all arose from the table, 
 Mr. Ancillon gave his arm to the elder lady and led 
 her on in advance. Rufus followed. 
 
 In the drawing-room Mrs. Jordon sat beside Mr. 
 Ancillon on the corner sofa, pouring into his listening 
 ear the whole history of Lilith Wyvil's parentage, 
 birth, orphanage, adoption by Major Hereward, as she 
 had heard it through the gossip of the servants. She 
 concluded by describing the death-bed marriage. 
 
 Here Rufus chimed in with: 
 
 "Yes; and he has gone off to Washington by the 
 train to-night and left her alone at Cloud Caps." 
 
 "How do you know that, my dear?" inquired his 
 mother.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 105 
 
 "I saw him take the train when I was on my way to 
 the theatre. I would not have left her so soon if I had 
 been the happy man of her choice," said Rufus, rue- 
 fully. 
 
 The clock struck one. 
 
 "Come, my dear," said Mrs. Jordon, rising. "Our 
 guest is tired, no doubt, and we will say good-night." 
 
 "Come, Ancillon! I will be your groom of the cham- 
 bers and show you to your room," said Rufus, start- 
 ing up. 
 
 The guest also arose, bowed gracefully as he bade 
 good-night to the ladies, and then followed his leader 
 from the room. 
 
 When left alone with his own reflections, Ancillon 
 did not at once retire. Finally, as he threw off his 
 clothes and flung himself on the bed, he muttered: 
 
 "I do not think I shall follow the Grand Plantagenet 
 and Montmorencie Combination Troupe any farther on 
 this route!" 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE MYSTERY 
 
 LILITH remained for hours shut up alone with her 
 mysterious visitor in the little parlor. 
 
 The stormy afternoon darkened towards evening; 
 yet no sound came from the closed room. 
 
 Meanwhile, the idle negro women, gathered around 
 the great kitchen fire, made their comments. 
 
 "Mos' pitch dark, an' she ain't rung for lights yet," 
 said Cassy, the cook, as she took the kitchen lamp 
 from the mantelpiece, lighted it, and set it on the side 
 table. 
 
 "Well, wot ob it? Yer know Miss Lilif allers did 
 like to sit by de firelight, 'fo' de lamps wer' lit," said 
 Nancy.
 
 106 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Yes; but not w'en dere was comp'ny. Allers had 
 de light rung fur, sooner'n ebber den!" 
 
 "I reckon she'll ring present'y. Ef she don't I gwine 
 to knock at de do', an' ax her doan she want de lamps 
 fotch in. 'Deed is I!" 
 
 "Now, doan yer be so fresh, A'n' Nancy!" exclaimed 
 little Cely, the housemaid. 
 
 "Wot yer mean, gal?" 
 
 "Didn' yer say as how Miss Lilif lubbed to sit in de 
 dark firelight?" 
 
 "Yes, I did; but" 
 
 "Mebby de young ge'man lub to sit in de dark fire- 
 light, too!" 
 
 Before the girl had well finished the sentence, a re- 
 sounding box on the ear, from Nancy's strong palm, 
 sent her tumbling off her stool on to the floor. 
 
 "Now den, yer sassy black nigger! Take dat! 'Ow 
 dar' yer 'spatiate yer 'pertinent jokes 'bout yer young 
 mist'ess and her wisiter? Miss Lilif ain't no young 
 damson to be joked about sweethearts! Miss Lilif is 
 a dig'ified married lady!" 
 
 "I didn' mean no jokes at all! An' yer've mos' broke 
 my jaw-bone, yer have!" howled Cely, as she stumbled 
 up from the floor and seated herself upon the stool 
 again, holding her smarting cheek. "I on'y fought 
 mebby more people 'side Miss Lilif like to sit in de 
 dark firelight! I do, I know! an' I wasn' finkin' nuffin' 
 'bout no sweethearts! An' I'd 'a' said de same ef as 
 how it had been a old 'oman 'long ob Miss Lilif 'stead 
 ob a young ge'man! An' yer've guv me de jaw-ache, 
 so yer have, A'n' Nancy!" 
 
 "Sarve yer right! Doan be so 'pertinent anoder 
 time, den!" answered the unrelenting Nancy. 
 
 "Look yere! It's gwine on to seven o'clock. I gwine 
 get supper. 'Deed is I. I won'er ef dat young ge'man 
 gwine to stop to supper, 'caze ef he is, we'll hab to 
 'pare sumfin' extry," said the cook.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 107 
 
 "Nebber yer mine, A'n' Gassy! Yer jes' frisky dat 
 cole chicken an' toss up an omely, an' wid de cakes an' 
 'serves we's got on ban', dey'll make good 'nough 
 supper for any wisiter, ef he do stay, an' ef he don't, 
 yer know nuffin' need to be los'! We dem can eat all 
 dat conies fom de table," said Nancy. 
 
 "Won'er who de worl' he is, anyhow? Doan yer 
 know, Nancy?" 
 
 "No, A'n' Cassy, I don't! I reckon he's a stranger 
 hereabouts. Moughty 'andsome young fellow, dough! 
 'Deed is he. Eyes as black as coals an' as bright as 
 di'mon's, wid sich long curly lashes, makes one fink 
 about de sparklin' water of dat spring in de hill, wid 
 de high grass shadin' it, a-flashin' up in de sunshine! 
 An' sich long curly black hair, chillun, almost like a 
 purty young gal's. Oh, I tell yer he's han'some." 
 
 "An' yer dunno who he is?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Nor likewise 'spects?" 
 
 "No, I tell yer." 
 
 "He nebber gib his name?" 
 
 "No. He axed ef Mrs. Tudor Here ward was home. 
 Which I telled him, in coorse my mist'ess was home, 
 as she was like to be on sich a stormy day as dis. An' 
 den he gib me a little w'ite ticket wid his name on it. 
 An' I took it up an' 'suaded my young mist'ess to go 
 down an' see him, 'caze I fought it was a pity not to 
 see a wisiter who had come t'rough sich wedder as 
 dis to wisit. An' he so han'some, too! But all de 
 same, I wish to goodness gracious I hadn't 'suaded 
 her, dat's all. 'Deed, I's gettin' right down oneasy in 
 my mine, I is so." 
 
 "I doan won'er. It's a g'eat 'sponsability as yer've 
 took on yerse'f, Nancy! an' de master not home neider. 
 S'pose he's a highway bu'glar come to cut off all our 
 heads an' burn down de house? 'Deed, I's gettin'
 
 108 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 powerful scared. I wish Steve an' Alick would come 
 home. Were is dem boys, anyhow?" 
 
 "W'y, A'n' Cassy, doan yer know as Steve went to 
 de pos'-office an' ain't got back yet?" put in Mandy, the 
 parlor-maid. 
 
 "No! an' I don't s'pose as he will get back t'rough all 
 dis snow to-night. It would be a rist to 'tempt it. 
 But w'ere is Alick?" 
 
 "Uncle Alick is in de stable, long o' one ob de car- 
 ridge horses wot is berry bad." 
 
 "Blame dem boys! dey's allers out'n de way w'en 
 wanted, an' in de way w'en not. 'Deed, Nancy, I wish 
 yer hadn't let dat strange man inter de house." 
 
 "Now, A'n' Cassy, doan make me feel no wuss 'bout 
 it 'an I do. You better get supper. Mandy, yer go 
 inter de dinin'-room an' set de table. Cely, you come 
 upstairs long o' me to put some wood on Miss Lilif's 
 bedroom fire. I doan like to go upstairs arter dark 
 by myse'f ebber since ole marse went to glory." 
 
 "Yer ain't afeard of ghoses,is yer, Nancy? leastways 
 ob ole Marse Major's ghose; 'caze ef he's gone to 
 glory, he ain't a-comin' down to dis dark, stormy worP 
 to-night." 
 
 "No, A'n' Cassy, I ain't 'feared ob seein' ghoses; I's 
 feared o' bein' scared, dat's all. Come 'long, Cely. 
 Le's get de wood fuss, dough." 
 
 Both women went through a back door leading from 
 the kitchen to a sheltered wood-house, whence they 
 soon emerged with their arms full of hickory and 
 cedar logs which they proceeded to lug upstairs to 
 the young mistress' bedroom. 
 
 "It's a-gwine to be a awfuller night dan it was las' 
 night. On'y jes' hear dat win'. Yer go shet de windy 
 shetters an' draw de curtaius w'ile I puts de wood on 
 de fire. 'Deed, I wish dat man'd g'lang 'way. I do 
 so!" said Nancy. 
 
 Cely, busy with the window curtains, did not answer.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 109 
 
 "Dongh ef he do start out in dis storm to-night, ten 
 to one he'll perish in de snow 'fo' mornin'. W'y doan 
 yer answer me, gal?" inquired Nancy, standing up on 
 the rug, and taking a long breath after her labor of 
 piling the heavy logs on the fire. "W'y doan yer 
 speak? Wot yer stan'in' dere mumchance fer?" 
 
 " 'Gaze my jaw aches! Yer's jarred ebery toof in my 
 head, yer has! An' I doan want to be knocked heels 
 ober head ag'in, jes 'caze I open my mouf! I gwine 
 keep my mouf shet w'en yer's about," grumbled the 
 girl, who, having finished closing the windows, stood 
 idly by the door. 
 
 "Po* gal! Ef yer can't stan' yer own dear A'n' 
 Nancy yer own dear mammy wot's gone to glory's 
 own dear sister chastisin' yer, gentle an' lubbin', an' 
 all for yer own good, yer better not marry Ole Jab 
 Jordon's Seth, 'caze he's jes' like his ole marster! He'd 
 knock yer 'bout till yer wouldn't hab a whole bone in 
 yer body! Yer hear me, doan yer?" 
 
 Whether Cely heard or not, she did not choose to 
 answer. Apparently she meant to keep her word, and 
 hold her tongue. 
 
 "Dere! Dere's de young mist'ess* ring at last," 
 exclaimed the woman, as the silver peal of Lilith's 
 hand-bell sounded through the silent house. "I 
 reckon she wants lights now. Run down an' light de 
 lamps, Cely, w'ile J goes to answer de bell." 
 
 Cely flew down the stairs and into the kitchen on 
 1 her errand, while Nancy, following slowly, reached 
 the door of the little parlor and opened it. On one 
 side of the fireplace, with his elbow on the mantel- 
 piece, his handsome head leaning upon his hand, his 
 black locks partly falling over both, and his dark eyes 
 fixed on the floor, stood the young stranger. By the 
 table, with her head bowed upon her bosom, her hands 
 hanging down and clasped before her, stood Lilith, 
 like a statue of despair.
 
 110 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 " Yer rung de bell, Miss Lilif," said Nancy, by way of 
 attracting the attention of the young lady, who seemed 
 absorbed in her own thoughts. 
 
 "Yes," replied the latter, with an effort that 
 sounded like a deep sigh; "yes. This gentleman re- 
 mains here to-night. Have a fire kindled in Major 
 Hereward's room, and prepare it for his occupation. 
 Have supper on the table as soon as practicable." 
 
 "Very well, ma'am," replied the housekeeper, turn- 
 ing to leave the room, and meeting Cely at the door, 
 with a lighted lamp in each hand. 
 
 She took them from the girl, placed one at each end 
 of the mantelpiece, and finally withdrew, followed by 
 Cely. 
 
 "Well, I beliebe as we is commanded in de Word to 
 entertain strangers. I beliebe we is. But dis yere 
 stranger I I has my doubts 'bout entertainin' ob 
 him. An' de marster ob de house 'way, too. Dough, 
 to be sure, it would nebber do to turn a dog out'n 
 de house on sich a night as dis. An' he so handsome, 
 too. But I doan like his stayin' here, 'deed I doan. 
 An' people so ebil-minded. An' Miss Lilif so simple 
 an' innocen'. 'Deed, I mus' try to 'vent de talk. 'Deed, 
 I mus' dat," concluded Nancy, as she went into the 
 kitchen to give orders. 
 
 And there, with the very best intentions that she 
 could have had, she did the very worst thing that she 
 could have done. 
 
 "Look yere, chillun," she said, addressing all the 
 negroes in the kitchen, whose number was now in- 
 creased by the presence of Stephen and Alick, who 
 had come in during her absence. "Look yere. Dat 
 strange ge'man is gwine to stay all night. 'Twon't do 
 fer Christian people to let him go out sich a night 
 as dis, eben ef he is a stranger, 'special' w'en de Word 
 'mands us all to entertain strangers. Leastways, I 
 finks it does. But all de same yer mus'n', none ob yer,
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 111 
 
 go blabbin' to de neighbors 'bout dis young youth stay- 
 in' in de house, an' de marster not here, 'caze dey 
 might fink ebil, an' talk ebil, too. An' yer wouldn' 
 hab dat done to de ole fam'ly ob de Herewards, would 
 yer?" 
 
 "No, A'n' Nancy. But wot is it? Wot yer mean?" 
 inquired Stephen. 
 
 And all the other colored people looked the per- 
 plexity that they did not express. 
 
 "I means dis, doan yer see? I means as not one ob 
 yer mus' so much as breave a w'isper outside ob dis 
 house 'bout dis young youth bein' here to-night. Do 
 yer hear me good?" 
 
 "Yes, A'n' Nancy. But w'y?" persisted Stephen. 
 
 " 'Gaze ob ebil f oughts an' ebil tongues. Dat's 
 w'y." 
 
 "But wot fer?" 
 
 "Nebber yer mine wot fer, Steve. Yer all mus' take 
 yer Bible oaf not to tell." 
 
 And so Nancy put every one of her fellow-servants 
 on their honor not to mention to any living creature 
 the fact of this stranger's presence in the house, thus 
 filling their minds with all sorts of speculations. 
 
 "An' now, Steve, yer go right off an' kindle a fire in 
 Marse Major's room. An', Mandy, fetch de big waiter 
 to take in de supper." 
 
 Ten minutes later the bell rang. 
 
 "Will you come in to supper now?" inquired Lilith, 
 in a low tone. 
 
 Without answering in words he left his place by the 
 mantelpiece, bow r ed, and offered her his arm; all with 
 a courtly grace the girl had never seen equaled. 
 
 She took his arm and walked with him to the hall, 
 where Alick had just lighted the old-fashioned stained- 
 glass hanging lamp, and down to the dining-room, 
 which was in the rear of the little parlor. 
 
 There a great fire had been kindled, and an elegant
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 little supper-table had been arranged for two. Alick, 
 who was waiting, drew back the chair at the head of 
 the table and the stranger led the young lady to her 
 place, and then took his seat opposite to her at the 
 foot of the table. 
 
 "You may leave the room, Alick. If we need you I 
 will ring," said the young mistress, when the footman 
 had finished serving the dishes, and stood waiting be- 
 hind hia mistress' chair, and staring at the stranger 
 seated opposite. The man obeyed rather slowly and 
 reluctantly, and going outside, softly closed the door 
 behind him, and then, kneeling cautiously down on 
 the floor, placed his eye to the key-hole, and thus saw 
 the graceful head and shoulders of the young stranger, 
 who sat at the foot of the table nearest the door, with 
 his back to the watcher; and at the head of the table, 
 opposite to him, with her back to the fire, and with her 
 face toward the door, the young mistress, whose pale 
 face looked pallid in contrast to her black hair and 
 mourning dress. 
 
 As he gazed he saw her put up her hands to her 
 face, and shake as with a sudden chill. 
 
 Then he saw the young stranger lift his head as if 
 about to speak, and Alick quickly changed his eye for 
 his ear at the key-hole, and as the stranger guest sat so 
 near the door, he could hear all he said. 
 
 And this is what he heard: 
 
 "Lilith, I have made you very miserable, my 
 darling." 
 
 "His darling! Kingdom ob Egypt! his darling! an* 
 he neider de husban' nor de brud'der ob she!" thought 
 Alick to himself, as his wool nearly uncurled itself 
 to stand on end. 
 
 He listened for the young lady's reply, but not hear- 
 ing it he shifted his ear for his eye, to see what she 
 was doing. 
 
 She still sat covering her face with her hands, and
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 113 
 
 trembling all over her black-robed form. He sat lean- 
 ing forward on the table, looking towards her, his al- 
 most girlish black curls flowing over his temples and 
 forehead. 
 
 Lilith dropped her hands from her pallid face and 
 met his look. Then the stranger began to speak, and 
 A lick quickly shifted eye for ear again that he might 
 listen. 
 
 "Lilith, dearest, do you not wish that I had never 
 found you?" inquired the stranger, in a yearning, pa- 
 thetic voice. "Do you not wish this, my Lilith?" 
 
 "His Lilif! Glory be to Moses?" thought the lis- 
 tener; and he listened eagerly for her reply. 
 
 "No, no, I do not wish it. I thank Heaven that you 
 have come. I thank Heaven," fervently replied the 
 young lady. 
 
 "She's all right, anyway, or she wouldn't talk 'bout 
 t'ankin' Hebben!" thought the listener; and he lis- 
 tened more eagerly than ever. 
 
 "And yet I have brought you only sorrow, misery 
 and embarrassment, my sweet my sweetest child," 
 said the stranger, in his pathetic voice. 
 
 "His sweet! Blamed be Judas Ask Harriet! Look 
 yere, dough, I's asleep, I is, an' has got de night-horse 
 or de staggeration ob de blood in de brain dat's wot's 
 de matter! Dis yere's a dream. Dreams is allers 
 feolish fings, an' dis yere is de foolishest I ebber had," 
 thought the perplexed negro to himself. But his 
 ruminations were cut short by the soft, clear voice of 
 his mistress. He bent his ear to listen more atten- 
 tively to her words. 
 
 "If I could only tell my husband I should feel less 
 unhappy. It is the keeping of a secret from him that 
 troubles my conscience." 
 
 "But I have told you why this must be kept from 
 him, as from all the world, Lilith. You would not be- 
 tray me?"
 
 114 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Oh! no, no! I would guard your secret with my 
 life! Nay, indeed, I am guarding it with more, much 
 more, than life!" wailed the girl. 
 
 "With your peace of mind, your hope of the future, 
 your sacred honor! I know it, Lilith! And you know 
 how absolutely necessary it is that my secret should 
 be so guarded." 
 
 "Yes, I know! I know! And I will be true to the 
 sacred trust." 
 
 "I am sure you will, Lilith, my most precious one; 
 my angel!" 
 
 "His angel! Bress de Witch ob Windy's broom- 
 stick! But dar! I know 1's asleep, so I won't fink 
 nuffin' more 'bout it. On'y I do hope as I will hear 
 wot dat secret is 'fo' I wakes up. 'Deed does I!" cogi- 
 tated the negro man, as he once more applied his eye 
 to the keyhole to view the interior. 
 
 Lilith had risen from her seat, and was advancing 
 towards the door. The stranger stood up, turned and 
 placed his hand on the knob. So sudden was the 
 action that Alick had to speed away to prevent detec- 
 tion; and he burst into the kitchen with such a ter- 
 rified air that the negroes started up. 
 
 Before they could ask an explanation the parlor bell 
 rang, and Alick, whose business it was to answer it 
 when in the house, started immediately to do so. 
 
 He found his young mistress and her visitor stand- 
 ing before the parlor fire. 
 
 "Alick, take a lamp and show this gentleman to his 
 room Major Hereward's room and place yourself at 
 his orders." 
 
 "Yes, ma'am. Your sarvint, sar!" respectfully an- 
 swered the man, touching his forehead by way of salu- 
 tation, and then taking one of the lamps from the 
 mantelpiece, and leading the way to the foot of the 
 stairs, followed by the stranger. 
 
 On showing the guest into that which was now the
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 115 
 
 best spare room, Alick became very communicative 
 and confidential, while the visitor on his part in- 
 quired: 
 
 "What is your name, then, my heroic friend?" 
 
 "Alick, sar." 
 
 "Oh, Alexander! Well, Alexander the Great, I 
 salute the hem of your majesty's garment, and I bid 
 you bon soir!" 
 
 "Bones sore, young marse! At yer young youfful 
 years, too! Uat mus' 'a' been traipsin' t'rough de 
 snow!" exclaimed the negro. 
 
 "Very likely," laughed the young man. 
 
 "Le' me get yer some goose-grease, young marse!" 
 
 "Goose-grease be melted! There's nothing the 
 matter with me. Good-night." 
 
 "Oh! I fought yer said as how yer'd cotch de rheu- 
 matics, 'long o' coming so far t'rough de snow. Yer 
 has come a long ways, hasn' yer, young marse ?" 
 
 "Yes. Good-night." 
 
 "Yer mus' fink a heap o' Miss Lilif." 
 
 "I do. You can go. Good-night." 
 
 "Maybe yer's some kin to Miss Lilif. I fink I do see 
 a likeness. I fink OH, LOR'!" 
 
 The stranger had started up, struck a stage attitude, 
 and, pointing to the negro, with all the fury of all the 
 ranters darkening on his frowning brow, flashing from 
 his stormy eyes and thundering in his resonant voice, 
 he bellowed forth at random : 
 
 "Be thou a goblin damned? 
 
 A vaunt and quit my sight! Let the earth hide theel 
 Vamose the ranch! Skedaddle! Vanish!" 
 
 The man stood glaring with open eyes and mouth 
 for one amazed moment, and then, with a 
 
 "Lor' 'a' messy 'pon me, a po' mis'ble sinner!" he 
 fled, stumbling out of the room and through the hall,
 
 116 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 and finally tumbled down the back stairs, nearly at 
 the risk of breaking his neck. 
 
 All the negroes in the kitchen rushed out of the door 
 to see what was the matter. 
 
 They found Alick picking himself up and praying: 
 
 "Oh, Lor', spare my libe dis time an' I'll nebber do 
 so no mo'!" 
 
 "Wot's de matter? Wot's de matter?" cried a cho- 
 rus of voices from the negro group. 
 
 "Dat young youf upsta'rs is a raving mad lunacy. 
 He's took awful! He called me a goblet crammed! 
 an' he cussed an' swore at me in in some furrin lan- 
 gidge! He's dange'us! 'Deed he's werry dange'us!'' 
 howled Alick. 
 
 A shower of questions elicited no further intelli- 
 gence, but only a repetition of the words. 
 
 "Whey's de young mist'ess? She ought to be tole," 
 said Gassy. 
 
 "Oh, she's gone to bed, an' A'n' Nancy wid her to 
 sleep in de trunk room," answered Cely. 
 
 "Den she mus'n' be 'sturbed, in coorse. But, tell yer 
 wot to do, chillun! Ef dat man's c'azy we better wait 
 an' see if he settles down an' goes to sleep, an' den 
 creep up in de dark an' lock him in," suggested Gassy. 
 
 "Yes! dat's de fing! An' de key is on de outside ob 
 de do' ebber sence old major went to glory," Alick 
 said. 
 
 After a little whispering consultation this plan was 
 adopted, and the negroes crept upstairs and lay in 
 wait in the hall near the door till all was still in the 
 house. Meamwhile the intended victim of this con- 
 spiracy, all unconscious of his impending captivity, 
 immediately on the ignominious flight of the negro 
 had thrown himself into his chair, fallen back and 
 given vent to an uproarious peal of laughter, which 
 was succeeded by another and another as if he could 
 not stop himself.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 117 
 
 And so the strange man, with a boyish elasticity of 
 spirits, sprang lightly to his feet, threw off his clothes 
 and flung himself into bed. As soon as his head 
 touched the pillow he dropped asleep with the careless 
 ease of boyhood. And he never even heard the click 
 of the lock that made him a prisoner for the night. 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 DANGER 
 
 EARLY in the morning it was discovered to be still 
 snowing and blowing. Outside the kitchen door was 
 found Old Isaac, the oldest negro on the plantation. 
 He stood there with a heavy gray blanket wrapped 
 all over his cloak and suit of clothes. 
 
 "W'y, Uncle Ike!" exclaimed Steve and Alick in a 
 breath, and they began, and in a duet of eager words 
 told him all they knew about the arrival of the 
 stranger and also of his suspected lunacy and of his 
 temporary confinement. 
 
 Soon Cassy the cook and Mandy the parlor-maid 
 came down the back stairs to set about the morning 
 meal. They greeted Old Isaac, and then Cassy, turn- 
 ing to Alick, said: 
 
 "I been listening at de do' ob dat strange ge'man, 
 an' eberyt'ing is as quiet an' peaceable in dere as in 
 any room in de house. So I jes' made free to unlock 
 dat do' ag'in. 'Caze yer know ef dat ge'man fines his- 
 se'f lock up dar, he mought raise a big fuss. An' de 
 young mist'ess moughtent like it." 
 
 A few minutes later great fires were burning in the 
 open chimneys of all the living-rooms in the old manor 
 house, and an hour later the young mistress of the
 
 118 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 establishment was seated with her guest at a cozy 
 little breakfast table before the open fire of the dining- 
 room. Alick had persuaded Steve to join him in wait- 
 ing on the table, lest the supposed lunatic should be- 
 come violent. But as soon as the coffee was served 
 and all the several dishes in turn handed to the guest, 
 whom Alick watched suspiciously, their mistress said : 
 
 "You may go now. If we need you I will ring." 
 And they left the room. 
 
 Alick, making an excuse to look after the parlor fire, 
 lingered in the hall until the coast wis clear, and then 
 kneeled softly down before the dining-room door and 
 placed his ear to the keyhole. 
 
 And this is what he heard: 
 
 "Lilith, my precious, you must not urge me to stay. 
 Every duty in life calls me away to-day." 
 
 "But you cannot go! Oh, indeed you cannot go! 
 It is not I, but stern necessity, that would keep you 
 here." 
 
 "It is 'stern necessity' that takes me hence, dear 
 child." 
 
 "Ah! but one necessity may be sterner than an- 
 other!" said Lilith, with a smile. "And it is the very 
 sternest necessity that must keep you here. You do 
 not know the danger of these mountain roads during 
 snow-storms. All landmarks are covered, and men 
 have been known to sink in the snow into deep chasms 
 or ravines and perish there. You must not leave the 
 house to-day indeed you must not! You must not 
 go! You might perish in the snow! Oh, indeed you 
 might!" pleaded the young lady. 
 
 "And if I did. Would not that be the very best 
 thing that could happen for you, my Lilith?" 
 
 "Oh, no, no, no! It would be one of the very worst! 
 Oh, do not talk so! And do not think of going out to- 
 day. Do not subject me to so great an anxiety; for if 
 you should leave the house in this storm, I should not
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 119 
 
 know an hour's peace until I should hear of your 
 safety; and how should I hear of it?" 
 
 "You do care for me, then, my child?" 
 
 "Care for you!" 
 
 "And yet you have not known me twenty-four 
 hours." 
 
 "Ah! but I cared for you before I ever knew you! I 
 have told you so. Oh! I felt my heart drawn to you 
 when I first looked upon your picture, when I tkought 
 you were only a relation of my father's, before I knew 
 how near you were, and how dear you would become 
 to me!" 
 
 "And the story that I have told you has not repelled 
 me from you?" 
 
 "Oh! no, no, but made you a thousand times dearer 
 than before." 
 
 Footsteps were heard scuffling along the hall, and 
 Alick arose hurriedly from his position. 
 
 "A'n' Gassy sent me to car' dese in," said Steve, as 
 he came up with a plate of hot buckwheat cakes in 
 his hand. 
 
 "Well, den, take 'em in. I done fix de parlor fire, 
 and was jes' gwine back to de kitchen." 
 
 Steve opened the door to enter the dining-room, 
 but his cakes were not needed. The young mistress 
 and her guest had risen to leave the table. The two 
 servants drew aside, and the lady and gentleman 
 passed on to the parlor. 
 
 The stranger guest stayed all day, and all the next 
 da^', and the next. The roads were known to be impas- 
 sable. No one came to the house, and it was certain 
 that no one could leave it. 
 
 Under ordinary circumstances no evil could be ex- 
 pected to come from the accidental presence of a 
 storm-bound stranger in a lonely country house. 
 
 But in this case, where the mistress of the house 
 was youthful and beautiful, and, in the temporary
 
 120 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 absence of her husband, living quite alone, except for 
 the attendance of colored servants, and where "the 
 stranger within the gates" was young and handsome, 
 and admitted to the daily companionship of the 
 hostess, then indeed, though angels might have smiled 
 at all their interviews, mortals would wonder, specu- 
 late and misjudge. 
 
 No one misjudged so much as stupid black Alick. 
 By watching and listening at every opportunity that 
 he got, he learned enough to excite the most serious 
 suspicions in his own benighted mind, but not enough 
 to allay them. He finally came to the deadly conclu- 
 sion that his mistress and her guest were falling in 
 love with each other, and his soul was fearfully ex- 
 ercised thereby. 
 
 On the afternoon of Friday, Lilith, in her anxiety to 
 hear from her husband, called up Alick and proposed 
 that he should take one of the strong, sure-footed 
 mules and try to reach the post-office. But she warned 
 him not to attempt to proceed if he should find the 
 road perilously obstructed. 
 
 The man accordingly got ready for his "Arctic Ex- 
 pedition," as the stranger guest called it, and at one 
 o'clock set out on mule-back for Frosthill. 
 
 Alick found the roads as bad as they possibly could 
 be not to be utterly impassable. He reached the vil- 
 lage post-office at about three o'clock. 
 
 There was no one on duty but a boy thirteen years 
 old, the son of the postmaster, who unlocked the bag 
 and filled it with about half a dozen letters and as 
 many newspapers for Cloud-Capped Cliffs. Finally h 
 locked the bag and returned it to the messenger. 
 
 "Marse Tom, is yer busy?" inquired the negro, lift- 
 ing a well-filled basket from the floor to the counter. 
 
 "No, and shan't be until the mail comes in," replied 
 the boy. 
 
 "Here's a bag o' nuts from our Eng'ish wa'nut tree.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 An' here's a dozen ob de bigges' apples as ebber 
 growed at Cloud Caps! I gib 'em all to yer, ef yer'Il 
 hab charity to yite one little letter for a po' color' man 
 as can't do it for hisse'f. Will yer now, Marse Tom?" 
 pleaded Alick. 
 
 "Of course I will! That's not much trouble, and I 
 would do it for nothing, willingly," replied the good- 
 natured boy, taking a sheet of note-paper from a pile 
 and preparing to set about the task. 
 
 " 'Rect it to de Hon'able Mr. Tudor Hereward, Es- 
 quire, Member ob Washington City." 
 
 "CLOUD-CAPPED CLIFFS, January 13th, 18 . 
 "MY HONORED MARSTER: W'ich I wouldn't 'sume to 
 take de liberty, ef de case wasn't eminent. W'ich yer's 
 wanted home immediate. W T 'ich dere's a han'some 
 'sinivatin' young youf a-stayin' in de house fo' dese 
 fibe days, an' a-meanin' to keep on a-stayin' in de 
 house, the Lor' on'y knows how long; an' no one to 
 keep his company but de you-ng mist'ess. An' he 
 a-takin' up all her time. \Vich we dem colored people 
 don't 'prove ob de like in de marster's absence. 
 "Yer 'bedient sarvint to command, 
 
 "ALLESANDER TURNBULL." 
 
 The young scribe sealed the letter, and had put a 
 stamp on it and popped that firebrand into the mail. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 PARTING 
 
 SUPPER was over at Cloud-Capped Cliffs, and a fine 
 fire burned in the open chimney of Lilith's parlor. In 
 easy-chairs, on each side of the table, before the fire,
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 sat the young mistress of the house and her storm- 
 bound guest when the door opened, and in walked 
 Alick, in his big black ulster, who laid a mail bag on 
 the table before his mistress. Lilith said: 
 
 "You may go now, Alick, and get your supper and 
 get warm." 
 
 The man ducked his head and went out, and Lilith 
 handed four letters to her guest, laid a pile of maga- 
 zines and newspapers on the table between them, and 
 then asked: 
 
 "Will you excuse me while I open these letters from 
 Mr. Hereward?" 
 
 The stranger bowed and smiled, and began to unseal 
 his own epistles. 
 
 Lilith looked at the dates of hers, and opened the 
 earliest. 
 
 It was written by her husband immediately after 
 his arrival in Washington, and it described his night 
 journey and his arrival at the capital in the morning, 
 just in time to escape the blockade of the road by the 
 snow-storm that had commenced at dawn. 
 
 He begged her to answer his letter by return mail, 
 and to tell him how she had got home on that terribly 
 cold night when she had insisted on riding with him to 
 the railway station, and whether she had taken any 
 harm from the exposure. 
 
 This letter had evidently been lying in the Frosthiil 
 post-office ever since its arrival, five days before. 
 
 Lilith laid it aside with a sigh, and opened the 
 second letter. 
 
 This was of later date, and expressed much anxiety 
 to hear from her; much fear that she was ill from hav- 
 ing taken cold, since he had received no letters; and 
 yet a forlorn hope that it might be only on account 
 of the blockaded country roads that all correspon- 
 dence seemed cut off between them; but begging that
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 123 
 
 as soon as this letter should reach her she should an- 
 swer it by the first mail. 
 
 "I will answer both these before I sleep to-night, 
 and Alick shall take my letter to the post-office in 
 time for the first mail to-morrow," said Lilith to her- 
 self, after she had read them over and over again, 
 dwelling fondly on any expression of interest or affec- 
 tion they contained for herself. 
 
 She slipped them into her pocket and looked up at 
 her guest. 
 
 He had finished reading his correspondence, and 
 was sitting with his elbow on the table, his head rest- 
 ing on his hand, his fine dark curls straying over 
 forehead and fingers, and his dark eyes fixed on her 
 with a pensive gaze. 
 
 "What is it, dear? Dear, what is it?" anxiously in- 
 quired Lilith. 
 
 "Nothing child. Never mind my moods. Have you 
 good news from your husband?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, thank Heaven! He is quite well and very 
 busy." 
 
 "I am glad to hear that. And when I am far away 
 from you it will make me happy to remember how 
 happily you are married." 
 
 "Oh, yes! I am! I am! So much more happily 
 than I ever expected or deserved to be. But why do 
 you speak of the time when you shall be far away? I 
 hate to think of it. We are so contented now." 
 
 "But, my sweet child, I must leave you to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 "But why?" 
 
 "My letters really call me away every one of them, 
 and each is more urgent than its predecessor." 
 
 "I wish I had not written to the postmaster to send 
 your letters as well as mine since they take you from 
 me. But why should you obey the call?"
 
 124, THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 The stranger broke into one of his rare, sweet 
 laughs, and answered: 
 
 "Because, dear, the Grand Plantagen^t and Mont- 
 morencie Combination are due at Staunton on Monday 
 morning, to open on Monday evening v-ith the tragedy 
 of Othello, the opera of Lucia, and the roaring farce of 
 Toodles, and the world-renowned tragedian, tenor and 
 comedian, Mr. Alfred Ancillon, is announced for tlv 1 
 roles of the Moor of Venice, Edgar Ravenswood, and 
 Toodles. Don't you see?" 
 
 "Yes, I see. Oh, what versatility of talent you must 
 have! If you are not 'world-renowned,' you ought to 
 be," said Lilith. 
 
 "That is just my opinion of myself," replied the 
 stranger, with a laugh. "And just the opinion that 
 Stubbs & Smith (Messrs. Plantagenet and Mont- 
 morencie) are trying to impress upon the minds of a 
 benighted public. And now, dearest, I must bid you 
 good-night. You look pale and weary. You must go 
 to rest." 
 
 And so saying the stranger guest arose, tenderly 
 kissed his young hostess, and left the room. 
 
 Lilith also arose, stirred the fire, turned up the light 
 of the lamp, cleared a place on the table, and sat down 
 to answer her husband's two letters in one. 
 
 She told him how glad she had been to get his two 
 letters at once; how anxious she had been to hear from 
 him; how entirely all travel had been impeded on the 
 country roads, and how impossible it had been to send 
 to the post-office until that day. She assured him S:H I 
 had taken no harm from exposure on the night when 
 she had accompanied him to the railway station; 
 that she was quite well, and that everything was going 
 on well at home, except the temporary inconvenience 
 caused by the snow blockade. 
 
 Then Lilith hesitated. She did not know how to 
 introduce the subject of a stranger's sojourn under the
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 125 
 
 roof. She was pledged to keep that stranger's secret. 
 Bj every law of duty she was bound to keep it. Yet, 
 how oould she write truthfully of his visit and Hot be- 
 tray his secret? 
 
 She made several attempts. She wrote: 
 
 "A traveler sought shelter here from the storm on 
 the day after you left, and he has been snow-bound 
 ever since; but he will try to proceed on his journey 
 to-morrow morning." 
 
 "No," she said, after reading these lines over, "that 
 will not do; it is not true. He was not driven in here 
 by the storm. He came to see me, in spite of the 
 storm." 
 
 Then she tore up that page and tried again: 
 
 "A Mr. Alfred Ancillon " 
 
 "No, that will not do either. That is not true either 
 his name is not Alfred Ancillon. Oh, dear! what 
 shall I do! It seems to me so wrong, so criminal, to 
 conceal this strange visit from the knowledge of my 
 husband, and yet how can I write one truthful word 
 about it without betraying him? And I am vowed not 
 to do that. I will write nothing about it. That is the 
 only course I can take without either writing an un- 
 truth or breaking my oath of secrecy and ruining him, 
 and making Tudor and myself miserable for life." 
 
 Yet Lilith sat long with her elbows on the table and 
 her bowed head held between the palms of her hands, 
 as she gazed vacantly on the letter before her, ere she 
 could resolve to close it without telling of this momen- 
 tous visit. 
 
 "Oh, I am morbid over this! I make more of the 
 difficulty than it really is. This visit, so significant to 
 me, is little or nothing to any one else. It is only the
 
 126 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 secret, that, if known, would make all concerned as 
 wretched as it has made me. I will say nothing, since 
 I cannot tell all about it. A partial disclosure would 
 be insincere, dangerous and suspicious. I will say not 
 one word about it. In a day he will be gone ; in a week 
 he will be forgotten by all save me. And so the cloud 
 will pass without breaking." 
 
 With these words Lilith once more addressed her- 
 self to her task, and finished and closed up her letter 
 without once alluding in the slightest degree to her 
 strange visitor. Then she rang the bell that sum- 
 moned the two men-servants to shut up the house, 
 cover the fires and put out the lights. 
 
 When Alick and Steve came in, she said : 
 
 "One of you must be ready to ride to Frosthill to 
 post letters early to-morrow morning. You may settle 
 it between you which is to go." 
 
 Then she took her wax taper which Steve had 
 brought in and went up to her room, where Nancy 
 was waiting to attend to her wants. An hour later 
 the tired little brain and heart forgot all care and 
 trouble in healthful sleep. Very early the next morn- 
 ing the household was astir. The sun was shining; 
 the wind was still; the air mild with the January 
 thaw. The young mistress of the house and her guest 
 met at the breakfast table. 
 
 "I will have to trouble you, my dear, to lend me a 
 horse to take me to the railway station," he said, as 
 soon as Alick had left the room. 
 
 "Then you will go this morning?" sighed Lilith. 
 
 "No, not will, but must," he amended. 
 
 "At what hour do you wish to leave?" 
 
 "In time to secure the ten o'clock express." 
 
 "Then you will have to leave here at eight, and it is 
 half-past seven now," she said, as she rang a bell. 
 
 ''Who is getting ready to go to the post-office?" she 
 inquired of Alick when he answered the summons.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 127 
 
 "Steve, mist'ess." 
 
 "Then tell him to wait. He will have to attend Mr. 
 Ancillon. And tell him to saddle Salidon, for Mr. 
 Ancillon's use." 
 
 "Yes, mist'ess," replied the negro. "Tank de Lord, 
 dat young youf's goin' at las'," he chuckled to himself 
 as he left the room to give the orders. 
 
 Lilith and her guest arose from the table and went 
 together into the little parlor. 
 
 "How shall I hear from you when you are away?" 
 she inquired, anxiously. 
 
 "I hardly know how, my dearest one. But be sure I 
 will find some safe way of communicating with you," 
 he answered, confidently. 
 
 "But you will be very cautious, for your own sake 
 and for mine and his?" she pleaded, earnestly. 
 
 "Cautious? My child, I have graduated in cautious- 
 ness; I have taken a high degree in cautiousness! I 
 am a Master of Cautiousness! A Doctor of Cautious- 
 ness! If I were not I should not be here now to tell 
 you the tale. Fear nothing for me. I am an 'old 
 soldier.' " 
 
 While he spoke he was pulling on his riding coat 
 and drawing on his gloves. 
 
 "Always let me know if I can do anything to please 
 you. You will, won't you?" 
 
 "Yes, dear. Be sure of it. It is hardly possible that 
 you, defended and sheltered from all the storms of life 
 as you are, should ever need my poor services; but if 
 you should, be sure that you will have them through 
 life, and unto death!" 
 
 "Oh, give me some address to which I may write to 
 you. I cannot bear that you should leave me, and 
 leave no clue behind." 
 
 "Let me see. You take the New York Pursuivant'!" 
 
 "Yes, of course."
 
 128 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Then watch the personal columns and use them 
 when necessary." 
 
 "Yes, I will." 
 
 "There are the horses, actually neighing with 
 childish impatience to be off. They have been in stall 
 so long, I suppose. And it is really time to go. 
 Dearest dear, good-bye! I thank and bless Heaven 
 that I have seen you, to know you so well! to find 
 you so good! so altogether lovely! Good-bye, my beaiv 
 tiful! my beloved!" 
 
 He strained her to his bosom, pressed his lips to 
 hers, released her and hurried from the room. Lilith 
 sank down in her chair and burst into a paroxysm of 
 sobs and tears. 
 
 Then suddenly she sprang up, with a great effort 
 controlled her emotion, and went to the door to catch, 
 if possible, the last glimpse of her late guest before he 
 should disappear in the belt of woods that surrounded 
 the house. He was indeed near that bourne, but be- 
 fore entering it he drew the bridle of the powerful 
 black horse he rode, wheeled him around and looked 
 towards the house. Lilith waved her handkerchief. 
 He kissed his hand, threw her the air kiss, wheeled 
 his horse again and was gone. 
 
 Then Lilith returned to her parlor, sank down in her 
 chair, dropped her head upon the table, and prayed for 
 help and light and strength to take her safely on her 
 dark and rugged way. 
 
 A little later she went upstairs in the aimless sort 
 of manner of one who misses something and cannot 
 settle herself at anything. She went into the room 
 lately occupied by the stranger. It was now in perfect 
 order, and Nancy stood by the neatly-made-up white 
 bed, sorting out some linen that had come in from the 
 wash, and that for convenience she had laid upon the 
 top. 
 
 "Look yere, young mist'ess, yere's de ole Marse
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 129 
 
 Major's shirts an' han'chiefs an' fings, wot yer told me 
 to len' to dat young youf wot was wedder-bound yere 
 widout no change ob clothes," said the woman, who 
 scarcely raised her eyes from her work. 
 
 "Very well, Nancy, if they are sufficiently aired put 
 them away in the proper places," said Lilith, indiffer- 
 ently. 
 
 " 'Tain't dat, honey. I knows well 'nough wot to do 
 wid wot's yere. But see yere, honey! Dat young 
 ge'man has wored away a whole suit ob ole Marse 
 Major's underclothes shirt an' undershirt an' socks 
 an' all. An' he's done lef a whole suit ob his own 
 yere. Wot we gwine do 'bout it?" 
 
 "Nothing at all. It is not of the least consequence. 
 Put them all away together." 
 
 "Jes' as yer say, Miss Lilif ; on'y I fought I would 
 tell yer," replied the woman, who proceeded to place 
 the linen on the shelves of the late master's ward- 
 robe. 
 
 "Better not stay in dis cole room, Miss Lilif. Alick 
 done let de fire go down, an' yer might get cole," said 
 Nancy, when she had finished her task and locked up 
 the wardrobe, and was about to leave the place. 
 
 Lilith, who was really shivering either from cold or 
 nervousness, or both, went out and passed into her 
 own bed-chamber, where a good fire was burning. 
 
 She had scarcely seated herself in her cushioned 
 armchair before Nancy, who had followed her, said: 
 
 "Miss Lilif, I don't want to 'larm yer, but I fink 
 somebody had better see inter wot ails Alick; 'deed 
 I do." 
 
 "Is Alick ill? But he cannot be. He seemed well 
 enough at breakfast time." 
 
 "Maybe yer didn' notice him much, young mist'ess. 
 An' maybe he was 'havin' himse'f befo' de stranger; 
 an' I dunno wedder yer'd call it ill, young mist'ess; 
 but I beliebe dat nigger's gwine crazy."
 
 130 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "But why should you think so? And how long have 
 you thought so?" 
 
 " 'Gaze ebber since las' night, when he come f om de 
 pos'-offiee, he has carried on like anybody deluded out 
 of his head. 'Deed, it's de trufe." 
 
 "But in what way? What does he say? What does 
 he do?" 
 
 "I can't hardly tell yer, Miss Lilif. He's fell all de 
 way down de stairs twice dis week; an' it is on my 
 mine as he mought hab hurt his brain-pan an' put his- 
 se'f out'n his senses." 
 
 Nancy did not confess the dreadful truth, that on 
 the last occasion of A lick's rapid downward descent 
 of the stairs she herself had assisted it by knocking 
 him heels over head, and that she had ever since been 
 tortured by conscience. 
 
 "But you have not told me yet in what manner 
 Alick shows his mental derangement. And I suspect 
 it is only your own fancy after all," said Lflith. 
 
 "No, it ain't, honey. Now yer shall judge. I can 
 hardly tell yer wot de po' critter would be at. But dis 
 is de way he goes on. Las' night he come inter de 
 kitchen shakin' his head an' mutterin' to hisse'f, an' 
 sayin' jes' as if he didn' see any ob us cullud people 
 'roun', w'ich I beliebe he didn'. 'Deed, it's de trufe." 
 
 "What did he say?" 
 
 "He say, 'Wot made me go do dat dar fing? 'Spose 
 dere was murder done froo it? Wot made me go an' 
 do it? It wor de debil! 'Deed it wor de debil! I 
 nebber would 'a' done sich a dredfull fing of my own 
 'cord." 
 
 "Now, young mist'ess, I don't mean to say as dem 
 war zactly his own words; but wot he did say war to 
 dat defect. An' ebber so much more ob it. So den at 
 las' I say, 'Alick,' I say, 'wot de name o' sense has yer 
 been an' gone an' done?' I say. An' he say, 'NuffinY
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 131 
 
 But, 'deed, I's feared he's deluded out'n his head, Miss 
 Lilif." 
 
 "Perhaps he has been drinking," suggested the 
 young mistress. 
 
 "Well, now, 'haps he has. But I nebber smell nuffin' 
 offen his breaf. But maybe dat is it. Maybe he got 
 some ob dat rank p'ison cheap w'iskey, wot dey sells 
 to de po' ign'ant cullud men, w'en he went to de pos'- 
 office yes'day. An' ef I fines out dat is so, won't I 
 make him rue de day, dat's all!" 
 
 And Nancy stirred the fire, settled the folds of the 
 curtains at the windows, and finally left the room. 
 
 Lilith finally sent for John Fielding, the overseer of 
 the plantation, and requested him to look after Alick 
 with great care, and promptly report any evil symp- 
 toms he might discover. The manager promised to do 
 his best. Two days later he came to the lady and 
 said: 
 
 "I think the man has something on his mind. He 
 has been doing something that troubles his conscience. 
 He seems to dread discovery and punishment, or some 
 other painful consequences. But I cannot induce him 
 to confide in me, nor can I gain the slightest clue to 
 the nature of his fault." 
 
 "I do not believe the man to be capable of commit- 
 ting any serious offence; I really do not," replied the 
 lady. 
 
 "He thinks he has. He thinks he has committed 
 some crime little less than murder; and he is frigh- 
 tened nearly to death at what may be the conse- 
 quences. He lays the blame on the devil." 
 
 "I know it. But, Mr. Fielding, the poor creature 
 may be a monomaniac on the subject. I have read 
 that monomaniacs sometimes accuse themselves of 
 crimes they never could have committed." 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, so I have heard, too. And such may
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 be the case with this negro. Something should be 
 done at once." 
 
 "What can we do?" 
 
 "Perhaps you might send him away for a time. 
 Change of scene might help him." 
 
 "No, I would not like to send him out of our own 
 care in his present state of mind, or during Mr. Here- 
 ward's absence. Besides, though he may be a lunatic, 
 he is certainly a very harmless one as yet. I will write 
 to Mr. Hereward and ask his counsel. Continue to 
 watch the man, if you please, and let me know if you 
 find any change." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 
 
 WHEN Tudor Hereward bade good-bye to his child- 
 wife on that freezing night at the little Frosthill Rail- 
 way Station, and settled himself in his seat in the 
 crowded car, his thoughts went back to the sweet, shy, 
 tender girl he had just left, rather than forward to the 
 great political problems that must soon engage all the 
 powers of his mind in Washington. 
 
 It is strange, but true, that though Lilith had grown 
 up in his father's house, and had been led to look up to 
 Tudor Hereward as to a superior being, whom she 
 grew to love with all the fervor of her innocent child 
 heart yet he had taken very little notice of her, 
 scarcely any more, indeed, than if she had been one 
 of the colored children about the place. When she 
 was a child he was a school-boy at the Jefferson 
 Academy; when she was a half-grown girl, with a gov- 
 erness at home, he was away at Harvard University; 
 and when he graduated with the highest honors he 
 went to Europe for a year's travel; when he finally 
 returned home to enter upon the political career that
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 133 
 
 most, of all others, attracted him, Lilith was away 
 finishing her education at Vassar College. 
 
 On reaching Washington the passengers left the 
 train in a driving, blinding and confusing snow-storm 
 that obliterated platform, depot, crowds, carriages 
 everything from view. Leaving the train they were 
 speedily covered all over with flakes. They were as a 
 flock of white phantoms coming through a white temp- 
 est to a white city. 
 
 Tudor Hereward tightened his ulster about him, 
 threw his rugs over his left arm, took his valise in his 
 right hand, and strode off towards Pennsylvania 
 Avenue and his hotel. 
 
 As soon as he had taken his bath and his breakfast 
 he sat down in his little room, at the very top of the 
 building, to write to Lilith. 
 
 He was already anxious to hear from her. He feared 
 that she might have taken cold on that freezing night 
 when she drove with him to the depot and colds were 
 often dangerous and sometimes fatal. People in finest 
 health take cold and die of pneumonia with awful sud- 
 denness, he remembered. 
 
 He was very anxious lest that lovely little face 
 should vanish forever from his view, notwithstanding 
 that it did not belong to "the wife he had dreamed 
 of." 
 
 So he cleared a corner of the overloaded table, and 
 sat down to write to Lilith, to tell her of his own safe 
 arrival, to express his fears for her health and well- 
 being, to beg her to answer his letter by return mail, 
 and, above all, to take good care of herself. 
 
 Then he paused, pen in hand, before writing his sig- 
 nature. He wished to be kind as well as to be truth- 
 ful. Finally he signed himself her "Faithful Hus- 
 band." 
 
 He had scarcely settled himself in his seat in the
 
 134- THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 House, and the business of the daj r had not yet com- 
 menced, when one of the pages brought him a card. 
 He glanced at it and changed color. It bore the 
 name of "Miss Von Kirschberg." 
 
 Under the name was written: "Begs to see Mr. 
 Hereward for five minutes only." 
 
 Tudor Hereward hesitated. He did cot wish to s^e 
 Leda Von Kirschberg. Soul and body shrank from the 
 meeting. Yet what could he do? The hereditary chiv- 
 alric deference to woman that had descended through 
 an hundred sires obliged him to accede to her request. 
 
 "Where is this lady? In the reception-room?" he 
 inquired of the page. 
 
 "No, sir; in the library," replied the boy. 
 . Mr. Hereward arose and went thither. He glanced 
 up and down the room, saw the chief librarian at his 
 desk, and two or three assistants going to and fro to 
 put up or take down books from the shelves, and per- 
 haps a half a dozen individuals scattered about at the 
 various tables; and at last he saw a lady seated in a 
 distant nook, and instantly recognized her as Leda 
 Von Kirschberg. 
 
 "I will be the first to welcome you back, Mr. Here- 
 ward," she said, slipping her daintily-gloved hand 
 from her sable muff and putting it in his. 
 
 "I thank you, Miss Von Kirschberg. Pray resume 
 your seat." 
 
 She sank upon the sofa and said: 
 
 "You are surprised that I should have known of 
 your arrival?" 
 
 "Somewhat, since I only came in by the early morn- 
 ing train," he answered, deferentially. 
 
 "Sit down, Mr. Hereward, and I will tell you why 
 one lady came out in this storm. Tudor," she said, 
 dropping her voice and changing color, "I have been 
 very unhappy since our bitter parting on New Year's 
 Eve."
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 135 
 
 "I am very sorry to hear you say so, Miss Von 
 Kirschberg." 
 
 "Ah, do not speak so coldly! You would not if you 
 knew what I have come here to say to you." 
 
 Coldly! It required all his power to control the 
 fever of emotion into which her presence threw him. 
 
 "Tudor," she whispered, in a low and tender tone, 
 while the rose deepened to crimson on her oval cheeks, 
 "Tudor, on that New Year's Eve you told me that you 
 loved me, that your whole life's happiness depended 
 on my love." 
 
 "It was not the least serious mistake of my life, 
 Miss Von Kirschberg." 
 
 "Ah, no, Tudor! You do not know. It was not a 
 mistake. It was the voice of truth and destiny that 
 asked me to become your wife." 
 
 "And you answered that you were the promised 
 wife of another man," he replied, icily, trying to avoid 
 the fair, radiant face whose smile had still the power 
 to thrill him to the soul. 
 
 "A man old enough to be my grandfather a man to 
 whom I never should have been bound by a betrothal 
 at which even you laughed in scorn." 
 
 "In the bitterness of disappointment rather. But 
 let that pass. You very properly held such a be- 
 trothal, once made, forever sacred." 
 
 "I did until after the agony of our parting on that 
 bitter night. Immediately after you left me I left the 
 ball. I went home, so infinitely desolate in the 
 thought that all was over between us, that we could 
 never again meet as we had met, never again be any- 
 thing, even friends, to each other, that I wished to die. 
 Then a desperate remedy occurred to me to write to 
 my betrothed. And before I slept that night I wrote 
 to Mr. Bruyin and told him the truth. It was his due. 
 And I appealed to his generosity for my release."
 
 136 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Leda! Leda!" he exclaimed, in hoarse, guttural 
 tones. 
 
 She saw his strong emotion, and she misunderstood 
 it, of course. 
 
 She smiled her radiant, bewildering smile, and con- 
 tinued : 
 
 "Mr. Bruyin generously released me. He could not 
 do otherwise. My father also agreed to the dissolu- 
 tion of the betrothal. He could refuse nothing to his 
 only child. And thus I am free, free, Tudor!" 
 
 "Leda! Leda!" he breathed, in a tone almost inau- 
 dible in its deep pain. 
 
 "This overwhelms you, my frie'nd! Ah, you did not 
 believe in the love that you sought," she said, joy- 
 ously, still misapprehending his emotion. "Well, I 
 was free. I never went out, or received a call, until 
 I was free. Then I went out on the chance of meet- 
 ing you; but I could see you nowhere." 
 
 "I had left the city," he murmured. 
 
 "Yes, so I heard at last. So I might have learned 
 earlier, had I not isolated myself so much and been so 
 deeply absorbed in the one anxiety as to neglect the 
 newspapers. It was only on the evening of the fifth 
 day that, having missed seeing you in the House, I 
 asked my father what had become of you. He told me 
 that you had been called home on some business, lie 
 had forgotten what, but thought you would be back 
 soon. The next day I went to the ladies' gallery of 
 the House, and I have been there every day since, 
 knowing that the first and surest place to find you 
 after your return would be at your post of duty. To- 
 day, as soon as I saw you come in, I sent you my card 
 that you might come to me at once before the serious 
 business of the day should commence. And so, Tudor, 
 the question you asked me on New Year's Eve I can 
 answer now truly, happily. Tudor, take the gift you 
 asked for then."
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 137 
 
 Hereward had a great struggle to overcome his emo- 
 tions, and to speak calmly the words that the case 
 called for. His pierced and rebellious heart cried out 
 within, "Too late! Too late!" But his pale lips, that 
 shook under his fair mustache, said coldly, yet very 
 deferentially: 
 
 "I am very sorry that you have told me all this, Miss 
 Von Kirschberg. I tried to arrest the story, but had 
 no power to do so. I beg now that you will pardon me 
 for having heard it, and to believe that I will try to 
 speedily forget it." 
 
 "But why? Why do you speak so, Tudor?" she in- 
 quired, in alarm. "Do you not understand, Tudor? I 
 tell you I am free free!" 
 
 "I am married," he replied, without looking up. 
 
 She stared wildly at him, while all color and ex- 
 pression fled from her radiant, blooming face, leaving 
 it still and white as marble. 
 
 "It cannot be true! It is a poor jest for you. You 
 were not thinking of marriage a week ago, except with 
 me. You were proposing to me. You have had no 
 time since that to seek a wife. Oh, say that you were 
 jesting with me!" she pleaded. 
 
 "I can but say what is true. I can but repeat that I 
 am married." 
 
 The proud woman, who had humbled her pride in 
 vain, tried to sustain her dignity under this final blow, 
 but failed. Tudor Hereward saw her lips grow white 
 and her head sink, and he hastened to bring her a 
 glass of water. She bowed her thanks, drank it and 
 returned the empty glass, which he set down upon 
 the nearest table. 
 
 "Had not this painful interview best terminate now, 
 Miss A r on Kirschberg?" he inquired, with deferential 
 interest.
 
 138 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 She made a great effort to rally her strength, and, 
 ignoring his question, said: 
 
 "This marriage seems to have been a very sudden 
 one." 
 
 "Very sudden," he assented. 
 
 "And who was the bride?" she inquired, speak- 
 ing with some difficulty. 
 
 "My father's adopted daughter. But this cannot 
 interest you, Miss Von Kirschberg." 
 
 "No, it cannot, indeed. And you do not love her." 
 
 "Pardon me, Miss Von Kirschberg; but surely this, 
 also, need not concern you." 
 
 "It need not in the least degree. But, poor girl! she 
 is much to be pitied, for she is likely to be very un- 
 happy." 
 
 "I shall endeavor to prevent that, and to make my 
 child-wife quite content." 
 
 " 'Child-wife!' Ah, that explains everything. No 
 woman with any knowledge of her own heart would 
 take a man so suddenly. But she will be a woman 
 some of these days, and a woman very much to be 
 pitied." 
 
 "I cannot see why. I shall try to make her happy." 
 
 "A woman is never happy unless she is loved, and 
 most unhappy if she be married and unloved," said 
 Leda Von Kirschberg. 
 
 Then rising, with more calm dignity than her pre- 
 vious disturbance could have promised, she said: 
 
 "Mr. Hereward, I am detaining you from important 
 duties." 
 
 He bowed profoundly and withdrew from the 
 library.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 139 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 WARNING 
 
 FROM that most agitating interview in the Congres- 
 sional Library, Tudor Hereward went to his seat in 
 the House of Representatives. 
 
 He found the needed quorum there at last. The 
 members, who had probably been delayed by the snow- 
 storm and the over-crowded and impeded street cars, 
 were at last in their seats, and the affairs of the nation 
 were in full blast. 
 
 It was late that night before the House adjourned, 
 and the young statesman walked from the Capitol 
 through the still driving storm to that den at the top 
 of the hotel which, for the want of a better, he called 
 home. He was utterly wearied, yet triumphant, for 
 his bill had passed, though by a small majority. 
 
 He sat down in his disordered room; his writing- 
 table piled up with unanswered letters; his waste- 
 basket overflowing with letters never to be answered. 
 
 He found upon his table, in addition to all the 
 letters he had laid aside to answer, a dozen or so of 
 new ones that had come in during the day, and had 
 been brought to his room and left on his table by the 
 hotel porter. 
 
 He sat long into the night, his head bent over his 
 work, his pen flying over the paper. 
 
 At length, when outraged nature could bear no 
 more, though half the letters waited to be answered, 
 he leaned back in his chair and took out his watch 
 to see if there were yet time enough to ring and order 
 up a sandwich and a cup of tea. 
 
 Five o'clock! And so swiftly had time passed in hia 
 deep absorption that he had not thought it later than 
 two. Five o'clock! The house had been closed for
 
 140 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 hours. The stormy winter day had not yet dawned. 
 He was nearly prostrated through working and fast- 
 ing. It was impossible to get anything to eat, but ho 
 could rest. He slowly and wearily drew off his clothes, 
 turned off his gas, and went to bed. But he was too 
 tired and excited to sleep. 
 
 "If I could only afford the help of a private secre- 
 tary, this wear and tear of mind and body need not g > 
 on," he said; "but that is a luxury that must not be 
 thought of at present. What terrible weather! I hope 
 my little girl caught no cold. I hope she is comfort- 
 able in that barn-like old manor house. She must 
 be very, very lonesome, poor child. Not a soul in the 
 house with her except the colored servants. And no 
 possibility of visiting or receiving visits in such 
 weather as this. It must be very trying for her, so 
 soon after our heavy bereavement, too. I half wish 
 I had brought her here with me. Yet in what respect 
 would she have been better off? She knows no one 
 here. And in her deep mourning she could not even 
 have gone out to the public receptions. And w r hat 
 company should I be to her, absent at the Capitol all 
 day long, and bending over my writing-table all night? 
 Besides, she would hinder my work. Yet, poor little 
 girl! it cannot be helped. She must stay and mope 
 where she is, and I must stay and toil at my post." 
 
 At length, toward seven o'clock in the morning, 
 when the first faint dawn of the dark winter day stole 
 through the one window of his' room, thoughts became 
 confused with dreams, and the wearied brain and 
 troubled heart found rest in sleep. 
 
 This day was the type of many days that followed 
 the forenoon spent in committee-rooms, the afternoon 
 and evening in the Hall of Representatives, and more 
 than half the night in his dreary and disorderly room, 
 engaged in preparing speeches, and writing and an- 
 swering letters.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 141 
 
 Only on one occasion did Hereward appear in pub- 
 lic, and then only as a matter of duty. 
 
 Once in the course of the season it obliged him to 
 attend the President's reception. 
 
 It was on the first Friday evening after his return 
 to Washington. 
 
 Conspicuous among all the ladies, both by her ma- 
 jestic beauty and magnificent toilet, was the famous 
 heiress, Leda Von Kirschberg. 
 
 Tudor Hereward felt her presence through every 
 fibre of his frame, even before he saw her face. 
 
 She was leaning on the arm of a very decrepit old 
 gentleman, who was not her father, but a much older 
 and very much richer man, understood to be Mr. 
 Nicholas Bruyin, the happy bridegroom-expectant of 
 the handsome heiress. 
 
 Tudor Hereward heard all this in the low hum of 
 voices; but as the ill-assorted pair drew near him, he 
 turned and lost himself in the crowd in the opposite 
 direction. 
 
 He could not behold her face or hear her voice with- 
 out the strongest emotion, even though now he dis- 
 trusted her more than ever. How came she to be here 
 on the arm of her old lover if she had really broken 
 with him, as she had said? 
 
 Was the aged billionaire doting as well as decrepit, 
 that he had become her suppliant after such a rup- 
 ture? Had she no self-respect that she yielded to his 
 solicitations and reinstated him in his vacated 
 position? 
 
 Or degrading suspicion! had she never broken 
 with her old lover at all, and never intended to break 
 with him until she should be sure of an engagement 
 with Tudor Hereward? Did she think it best to re- 
 verse the old proverb, and act upon the most politic 
 if not the most honorable plan, and be sure to be on 
 with the new love before she was off with the old?
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 Appearances looked exceedingly like it, thought 
 Hereward, as he watched her from a distance, distrust- 
 ing her thoroughly, yet thrilling at every glance of her 
 eyes, or tone of her voice. The sight of Leda Von 
 Kirschberg had so disturbed him that, having already 
 paid his respects to the President and his circle, he 
 withdrew from the crowded rooms, and returned to 
 his den in the top of the hotel, and sat down to his 
 writing-table to work half the night; for on the next 
 day he would have to address the House on the sub- 
 ject of the tariff. 
 
 That night was the last in which he ever saw Leda 
 Von Kirschberg. When next he met her she bore an- 
 other name. 
 
 The snow-storm was succeeded by sunny, spring- 
 like days. 
 
 Hereward's great speech on the tariff has passed 
 into history, and need not be further mentioned here. 
 
 When he returned to his hotel on Saturday night, 
 he went first into the reading-room to look at the eve- 
 ning papers. 
 
 One of the first items that met his glance was this 
 "Personal": 
 
 "Mr. and Miss Yon Kirschberg, accompanied by Mr. 
 Nicholas Bruyin, left Washington this morning by an 
 early train for New York. The marriage of Miss Yon 
 Kirschberg and Mr. Nicholas Bruj'in, announced some 
 ten days ago, is to be celebrated at the Cathedral in 
 New York on Tuesday next. After which the newly- 
 married pair will sail on the fine steamer Kaiser Wil- 
 helm for Bremen, on a visit to the bridegroom's rela- 
 tives in Germany. They expect to visit Vienna, Lon- 
 don and Paris, but to be in Rome for the Carnival." 
 
 Before Hereward left his chamber the next morning 
 his mail was brought to him by the hotel messenger,
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 143 
 
 who had taken it, together with all letters for the 
 house, out of the post-office there was no delivery on 
 the Sabbath. Hereward sat down to the table, not 
 to read ornswer all those letters then, but to pass 
 them through his hands and see whether there was 
 any one from Lilith, on whose account he was grow- 
 ing very anxious; for he had not heard from her since 
 he had left home. He looked through the whole par- 
 cel without finding any letter directed in Lilith's hand- 
 writing. But just as he was about to put the whole 
 pile aside, his glance happened to fall on an ill- 
 directed envelope bearing the postmark of Frosthill. 
 He took it up. 
 AND ALICK'S FIREBRAND WAS IN HIS HANDS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 LILITH'S LONELINESS 
 
 THROUGH all the dreary week that followed the de- 
 parture of her mysterious guest, Lilith moped in utter 
 solitude except for the attendance of her colored 
 servants. 
 
 When the storm was past and the great January 
 thaw set in, the country roads were even in a worse 
 condition than before. 
 
 The 15th of January, though it was in mid-winter, 
 was a bright, lovely, summer-like day. 
 
 Lilith, glad to greet the sunshine and warmth, went 
 out after breakfast to walk up and down on the long 
 front porch. 
 
 Presently a carriage appeared, coming around the 
 sweep of the avenue, and soon drew up before the 
 house.
 
 144 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 Three ladies got out in turn, whom Lilith recognized 
 as they appeared first, Mrs. Jabez Jordon, wrapped 
 in a costly India shawl, wearing a black velvet bonnet 
 and carrying a South Sea otter muff; secondly, her 
 elder daughter, Miss Harriet Miles; and thirdly, her 
 younger one, Miss Emily Miles. 
 
 Smiling and holding out her hands, Lilith exclaimed, 
 sincerely : 
 
 "I am so glad to see you all! Oh, I do thank you so 
 much for coming!" 
 
 "We should have come before, my dear, if the 
 weather and the roads had permitted," said Mrs. Jor- 
 don, as she received the girl's welcoming kiss. 
 
 "Oh, I know! I know! No one could come out 
 under such circumstances. But now you have come to 
 spend the day with me, haven't you? And you will let 
 me send your carriage around to the stables, will you 
 not?" eagerly questioned Lilith, addressing the elder 
 lady, between the kisses she was bestowing on the 
 younger ones as she drew them up the steps. 
 
 "Yes, we have come to spend the day," said Mrs. 
 Jordon. "Jed," she added, looking back over her 
 shoulder to the coachman, "put the horses up, and 
 mind that you rub them down well." 
 
 The coachman touched his hat and drove off towards 
 the stables. 
 
 "The state of the roads has kept everybody away. 
 Even Ru's stage guests. You should see some of the 
 oddities Ru brings to the house," said the younger 
 Miss Miles. 
 
 "What sort of people are they?" inquired Lilith. 
 
 "Why, all sorts of people. Last autumn, when the 
 circus was at Frosthill, he brought the clown to spend 
 Sunday and stay overnight. Two weeks after that he 
 brought the living skeleton. He brings all sorts of 
 people, except respectable people, my dear," said the 
 younger Miss Miles.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 145 
 
 "Oh, Emily!'' cried the elder sister, "you cannot say 
 that Mr. Alfred Ancillon was not respectable! He was 
 more than respectable! Mrs. Hereward," she said, 
 turning from her sister and addressing her hostess, 
 "this gentleman is one of the most accomplished men 
 I have ever met in my life! He spent a day and night 
 with us on the week before last." 
 
 Mrs. Jordon put in her word: 
 
 "Yes," she said. "Although professionally nothing 
 better than a strolling player, Mr. Alfred Ancillon was 
 really a very gifted, cultured and gentlemanly person, 
 but looking, for all his youth and his irrepressible 
 gayety, as if he had passed through the fire at some 
 period of his life. He interested me very much; and 
 as for Harriet there," she added, nodding towards her 
 elder daughter "well, all I have to say now is just 
 this, that I am glad the young fellow went away when 
 he did. And well as I liked him, I hope he will never 
 come back; for I want no love-sick girls in my family!" 
 
 "How can you, mamma!" exclaimed the elder Miss 
 Miles, with an indignant blush. 
 
 "Pooh, pooh! my child, you are flesh and blood like 
 other people, for all your dignity," laughed jolly Mrs. 
 Jordon. "But now let the subject of this strolling 
 player drop. I did not come here to talk of him. J 
 came here for a purpose, which is strengthened by all 
 I see. Lilith, my little angel, I came this morning to 
 carry you home with us this evening to Rushmore, to 
 spend a week." 
 
 Lilith's pensive face brightened at the prospect; but 
 she had some doubts about the expediency of accept- 
 ing her kind neighbor's invitation. 
 
 "Oh, my dear Mrs. Jordon, I thank you so very, very 
 much, indeed I do! I should like to go so very much. 
 But I am not sure that it would be quite right for me 
 to leave home just now, so soon after after our 
 great loss, and in the absence of my husband, too. I
 
 146 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 beg pardon, but would it? Please tell me yourself 
 not what you and I wish, for you want to have me, 
 and I want to go, oh, so very much! but what you 
 think, when you reflect upon it ; is right and proper 
 for me to do," said Lilith, earnestly. 
 
 "My child, it is perfectly right and proper for you to 
 accept my invitation and come to me for a visit. If it 
 had not been so, do you suppose I should have asked 
 you?" questioned the lady. 
 
 "No, of course not. I should have remembered 
 that! I beg your pardon, Mrs. Jordon," said Lilith, 
 ingenuously. 
 
 "Nonsense, my dear! There! Go and see to your 
 preparations." 
 
 "My preparations are soon made. I shall not be 
 gone more than fifteen minutes," replied Lilith, as she 
 smiled, nodded, and left the room. 
 
 She ran up to her own chamber and called Nancy 
 and told her of the intended visit. 
 
 "An' I am right down glad to hear ob it, Miss Lilif ! 
 dat I am! You's been moped mos' to deaf here by 
 your lone se'f! Now, wot yer want me put up for 
 yer?" inquired the woman. 
 
 Lilith told her and added: 
 
 "You can get them all into the valise, Nancy." 
 
 Then she gave her housekeeper a few instructions 
 and cautions for her conduct and care of the house 
 during the next week: 
 
 In conclusion she said: 
 
 "And if there should be any serious change in 
 Alick's condition send and inform me at once." 
 
 The remainder of the day passed very pleasantly, 
 and after an early tea the whole party set out to drive 
 to Rushmore. 
 
 The moon was at its full that night, and the roads 
 were in good condition. So the drive from Cloud-
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 147 
 
 Capped Cliffs to Kushmore Lodge was a very pleasant 
 one. 
 
 Two hours of rather slow, because very cautious, 
 driving brought the party to Rushmore Lodge, an old- 
 fashioned, oblong building of red brick, w T ith upper 
 and lower piazzas running all around the house, which 
 was standing in the midst of heavily-wooded grounds. 
 
 "Where is your master?" inquired Mrs. Jordon of 
 the servant, as she led her party into the warm and 
 bright interior. 
 
 "Marse Ru's gone to de show, ma'am; but he lef his 
 complimen's an' say how not to set up for him, 'caze he 
 'spec's he'll be late," replied the man, as he followed 
 his mistress and her party into the parlor, and took up 
 the tongs to mend the fire. 
 
 " 'Show?' What show?" demanded the lady. 
 
 "I I dunno, mist'ess, indeed! But it is some show 
 or rudder, I know." 
 
 "That's lucid," laughed Mrs. Jordon, as she laid off 
 her bonnet and shawl and invited her ypung guest to 
 do the same. 
 
 Then they all dropped into the easiest chairs and 
 sofas near the fire, with that enjoyment of luxurious 
 rest which follows a long drive. 
 
 And after awhile the crochet and embroidery were 
 taken up, and light work and lighter chat went on 
 until ten o'clock, when Mrs. Jordon had refreshments 
 brought in Lot mulled port wine and pound cake. 
 
 When they had dispatched these good things and 
 sent away the service, the domestics were called in for 
 evening prayers, after which the party prepared to 
 separate for the night. 
 
 "Jupe," said Mrs. Jordon to the old man-servant 
 who had come in to cover up the fire and put out the 
 lights, "I think you "had better keep up the fire and 
 bring in something in the shape of supper for your 
 master, who may return cold and hungry. Mrs. Here-
 
 148 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 ward, I will take you to your room," said the hostess, 
 drawing Lilith's arm within her own and leading her 
 out of the parlor. 
 
 They went up a broad flight of stairs to the upper 
 hall, upon which several doors on either side opened. 
 
 "Those," said Mrs. Jordon, pointing to a row of four 
 doors on the left as they went up the hall, "are the 
 chambers reserved for Hilary and his bachelor friends. 
 These," she continued, pointing to a similar row on the 
 right, "are sacred to me, my girls, and our visitors. 
 Here, my dear, is yours, the first one we come to; the 
 next is the girls', and the farthest off, the front one, 
 is mine." 
 
 Saying this, Mrs. Jordon opened the door before 
 which they stood and ushered Lilith into her bed- 
 chamber. 
 
 Old Persian rugs lay about the room wherever they 
 were most needed as before the fire, beside the bed, 
 and below the dressing bureau. 
 
 A broadly-smiling young negro girl stood by the 
 washstand, showing in her attitude and expression 
 how glad she was to see company, and how eager she 
 felt to make herself useful. 
 
 "Here is Soph. She will wait on you, my dear, and 
 you will find her a docile little maid, if not a very 
 bright one," said Mrs. Jordon. 
 
 "I should think Soph very, very bright indeed," an- 
 swered Lilith, looking kindly on the smiling lips and 
 laughing eyes of her new attendant. 
 
 Finally the hostess went all over the room to see 
 that her guest had everything she needed, and then 
 she and her daughters, who had followed her, kissed 
 Lilith good-night and left her. 
 
 Lilith prepared for bed. 
 
 "I need not detain you, Sophy," she said to her new 
 maid. 
 
 "Den I's feared yer doan like me, mist'ess, 's well as
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 149 
 
 I do you," replied the girl, in a grieved and disap- 
 pointed tone. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I do, Sophy. I like you very much in- 
 deed," said the young lady, smiling on the girl. 
 
 "Well, den, mist'ess, w'y woan yer let me take down 
 yer ha'r an' bresh it, an' pull off yer shoes an* 
 stockin's, an' yub yer feet, like Suke does fer de ole 
 mist'ess, and Sal does fer de young mississes?" said 
 Soph, in a complaining tone. 
 
 Lilith laughed as she understood the situation. 
 
 Here was a young, inexperienced girl, proud of her 
 promotion to the position of a lady's maid, and anxious 
 to be trusted with all the duties of her office, even to 
 those most menial services which the self-indulgence 
 of the other ladies required of their maids. 
 
 Lilith was too good-natured to disappoint the girl. 
 
 "Oh, yes; certainly you shall do all this for me if 
 you will be so kind. It is late, and I did not wish to 
 keep you up; that is all, child," she said, as she 
 dropped into a low-backed chair, and let down all her 
 curly black hair, and put it at her little maid's mercy. 
 
 Arming herself with a stiff brush, which she took 
 from the bureau, and muttering to herself that 
 "Nuffin' wasn't no trouble, an' she did like to set up 
 late, 'special now w'en she would be 'feared to go 
 downsta'rs in de dark by herse'f, 'fo' Suke an' Sal come 
 out'n de yudder yooms to go 'long ob her," she com- 
 menced experimenting on Lilith's silky black tresses. 
 
 Lilith had rather expected to be tortured, but she 
 was agreeably disappointed. 
 
 Then she sat down and drew off the young lady's 
 shoes and stockings and insisted on "yubbing" her 
 feet. It was while she was engaged in this work that 
 she suddenly broke out with: 
 
 "I hope Marse Ru won't fetch none ob dem dere 
 hobgobs yere, mist'ess." 
 
 "Hobgobs?" repeated Lilith, questioningly.
 
 150 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Yes, mist'ess, shows, an' sarcusses, an' tings ! 
 Ebery time dey come to de town ober yander Marse 
 En 'vvites 'em yere an' entertains 'em jes' 's if dey was 
 p'esiden's an' gen'als an' fings. Ole mist'ess doan 
 'probe ob it, an' no mo' doan we-dem cullud people." 
 
 "There, jophy! There are your friends coming," 
 said Lilith, glad to stop the girl from gossip without 
 hurting her rather sensitive feelings. 
 
 "Oh, my! Dey musV go downsta'rs an' leabe me to 
 fin' my way in the dark!" cried Soph, unceremoniously 
 going to the door, opening it and calling to her two 
 giggling fellow-servants: 
 
 "Come in yere an' wait fo' me. I ain't got t'rough, 
 wid my lady yet. I doan hurry t'rough my work an' 
 'lect my ladies, I doan!" 
 
 Glad of an excuse to come in and see a new face, the 
 two maids entered, still giggling, courtesied, and stood 
 respectfully just inside the closed door. 
 
 Lilith smiled and nodded to them, while Soph 
 proudly went about the chamber picking up and put- 
 ting away her new mistress' effects. 
 
 At last even Soph herself was satisfied to confess 
 her services complete, for the time being. 
 
 She courtesied . good-night to her new lady, joined 
 her companions and left the room. 
 
 Lilith locked the door after them, turned down her 
 light and went to bed. 
 
 Few people can go to sleep at once in a strange bed. 
 Lilith could not. It was not care that kept her awake, 
 not even care concerning that terrible family secret 
 which had come to her knowledge through reading the 
 old letters; for the disclosures of her mysterious visi- 
 tor even while his presence filled her with intense 
 anxiety had taken the venomed sting out of that old 
 horror. 
 
 At length Lilith dropped into a sound sleep, from 
 which she did not awake until morning.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 151 
 
 Then, indeed, she was shocked from her slumber 
 with a vengeance. 
 
 A rumbling and tumbling noise, as if the w r hole 
 house was falling over her head, accompanied by a 
 succession of piercing screams, wrenched her so rudely 
 and suddenly from the land of dreams, that w r hen she 
 found herself she was standing in the middle of the 
 floor, instinctively, blindly getting into her dressing- 
 gown, while the piercing screams continued to split 
 the air. 
 
 In another instant Lilith had torn open her chamber 
 door and burst out into the hall, breathlessly de- 
 manding: 
 
 "What is the matter? Oh, what is the matter? 
 Who is hurt? Is any one killed?" 
 
 While outside the other bedroom doors stood other 
 members of the family Mrs. Jordon and her two 
 daughters, all in their hastily put on wrappers, and 
 Mr. Rufus Hilary, in his blue dressing-gown, and with 
 his red hair on end, and all in the highest state of 
 terror and excitement, demanding, as with one voice: 
 
 "What on earth is the matter? What is it? What 
 has happened? Is the house on fire? Has murder 
 been done?" 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 "FOREGATHERED wi' THE DE'IL" 
 
 THE shrieks continued without an instant's inter- 
 mission. 
 
 "It is downstairs whatever it is! Rufus Hilary, 
 why don't you run and see?" cried Mrs. Jordon, shiver- 
 ing with cold in the bleak hall. 
 
 "I'll bet anything in this world that it is nothing but 
 those idiotic negro girls! There! you see, they have
 
 152 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 stopped yowling now! Of course it was those fools! 
 Frightened at Heliogabolas, I reckon," said Mr. 
 Hilary, as his pug nose and freckled face grew red 
 with annoyance. 
 
 "Helio who? What? Is that another new dog 
 you have been buying, Rufus?" 
 
 "It's not a dog, mother. It's Heliogabolas! That 
 is to say, the name in full is Kadmus Heliogabolas 
 Arminicus, the tattooed giant, one of the greatest won- 
 ders in this world! I brought him home with me last 
 night after you had all gone to bed." 
 
 "And I suppose the wretched maids, coming up- 
 stairs to their duties, met this tattooed giant coming 
 down and took him for the devil, and no wonder!" 
 angrily exclaimed Mrs. Jordon. 
 
 "Yes! That's it! That's the row! Now, don't be 
 frightened; there's no harm done! I'll go down as 
 soon as ever I'm dressed. BY JOVE!" 
 
 This last objurgation was called forth and uttered 
 resentfully at the sudden sight of Lilith, who still 
 stood just inside her chamber door, but whom Bufus, 
 in his excitement, had not chanced to notice until this 
 moment. He shot back into his bedroom and banged 
 to the door. 
 
 As soon as her son had vanished from the scene, 
 Mrs. Jordon went to her guest and said, apologet- 
 ically: 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Hereward, I am so mortified that you 
 should have been disturbed in this reprehensible man- 
 ner, on this very first morning o'f your visit. What 
 must you think of us? But, my love, ever since Rufus 
 Hilary came into possession here, this place has been 
 'Headlong Hall;' no better! And he brought one of 
 his monstrosities home with him last night, as you 
 have just heard, and terrified the poor negro girls out 
 of their wits. Ah! If I were in authority here I'd
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 153 
 
 soon 'show' these show people that this manor house 
 is not a common caravansary!" 
 
 "Oh, please," began Lilith, as soon as she could put 
 in a word "please don't mind me. Bless you! I like 
 it all! I think it very amusing! I do, indeed! And 
 just think what fun it will be to have the what is he? 
 the tattooed Arminian giant in the house with us! 
 Perhaps at the breakfast table with us. Will he break- 
 fast with us, Mrs. Jordon?" 
 
 "Oh, I dare say, my dear. Breakfast with us, dine 
 with us, sup with us, stay all night with us, and live 
 with us as long as he pleases, for aught I know to the 
 contrary," exclaimed the highly provoked woman. 
 
 "Quite right! We shall find a great deal of amuse- 
 ment in him," said Lilith, with a gay little nod, as she 
 re-entered her bedroom and closed the door. 
 
 She found the room warm enough to dress in. The 
 great fire of heavy hickory logs had kept up all night, 
 though the bright blaze had long subsided to a dull, 
 red glow. 
 
 Lilith replenished it from a box of pine kindlings in 
 the corner, raised a cheerful blaze, and then began to 
 make her morning toilet. 
 
 It was very well that she could dispense with the 
 attendance of a maid; for all Mrs. Jordon's peremp- 
 tory tintinnabulations were utterly unproductive of 
 maid-servants from below. 
 
 At last that lady dressed herself in the cold and hur- 
 ried downstairs in heat. 
 
 In her haste she ran against old Jupe, the butler, 
 who was crossing the hall at the foot of the stairs with 
 a large waiter of china, which he was taking into the 
 dining-room to set the breakfast table. Jupe reeled 
 and then recovered himself amid the jingling of the 
 tea-cups, without serious damage to his nerves, or 
 other remark than 
 
 "Lor'-a-messy upon me!"
 
 154 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Where are the maid-servants? Where is Sally? 
 Where is Sukey? Where is Sophie? W T here is every- 
 body? Why don't someone answer my bell? Why 
 have the maids not come up to make the fires? And 
 what has been the reason of all this hullabaloo down- 
 stairs? Can't you answer me? Leave off staring and 
 speak, you idiot! It was the man from the show that 
 frightened the maids, I suppose?" 
 
 "Yes, mist'ess, in coorse it wer him dat derc 
 speckled an' striped an' spotted giant. He did it! 
 He scarified dem po' chillun inter fits! An' 'nough 
 to do it, too! I seen him, mist'ess a great, tall, 
 broad man, wid a big head, an' his face, an' his neck, 
 an' his arms, an' his legs, 'low de knees, all de bright 
 colors ob de rainbow blue, an' yallor, an' red, an' 
 green! Wid a great w'ite turban big as a wash-tub 
 on his head, an' a great black beard, much as free 
 or fo' hosses' tails, hangin' from de middle ob his face 
 to de middle ob his body! An' he dress' so funny. 
 I nebber could 'scribe it! all loose w'ite trousers, 
 an' star-spangle' banners, an' scarfs, an' silver dollars. 
 He wer a sight to behold, mist'ess! I seen him, mis- 
 t'ess, jes' as he wer a-comin' down an' dem free mis- 
 fortinit gals was a-goin' up. An' nex' fing all free ob 
 'em opened deir wide moufs an' screamed fit to split 
 de roof offen de house, an' tumbled heels ober head 
 all de way down de stairs an' lay kickin' an' screechin' 
 dere, all mix' up togedder so yer couldn' tell one f om 
 t'oder, or heads f'om foots!" 
 
 "And what did that monster do when he saw the 
 mischief he had caused?" 
 
 "Nuffin'. Jes' stalk' right ober dem as if dey had 
 been so much dirt under his feet, an' stalk right out'n 
 de font do', w'ich happen to be open, 'caze I war jes' 
 shakin' de mats out leastways I had been a-doin' 
 so." 
 
 "And what did you do?"
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 155 
 
 "I went to dem chillun an' picked 'em all up offen de 
 flo' an' tried to make 'em unnerstan' as dere was 
 nuffin' 't all to be af eared ob. But Lor'! I might's well 
 hab talk' to a t'unner storm! Jes' all de answer I got 
 wer all free ob dem a-screechin' in my ears at once 
 fit to bust de top ob my head off." 
 
 "Ugh!" grunted the lady, in strong disgust. "Where 
 is the ogre now?" 
 
 "Yer mean de speckled giant, mist'ess?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Out do's some'rs." 
 
 "Well, go in with your waiter and set the table." 
 
 "An' make a place fo' de speckled giant, mist'ess?''' 
 
 "Yes, of course. He is your young master's guest." 
 
 Rufus Hilary, who was longing to go down to the 
 bright parlor fireside, yet dared not meet his mother 
 alone for fear of a severe lecture, had waited until he 
 saw the three younger ladies descend the stairs, and 
 then he followed them, and in the neatest of morning 
 toilets entered the parlor. 
 
 He nodded to his mother and sisters, and then went 
 up to Lilith, and offering his hand with some little 
 embarrassment, said how very glad he was to see her, 
 and how very grateful he felt for the honor she had 
 done his mother and sisters in coming home with 
 them. 
 
 "It is I who should be, as I am, indeed, very grateful 
 to your dear mother for coming to me in my solitude 
 and fetching me away from my lonely home, so full of 
 sorrowful associations, and bringing me to this pleas- 
 ant and sociable home," said Lilith, smiling. 
 
 "You are very kind to say this. And we shall do all 
 we can to amuse you. You will presently, however, 
 meet a very strange individual whom, I hope, you will 
 believe that I should not have brought to the house 
 had I known that you were to be here," said Rufus, 
 deprecatingly.
 
 156 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Then I am glad you did not know that I was com- 
 ing, Mr. Hilary; for, indeed, I shall be delighted to see 
 your tattooed chief." 
 
 "Rufus, where did you leave your guest?" inquired 
 Mrs. Jordon. 
 
 "Walking up and down there on the front piazza. 
 He hates to stay in the house, so that I thought I 
 wouldn't bring him in until breakfast should be 
 ready." 
 
 "Breakfast will be ready in a very few minutes now, 
 so I think you had better go and bring him in." 
 
 "Now, girls, don't scream. He is a terrific object, 
 but he is as gentle as a lamb; indeed he is." 
 
 Mr. Hilary then went out, and soon returned with 
 the tattooed giant in his wake. He introduced him as 
 follows: 
 
 "Ladies, I have the honor to present to you His 
 Sublime Highness, Prince Kadmus Heliogabolas Ar- 
 minicus, the great Arminian chieftain, who was taken 
 prisoner in his youth by a who were they? some 
 savages, who disfigured (or decorated him, as you like 
 to consider it) in this way; and from whom, after the 
 most terrible sufferings and the most heroic achieve- 
 ments, he finally escaped." 
 
 While Rufus was delivering this speech, which was 
 nearly identical with that of the showman, his little 
 audience had time to examine the giant. 
 
 A giant he was, in point of fact, eight feet high if an 
 inch, with a ninth foot added in the height of his head- 
 gear. 
 
 But let us describe him as he stood, beginning at the 
 top, which was very near the ceiling of the room. 
 
 First, there was an immensely exaggerated white 
 turban, with a stiff gold (or gilt) feather sticking 
 straight up from the top, and a string of small gold 
 (or brass) coins wound in and out among its folds. 
 Below that a face with finely carved features and
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 157 
 
 splendid black eyes, but a face, neck and arms so 
 vividly tattooed in all the colors of the rainbow as 
 to be hideous and utterly indescribable, except in the 
 one particular of the broad black rings that sur- 
 rounded his black eyes, giving to their appearance 
 a supernatural and horrible size. A long and full 
 curling black beard rolled down to his waist. A 
 sleeveless tunic of cloth of gold (or gilt), stamped all 
 over with hieroglyphics of silver, blue and red, 
 reached from his neck to his hips. Below that, full 
 white trousers covered his limbs, and were gathered 
 under gold bands over his knees, leaving the sturdy, 
 tattooed ankles and sandaled feet bare, except for the 
 cross-gartering of silver and gold braid. Heavy gold 
 bands encircled his arms. 
 
 All these details the ladies of the house took in at a 
 glance while Ruf us Hilary was introducing his strange 
 guest. 
 
 The tattooed giant acknowledged the introduction 
 by folding his hands at the back of his neck, and 
 "salaaming" until his white turban touched his gilt 
 sandals. 
 
 "Breakfast is growing cold," snapped Mrs. Jordon. 
 
 "All right. Lead the way to the table, and we will 
 follow you," said Rufus, as he reached up his hand 
 and put it under the giant's arm, to lead him after the 
 ladies to the breakfast room. 
 
 The largest and strongest chair in the house had 
 been placed at the side of the table by the order of 
 Mr. Hilary, for the accommodation of the giant. 
 
 At the suggestion of Hilary, the giant was served 
 with coffee, not in a coffee cup, but in a china bowl, 
 with a cake plate for a saucer. He was also served 
 as abundantly with venison steaks and buckwheat 
 cakes on the largest-sized dinner plates. 
 
 But he eschewed the use of knives and forks, and 
 tore and ate his food with teeth and fingers, sucking
 
 158 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 the latter at intervals, and holding them up and look- 
 ing expectantly at the negro who happened to be 
 nearest to him. 
 
 Hilary, who watched his guest closely and tried to 
 understand his signs, beckoned Jed and told him to 
 take his place behind the giant's chair, with a clean 
 napkin in his hand, and to wipe his "highness' } ' 
 fingers whenever his highness held them up. Jed, 
 with his wool bristling and his flesh creeping, obeyed. 
 
 The two young ladies, w r ho sat on the opposite side 
 of the table, had to keep their eyes upon their plates 
 to avoid a sight that made them sick. 
 
 Lilith, who on this occasion sat near Mrs. Jordon at 
 the head of the table, was, fortunately for her, not in 
 the line of view. 
 
 It was long before the elephantine appetite of the 
 giant could be satisfied. Belays of venison steaks, 
 sausages, and buckwheat cakes came in from the 
 kitchen and vanished before the gastronomic powers 
 of the monster. Kelays of napkins also came out of 
 the sideboard drawers, and were spoiled in turn and 
 dropped in a heap upon the floor by Jed, whose brist- 
 ling hair had time to come quite out of curl in the 
 hour of terror, when he waited behind the "speckled 
 giant's" chair to wipe his greasy, tattooed fingers. 
 
 At last the barbarian was satisfied. 
 
 And when Mrs. Jordon was quite sure of the fact, 
 she gave the signal to rise from the table. 
 
 Mr. Hilary arose, and, as before, put his hand with- 
 in the arm of the giant to lead him forth. 
 
 The ladies lingered around the fire to talk of the 
 monster. 
 
 "Such a beast! It made me sick to see him eat with 
 his fingers and then suck them the pig!" said Har- 
 riet. 
 
 "Do mR f f jek their fingers?" inquired Emily.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 159 
 
 "But, withal, lie was cleanly in his way. He always 
 held up his hands to be wiped, after he had licked 
 them. What did you think of him, Mrs. Hereward?" 
 inquired Mrs, Jordon. 
 
 "I thought him very, very amusing," exclaimed 
 Lilith. 
 
 "Although he never spoke a word?" , 
 
 "Although he never spoke a word," replied Lilith. 
 "But mind," she added, "I do not feel at all sure that 
 he is what he pretends to be. He is a giant, certainly. 
 That fact is undeniable; but I doubt about all the rest 
 of him." 
 
 "But how, my dear? Why?" 
 
 "Nationalities seem rather mixed in him. His cos- 
 tume is incongruous, rather, and so are his manners. 
 They all seem to me a skilful stage make-up, or what 
 I should imagine to be such. He is a giant, of course; 
 we see that; but I doubt the story about his being an 
 Arminian chieftain stolen in his boyhood and tattooed 
 by savages. I doubt his being tattooed at all. I sus- 
 pect him to be a European or American giant, who is 
 merely painted to simulate tattooing, and that these 
 decorations disappear whenever he takes a bath." 
 
 "What a disillusionist you are, Lilith! But what 
 about his salaaming, and his eating with his fingers?" 
 inquired Emily. 
 
 "All acting, perhaps, my dear; and not very consis- 
 tent acting either. Mind, I only suspect this. I do not 
 know it. And, in any case, I really find him very 
 amusing." 
 
 "Well, my love, real or counterfeit, I find him an 
 intolerable nuisance," said Mrs. Jordon, leading the 
 way from the breakfast room.
 
 160 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 LILITH IS SUMMONED 
 
 BUT the visitor did not stay another night; he could 
 not. He dined with the family, on which occasion 
 very much the same scenes recurred that had been en- 
 acted at the breakfast table. 
 
 After dinner the guest retired again to the big par- 
 lor to sit on the "divan" improvised for him by his 
 host, and to smoke his chibouk. Coffee, cakes and 
 sweetmeats were served to him there by a deputation 
 of three waiters Jupe, Jed and Tim headed by their 
 master; for not one of the darkies would venture into 
 the presence of the speckled giant and suspected man- 
 eater alone. 
 
 When the monster had drank several quarts of 
 coffee, and eaten several pounds of confectionery, he 
 slowly reared himself from his recumbent position, 
 and then prepared to leave the house. 
 
 Hilary convoyed him into the presence of the ladies 
 of the family, who were all seated at their work in the 
 little parlor. 
 
 They all arose on his appearance. 
 
 "Prince Kadmus, and so forth, is about to return to 
 Frosthill for the evening exhibition, to which I shall 
 accompany him. As he leaves this neighborhood to- 
 morrow morning he wishes to bid you good-bye, or 
 something to that effect." 
 
 And having said thus much Mr. Hilary stepped 
 aside, and the Arminian chieftain salaamed in the 
 most solemn manner four distinct times, and then 
 backed out into the hall, where Mr. Hilary was put- 
 ting himself into his ulster and fur cap. 
 
 A large open wagon, drawn by two strong mules, 
 stood before the house, with the panic-stricken Jed 
 on the driver's seat.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 161 
 
 Up into this vehicle the giant stepped, and sinking 
 upon the seat, made the whole structure creak and 
 groan under his weight. 
 
 Mr. Hilary, leaving the whole of the back seat to the 
 accommodation of his enormous guest, lightly stepped 
 into the wagon and took his place upon the box be- 
 side the driver, greatly to the encouragement of Jed's 
 intimidated spirit. 
 
 And so they started for Frosthill. 
 
 "Go and open every one of the windows in the big 
 parlor, every one of them ! Take that mattress and rug 
 outdoors and hang them on the fence. Mix a bucket 
 of chloride of lime, and set it on the hearth. Then 
 shut the parlor door and leave all so till bed-time!" 
 
 Such were the prompt and peremptory orders given 
 by Mrs, Jordon to old Jupe, as soon as the sound of the 
 wagon died away in the distance. 
 
 "Xow, my dears, thank Heaven the monster is gone 
 and we can have our tea in peace and decency!" 
 
 "Will you never believe me? Can I never convince 
 you how very much I have enjoyed this bizarre day? 
 This wide departure from wearisome routine?" de- 
 manded Lilith, with a smile. 
 
 "You are very kind to put it in that light, I am sure. 
 Black tea, or green, my dear?" 
 
 "Black, please." 
 
 The merry evening meal went on, and when it was 
 finished the ladies adjourned to the small parlor, 
 where they passed the evening in chatting and fancy 
 work. 
 
 At ten o'clock Mrs. Jordon rang in the servants for 
 evening prayers; soon after which the family prepared 
 to retire. 
 
 On reaching the upper floor, the ladies found the 
 three negro girls huddled together in Lilith's room. 
 This was their first appearance since the morning, for 
 they had hidden themselves in their back attic bed-
 
 162 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 room, and not until "de debil" was ascertained to be 
 out of the house had they consented to come out of 
 their hysterics. 
 
 "You are a pretty set of fools, are you not, now?" 
 questioned the irate lady of the house, as, upon stop- 
 ping before Lilith's open door to bid her guest good- 
 night, she discovered the three maids there. 
 
 "Oh, mist'ess," said Sally, the eldest, "doan blame 
 us, please, ma'am. It was de debil as we met on de 
 sta'rs. 'Deed an' 'deed it was." 
 
 "Then the devil spent the day here and took break- 
 fast and dinner with us. And looked like a man, too. 
 How do you account for that?" demanded their 
 mistress. 
 
 "Oh, ma'am, a book-larn' lady like you knows as do 
 inimy ob mankind can change hisse'f into any form he 
 please, an' eben into bishops, priests an' deacons, as de 
 prayer-book says, an' so 'haps he change hisse'f into a 
 'spectable, 'sponsible, portable lookin' ole gem'an w'en 
 he went afo' yer face!" whimpered Sally. 
 
 "There you see, my dears," said Mrs. Jordon, ad- 
 dressing the younger ladies "you see what tricks im- 
 agination will play with people's senses! These poor 
 creatures imagine that they saw, and therefore did 
 see, something even more terrific than our hideous, 
 tattooed giant! Now, then, you simpletons! Go about 
 your duties. Good-night, my dear Mrs. Hereward. I 
 hope you will rest well, after this mad day, and spend 
 the remainder of your time with us free from dis- 
 turbance." 
 
 And so Mrs. Jordon and her daughters kissed their 
 guest and retired to their own chambers, attended by 
 Sally and Sukey. 
 
 Lilith's little maid, Sophy, was too much subdued by 
 her fright of the morning to be very talkative that 
 night. She waited on her lady in silence and showed 
 no disposition to stay longer than was necessary.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 163 
 
 As soon as she heard her companions come into the 
 hall, she courtesied good-night and joined them. 
 
 Lilith was soon after in bed and asleep. 
 
 And so ended her first day at Rushmore Lodge. 
 
 The days that followed were quiet enough. 
 
 There was "nothing going on" at Frosthill, as Mr. 
 Hilary pathetically complained meaning, of course, 
 that there was no public show of any sort. 
 
 He seemed to have forgotten, or to be willing to for- 
 get, that he had ever made the mistake of proposing 
 marriage to her. 
 
 On Sunday they all went to church. This was the 
 first time that Lilith attended divine service since her 
 marriage, and, as her husband could not be by her 
 side on the occasion, she was very glad to be with 
 Mrs. Jordon and her daughters. 
 
 After the services were over, friends in the congre- 
 gation came forward to speak to Lilith. 
 
 Both the rector and his good wife declared that 
 Lilith must not return to mope alone at the Cliffs, but 
 just so soon as her visit to Rushmore should terminate 
 she must come to the rectory for a few weeks. 
 
 But Mrs. Jordon said that Lilith must stay at Rush- 
 more as long as she and her daughters should be 
 there that was, until the first of February. After 
 which she might feel herself at liberty to visit her 
 friends at the rectory. 
 
 Here Dr. Kerr and Mrs. Kerr came up and shook 
 hands with Lilith, and told her that he and his wife 
 
 had been to call on her at the Cliffs, but had missed 
 
 7 
 
 her, of course. 
 
 In the crowd that filled the churchyard, Lilith saw 
 a group of her own servants from the Cliffs. Among 
 them was Nancy, whom she beckoned to her side, and 
 from whom she learned that all was going on well at 
 the Cliffs, except Aleck, who was "as luny as ebber." 
 
 Lilith then sent kind messages by Nancj to the
 
 164 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 household, and let the woman go back to rejoin her 
 friends. 
 
 As soon as Mrs. Jordon could free herself and party 
 from the coil of acquaintances that surrounded them, 
 they re-entered their large carriage and drove home to 
 Kushmore. 
 
 There they found Mr. Jabez Jordon, a little old man, 
 with gray hair, flushed face, sharp features, keen blue 
 eyes and a "jerky" voice and manner. 
 
 He had come to spend the day and stay overnight 
 until Monday morning. 
 
 "Not that I like to come," he frankly said, as he 
 grimly saluted his wife and step-daughters; "but that 
 if I stay away while Mrs. Jordon is making such a long 
 visit here, people will be saying that we have parted, 
 or some such nonsense, and I should have to knock 
 some half a dozen busy-bodies on the head for it. 
 How do, step-son? How go the shows? The snake 
 charmer and sword swallower, and the like? When 
 you have 'wasted your substance in riotous living' 
 among rope dancers and strolling players, you will, 
 perhaps, turn showman yourself, eh? You had ex- 
 perience enough, eh?" 
 
 "Father," said Hilary, to divert the sour old man 
 from his subject, "here is Mrs. Hereward. You 
 haven't spoken to her yet." 
 
 "Ah! ah! I see! How do, my dear? I heard you 
 were here. Well, I haven't seen you for a month of 
 Sundays. Nor have I pined for your presence. Well, 
 my dear, I congratulate you upon the departure of 
 your late foster-father for the kingdom of Heaven. 
 The kingdom of Heaven is a much happier place to 
 live in than this world. You must agree to that, if 
 you are a Christian. This world, my dear, is a most 
 excellent world however 'to emigrate from.' And 1 
 condole with you from the bottom of my heart on 
 your marriage, my poor child. Matrimony may be a
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 165 
 
 'holy' state, but it is not a happy one. Quite the con- 
 trary, as you will be sure to find." 
 
 "Old Jab is a 'rum un,' Mrs. Here ward. You must 
 not mind him," said Mr. Hilary, apologetically. 
 
 Lilith smiled in silence as she turned and went up-; 
 stairs with the two girls to take off her bonnet and 
 wraps. 
 
 The family met at dinner, where Old Jab, the worst 
 of pessimists, would have made everybody very uncom- 
 fortable with his sarcasms and cynicisms, had he not 
 been kept in order by Mrs. Jab. 
 
 The young people were heartily glad when, on Mon- 
 day morning, directly after breakfast, he took his 
 leave. 
 
 As soon as the sound of Old Jab's horse's hoofs were 
 lost in the distance, the four ladies wrapped them- 
 selves up warmly and went out on the lawn before 
 the house, to take a "constitutional," indulging in 
 desultory conversation as they walked. 
 
 "I never saw any one so improved in health and 
 spirits in so short a time as you have been, Lilith, in 
 the few days you have stayed with us," said Harriet, 
 who was walking arm in arm with her guest. 
 
 "Your improvement has been wonderful, my dear. 
 Rushmore agrees with you, and that being the case, 
 you must not think of leaving it until the first of 
 February, when we all go," added her hostess, who 
 was walking behind with Emily. 
 
 "Oh, my dear Mrs. Jordon, you are very kind, and I 
 should like to stay so much; but for me to stay a fort- 
 night, when I only came to spend a week, I fear would 
 not do," said Lilith, laughing. 
 
 " 'Not do?' But it must do! It shall do! It will 
 do!" persisted the jolly lady. 
 
 Lilith's further objection was cut short. 
 
 A sound of wheels caught their attention. 
 
 "It is the carriage from the Cliffs, with Stephen on
 
 166 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 the box! What can that mean?" muttered Lilith, 
 with a vague presentiment of evil, as she dropped the 
 arm of Harriet and hurried on towards the house. 
 
 She reached it just as the carriage drew up before 
 the door and the negro coachman got down from the 
 box. 
 
 Her three friends came slowly up while she ques- 
 tioned the man. 
 
 "What is it, Stephen? What is the matter? Have 
 you come for me? Is anything wrong at the Cliffs?'' 
 she hastily inquired, on perceiving the man's troubled 
 looks. 
 
 "De marster is corned home, ma'am, an' ax for you 
 de firs' fing. He 'ribed airly dis mornin'. Took us all 
 by 'sprise. Scared po' Alick so dat he, po' 'flicted cree- 
 tur, run away in de woods 'hind de house, an' ain't 
 been seed since. An' de marster's ax for you, and we 
 telled him you was here." 
 
 "Mr. Hereward come home!" exclaimed Lilith, in a 
 joyous tone. "Then I must return immediately. I am 
 so glad he sent the carriage for me at once." 
 
 "An' po' Alick's 'mancipated de place," added 
 Stephen, lugubriously. 
 
 "Run away?" 
 
 "Yes, mist'ess; 'mancipated de place, as I telled yer 
 befo'." 
 
 "Well, he must be looked after and found. But 
 your master, Stephen how does he look? Is he quite 
 well? Did he send me any message by you?" inquired 
 Lilith. 
 
 "Young mist'ess, he sent no messidge at all. He 
 jus' say to me, he say 'Stephen, put de bay hosses to 
 de close carridge an' go to Rushmore an' bring your 
 mist'ess home immediate'." 
 
 "Is he is your master well?" inquired Lilith, in 
 some uneasiness at not having received either note or 
 message from her husband.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 167 
 
 "I doan know, young mist'ess. But he looks jus' as 
 w'ite as a sheet, and his lips pinch' tight togedder, an' 
 his eyes burnin' like two coals! 'Deed, I doan know 
 wot's de matter ob him, an' no mo' do Nancy! 'Pears 
 like he hadn't a word to t'row to a dog, 'cept to me 
 w'en he say 'Go to Rushmo' an' fetch yer mist'ess 
 home immediate'.' 'Deed he did, young mist'ess. An' 
 po' Alick, he didn't wait for de marster to speak to 
 him, but soon's ebber he cotch his eye on to de marster 
 he broke an' run like a har' fo' de houn's!" 
 
 "Stephen, let the horses stand for ten minutes, and 
 I will be ready to go back with you at the end of that 
 time," said Lilith. 
 
 Then turning to Mrs. Jordon, she explained: 
 
 "You see, dear friend, I must go home at once. I 
 am wanted there." 
 
 "Yes, love, I see. I am very sorry! I hope there is 
 nothing wrong at the Cliffs. I hope you will find Mr. 
 Hereward quite well," said her hostess. 
 
 "I hope so. I believe so. I am not usually appre- 
 hensive; but to-day there seems to be a darkness over 
 my spirit, like the shadow of approaching evil." 
 
 Lilith hurried into the house and up to her chamber, 
 followed by her hostess and the two girls. 
 
 With the ready help of the two last mentioned, she 
 packed her valise and put on her wraps. 
 
 Then she said good-bye to her friends, who accom- 
 panied her to the carriage door, and amid their kindest 
 wishes took her seat and drove off. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 "NOT EASILY JEALOUS" 
 
 WE must return to Tudor Hereward, and to the 
 moment when he first took Alick's fire-brand in his 
 hand.
 
 168 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 Looking at the post-mark, "Frosthill," and then at 
 the strange, scrawling handwriting of the superscrip- 
 tion, he muttered, with a deep sigh: 
 
 "Some constituent of my own immediate neighbor- 
 hood wants some Utopian good that it is not in my 
 power to give him." 
 
 Then he opened the letter and turned to the signa- 
 ture. 
 
 " 'Alick Turnbull.' What on earth can our butler 
 have to write to me about?" he questioned, as he 
 turned the page to read the letter, muttering com- 
 ments as he proceeded. 
 
 " 'Wanted home immediate.' . . . 'Young youth 
 been staying at the house ever since you have been 
 gone.' . . . 'Nobody to keep him company but 
 the young mistress.' . . . 'Please come home im- 
 mediate.' " 
 
 "What does the idiot mean?" questioned Hereward. 
 "A 'young youth' been staying at the Cliffs ever 
 since I left? Well, he must have been one of the stu- 
 dents at the Frosthill Institute out shooting part- 
 ridges, and being caught in the snow-storm that fol- 
 lowed my departure, took refuge at the Cliffs, where 
 he would feel at home, as my dear father had such a 
 craze for entertaining school-boys that he always had 
 one or more there on their half-holidays. 
 
 " 'Nobody to keep him company but the young mis- 
 tress?' Of course not! Who else should keep him 
 company, I'd like to know? for visitors can no more 
 get to the house than he can get away, and he is 
 thrown upon his hostess for society as well as for 
 shelter. Poor Lilith! I hope he makes himself agree- 
 able. School-boys are not the most delightful guests 
 in the world, particularly in stormy weather." 
 
 And he was about to drop the letter into the waste- 
 paper basket, and its subject into oblivion, when some
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 169 
 
 secondary impulse caused him to stay his hand, and 
 raise it for another reading. 
 
 Then he perceived a something which in his first 
 perusal had eluded his observation a certain subtle 
 innuendo of impropriety a suggestion of danger 
 underlying and running through all the simple facts 
 stated. 
 
 "What does the fellow mean?" he asked himself for 
 the third time, more gravely and anxiously than ever 
 before. "How dared he write me in this manner about 
 his mistress? I will teach him a lesson." 
 
 With these words Tudor Hereward held the letter 
 once more over the waste-paper basket with the inten- 
 tion of dropping it in, but speedily changed his mind 
 and threw it into the grate, where it instantly caught 
 fire and burned to ashes. That letter was not to be 
 left to the chance perusal of other eyes than his own. 
 
 Then he sat some time in troubled thought. 
 
 "Lilith is a child," he muttered to himself. "A mere 
 child in years and in ignorance of the world. I ought 
 not to have left her alone; though I thought I was 
 leaving her in perfect safety in the home of her child- 
 hood, attended by our old family servants; but, then, 
 I did not take into account the possibility of a snow- 
 bound student. And Lilith, in the very innocence of 
 ignorance, may have committed some harmless indis- 
 cretion, and drawn upon herself the animadversions 
 of these presuming old family servants. And for the 
 height of presumption and insolence commend me to 
 your faithful old family servants." 
 
 Tudor Hereward sank into profound thought that 
 lasted until the sudden outringing of all the church 
 bells aroused him. 
 
 Then he hastily made his toilet, and set out to at- 
 tend divine worship. 
 
 Before he returned to his hotel that day he had 
 made up his mind.
 
 170 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 Congress had adjourned until Wednesday. He 
 would have time to run down to the Cliffs to see his 
 wife, and he determined to do so. 
 
 At five minutes past twelve he was being whirled 
 westward, on his way to Frosthill. 
 
 He could not sleep on this ride as he had done on 
 the last one. The thought of Alick's letter troubled 
 him. And the more he thought of it the more it 
 troubled him. 
 
 The express train stopped at but few stations, but 
 at these some passengers got out and others got in. 
 
 So the night wore towards morning. 
 
 At seven o'clock in the gray of the winter morning 
 the train stopped at Eyrie Junction, about fifteen 
 miles from Frosthill. Here many passengers left the 
 train, leaving the car in which Mr. Hereward rode 
 empty but for him. 
 
 Two ladies got on, however, and took the seat imme- 
 diately in front of Tudor Hereward, although there 
 were plenty of others; but, then, this was nearest the 
 stove, and they had come in out of the wintry air. 
 
 Evidently, though they were acquaintances, they 
 had not come to the station together, but had met on 
 the platform, and as they settled themselves in their 
 places they were continuing a conversation com- 
 menced outside. 
 
 They seemed strangers to Mr. Hereward, and prob- 
 ably soon forgot his presence, as he sat out of their 
 eight behind them; and from the freedom with which 
 they talked they seemed to think themselves alone. 
 
 Tudor Hereward paid no sort of attention to their 
 talk, although it was carried on in a rather loud key, 
 until a name caught his ear. 
 
 "No, honey," said the elder and stouter of the two 
 women, "I haven't heard a word of all this story about 
 young Mrs. Hereward! I only heard about her sudden 
 marriage to the son at the death-bed of the father, and
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 171 
 
 of him the bridegroom I mean going back to Wash- 
 ington the day after the funeral, and leaving her all 
 alone with the colored servants at the Cliffs, which 
 certainly looked queer enough! But I never heard 
 anything worse than that! You see, honey, I left the 
 neighborhood just before the great storm came on, 
 and I have been weather-bound at Eyrie, where I have 
 been staying with my daughter; and so, of course, I 
 couldn't hear. But what is it, anyhow?" 
 
 "Well, it is this," said the younger and thinner 
 woman. "You know as he young Mr. Hereward 
 went away on the evening of the great storm, and just 
 before the storm came on." 
 
 "I should think I did, now, Marthy! I was on the 
 same train with him as far as Eyrie Junction, w r here 
 my daughter met me in her wagon." 
 
 "Yes, well, Mrs. Martin, it seems that the very next 
 day after he left, a young man, a Mr. Ancillon, that 
 belonged to the company of strolling players that were 
 here in the Christmas holidays, goes straight to the 
 Cliffs, and there he has been ever since! Now, what 
 do you think of that?" 
 
 "He went to the Cliffs the day after the master 
 left?" 
 
 "Yes; the very day after! Now, what do you think 
 of that?" 
 
 "Why, that was in the height of the great storm. I 
 suppose he got caught out in it, and went in there for 
 shelter, and got weather-bound, like a great mnny 
 other people in other places. That is what I think 
 about it." 
 
 "Well, you are very charitable; but you must agree 
 w r ith me that it is very, very queer for a strange young 
 man a strolling play-actor, too to go to a gentle- 
 man's house the very day after he has left it, and to 
 stay there alone with the young wife for more than a 
 week. Very queer, indeed."
 
 172 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "I don't see it, if he went there a traveler seeking 
 shelter from the storm and getting weather-bound," 
 said Mrs. Martin. 
 
 "But alone with the young wife. How about that?" 
 
 "He was not alone with her, Marthy. She had her 
 old servants with her. 
 
 "A passel of niggers. What were they? They didn't 
 sit in the parlor 'long of him and her, I reckon. They 
 couldn't see and hear all that passed between them 
 two. And I tell you what they did notice they didn't 
 approve of. At least one good, faithful servant didn't. 
 And that was their man Alick," said the younger 
 woman, mysteriously nodding her head. 
 
 "Now, Marthy Spanker, you don't mean to say that 
 Alick has been talking permiscuous about his mas- 
 ter's family? You don't say that?" 
 
 "No; but I tell you what I do say that that poor 
 faithful nigger was so horrified by what he noticed of 
 the goings on at the Cliffs between his young mistress 
 and her improper visitor, that he took it upon himself 
 to go to the post-office and get my nephew, Thomas 
 Tims, to write a letter for him to his master, begging 
 him to come home instantly instantly before worse 
 followed," said Miss Spanker, nodding her head more 
 wisely and meaningly than before. 
 
 "Did Tom Tims tell you all this?" 
 
 "Yes, he did. And not only me, but other people 
 besides." 
 
 "So Tom Tims is your only authority for all this 
 gossip. What a molehill to make a mountain of! 
 But the post-master's boy did not keep the contents 
 of the letter he wrote for the negro to himself, as he 
 ought to have done " 
 
 "I don't see why he should. It was no secret." 
 
 "Don't interrupt me, Marthy Spanker. I say Tom 
 Tims went blabbing about that letter all over the 
 neighborhood, even by your own showing. Yes, and,
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 173 
 
 no doubt, distorting and exaggerating everything in 
 it. Yes, and evil-minded people put this and that to- 
 gether, which had nothing to do with each other, and 
 made harm of it in a way they have." 
 "I don't understand you, Mrs. Martin." 
 "Oh, yes, you do." 
 
 "But I don't. What do you mean by 'putting this 
 and that together and making harm'?" 
 
 "I mean they connect the negro's asking his master 
 to come home with his mentioning the visit of the 
 weather-bound traveler, and making evil of it when 
 there was no evil, and no connection between the two 
 items. If the post-master's boy said there was, I be- 
 lieve he lied, and every one who has repeated the story 
 after him has lied, and very likely lied even more than 
 he did. You should not believe all the scandal you 
 hear, Marthy Spanker. Much less should you repeat 
 it." 
 
 "I should be very sorry to do that, Mrs. Martin, for 
 I did hear indeed, I did that the young strolling 
 player who is keeping company with Mrs. Hereward 
 at the Cliffs while her husband is away, is one of the 
 handsomest and most fascinating men that ever was 
 seen, even if he is no better than a tramp and a 
 vagrant." 
 
 "What in this world has the man's looks got to do 
 with it?" 
 
 "Oh, ho! I should think they had everything to do 
 with it! They do say, indeed they do! that her and 
 him were acquainted before she was married to Mr. 
 Tudor Hereward; and that they met at some of them 
 outlandish places where old Mr. Hereward used to 
 take her in the summer, and him and her I mean the 
 play-actor and Miss Wyvil, as she was then got cap- 
 tivated with each other there." 
 
 "Oh, what wicked lies!" exclaimed Mrs. Martin.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Lies or no, I can't tell! But they do say, indeed 
 they do, that that was the reason why he brought his 
 company down here, just to see her. For you know the 
 company is his. The great Plantagenet and Montmor- 
 encie Combination is all humbug. He is the Plantage- 
 net and Montmorencie, too, as well as Ancillon! And 
 he brought the whole company down here just for the 
 sake of seeing her. Not that he expected to make 
 much money out'n our little village." 
 
 "But he did make money, though! He had crowds 
 every day and night." 
 
 "Well, that's neither here nor there. It happened, 
 you know, that young Mrs. Hereward didn't go to see 
 any of the performances. She couldn't, you know. 
 The old man had just died, and was buried that same 
 week. So she couldn't get out, and he didn't see her. 
 But they do say indeed, Mrs. Martin, they do that 
 he was so disappointed that, when Saturday night 
 came, he sent his whole company on alone to Staunton, 
 and he stayed behind on purpose to see her. And 
 that when he heard Mr. Hereward had gone off to 
 Washington and left her alone at the Cliffs, he went 
 there to see her. And there he has been ever since. 
 And the honest, faithful servants were all mortified 
 and distressed almost to death, till one of them took 
 courage to write to his master and beg him to come 
 home before something awful should happen a run- 
 away match or something! Now, what have you to 
 say to that, Mrs. Martin?" triumphantly demanded 
 Miss Spanker. 
 
 "Honey, them's lies." 
 
 "But they say it is the truth!" 
 
 "Who are 'they'?" 
 
 "Everybody." 
 
 "Everybody means nobody! All lies, Marthy 
 Spanker, from first to last! And I advise you not to 
 be a-repeating of them; I do so, for your own good.''
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 175 
 
 "I don't vouch for nothing! Him and her may be 
 saints and angels, for all I know to the contrary. I 
 only tell what I hear but I have my own thoughts," 
 said Miss Spanker. 
 
 "All a passel of lies! Old Man Tudor Hereward was 
 too choice of his adopted daughter to 'low her to pick 
 up improper acquaintances, away from home. And 
 the young lady herself was too modest and dainty 
 to have done so, whether or no ! So she couldn't have 
 had any knowledge of this stranger that went to her 
 house for shelter from the storm." 
 
 "Now I don't know about that, Mrs. Martin." 
 
 "Don't know about what?" 
 
 "About what she knew and what she didn't. And 
 no more do you, if it comes to that! No one, as far as 
 I can hear, does know much about young Mrs. Here- 
 ward! All we do know is, that she was a foundling 
 child, or something of that sort, as was adopted and 
 brought up by old Major Hereward as she could turn 
 round and round her fingers as she liked! because he 
 just doted on her! You don't know anything about 
 her parents, nor what low vices she has taken from 
 them, so why need you be surprised at anything she 
 does or you hear?" 
 
 "I am not surprised at anything young Mrs. Here- 
 ward does; because all she does is good and true like 
 herself. But I am surprised, and, moreover, I am 
 shocked at what I hear you say of that lady! And I 
 warn you to be careful, or you will get yourself and 
 your father into serious trouble!" 
 
 "No I won't, for I only repeat what I hear! And I 
 have heard worse than I have told you yet! I have 
 heard, indeed I have " 
 
 "I don't want to hear any more lies, Marthy 
 Spanker! And, moreover, I won't! Thank the Lord, 
 here we are almost at Frosthill !" exclaimed Mrs. Mar- 
 tin, beginning to gather up her baskets and bags, as
 
 176 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 the train "slowed" towards the lighted station; for 
 though the eastern horizon was red with the coming 
 day, the lamps would not be extinguished until the 
 sun should rise. 
 
 Tudor Hereward, who had felt the greatest diffi- 
 culty in restraining himself during the exasperating 
 discussion between his tw T o fellow-passengers, now 
 bent forward and addressed Miss Spanker: 
 
 "Madam, I beg pardon. I have not the advantage of 
 knowing your name. Mine is Tudor Hereward. I have 
 been an involuntary hearer of your discussion, and I 
 have the privilege to inform you that with the sole 
 exception of the fact of my marriage there is not one 
 syllable of truth in all that you have uttered. I can- 
 not, of course, call a woman to account for her 
 slanders, however base and false they may have been; 
 but I shall be glad to know, and shall take speedy 
 measures to learn the name and address of father, 
 brother, or husband, or any other man who may be 
 held responsible for the slanders you have uttered in 
 my hearing," concluded Mr. Hereward, as he resumed 
 his seat. 
 
 The effect of this speech was rather stunning, not 
 to say annihilating. 
 
 After the first start with which the two women had 
 received the announcement of Mr. Hereward's name 
 by his own voice, and had realized that he had over- 
 heard every word of their compromising conversation, 
 they remained panic-stricken until he had ceased to 
 speak and had sunk back in his seat. 
 
 Mrs. Martin was the first to recover herself. 
 
 "I warned you that you would get into trouble," she 
 said, as she arose in her place, well laden with bag, 
 l>asket, bandbox and bundle. 
 
 "I won't have anything to do with it. I don't know 
 nothing about it! I only say what I hear! Nobody 
 can't do nothing to me for saying that!" exclaimed
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 177 
 
 Miss Spanker, in a frightened, yet defiant tone, as she 
 grabbed her valise and made for the door of the car. 
 
 The train had stopped and three passengers for 
 Frosthill got off there. 
 
 Miss Spanker was met b}' a rough-looking, middle- 
 aged man, whom she called "father," and with whom 
 she hurried away as fast as she could walk and make 
 him walk. 
 
 The train steamed on its way westward, leaving Mr. 
 Hereward and Mrs. Martin standing on the platform. 
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 "PERPLEXED IN THE EXTREME" 
 
 THERE was not a carriage of any sort at the station. 
 There seldom was at that hour. And the Cloud- 
 Capped Cliffs was six miles off, on a very rough road. 
 
 Mr. Hereward called a man who seemed to be loun- 
 ging about waiting for a job, and gave him a dollar to 
 go to the Frosthill Hotel and fetch him a carriage. 
 
 When the man was about to start on his errand,. 
 Tudor turned to his fellow-passenger and inquired: 
 
 "Can he take a message for you anywhere?" 
 
 "Oh, dear, no, thank you, Mr. Hereward. I expect 
 Job here with the buggy to meet me." 
 
 Tudor lifted his hat and stepped back. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Hereward, you don't seem to know me!" 
 she said, in a tone that brought him again to her side. 
 
 "I am afraid that I have not that honor." 
 
 "Oh, yes, you have if it is an honor!" laughed the 
 matron. "You know Mrs. Martin, who keeps the mil- 
 linery and mantua-making department at Martin's 
 Bazaar at Frosthill?" 
 
 "Oh! why, of course I do! I am glad to see you, 
 Mrs. Martin," said Tudor Hereward.
 
 178 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "But you know my husband, poor old Job, better 
 than me! Why, he was one of the most active men in 
 the campaign that elected you! He was chairman of 
 the Frosthill Central Committee, you know!" 
 
 "Of course I know how zealous and active Mr. Mar- 
 tin was, and how greatly our party is indebted to him, 
 personally," replied Mr. Hereward. 
 
 "Ah! what a campaign that was, Mr. Hereward! I 
 am sure poor old Job bellowed himself into an incur- 
 able bronchitis, hurrahing for Hereward and the 
 whole ticket. What we did was done for love of old 
 neighborhood, Mr. Hereward!" 
 
 "I do believe it. And I thank you most deeply," 
 replied the young statesman; and on this occasion he 
 spoke sincerely. 
 
 It was so refreshing to meet with an ardent partisan 
 who was not an officer-seeker. 
 
 "And now I want to beg you, Mr. Hereward, not to 
 mind, not to pay any more attention to what that 
 poor fool, Marthy Spanker, said in the cars this morn- 
 ing. Her tongue is no scandal. Everybody knows 
 that. You will not mind it, will you?" 
 
 "We will not discuss this subject, if you please, Mrs. 
 Martin," replied Tudor Hereward, as his face grew 
 dark again with passion. 
 
 "No, of course not," assented Mrs. Martin; "but I 
 want you please to understand that I, at least, had 
 nothing to do with the matter but to defend Mrs. 
 Hereward. You know that I did defend her, don't 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes, I do know it, and I thank you for the kindest 
 intentions; but at the same time I must assure you 
 that Mrs. Hereward did not in the least require de- 
 fence. But we will not continue the subject, if you 
 please." 
 
 "Certainly not. And I warned Marthy Spanker that 
 she was letting her tongue run before her wit, and that
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 179 
 
 it would cut off her head some of these days least- 
 ways that she would get herself and her father into 
 trouble if she wasn't careful. She has got a father,, 
 Mr. Hereward Old Nick Spanker. And if you must 
 pitch into anybody, pitch into him! He stumped for 
 the other ticket, and called you a bloated aristocrat, 
 and my poor, innocent old Job, who never handled 
 a gun in his life, and never rebelled even against me 
 or the children, an ex-rebel guerrilla! Yes, he did! 
 He abused you; and his daughter slanders your wife." 
 
 "Mrs. Martin, this subject must drop here and now! 
 I credit you and I thank you for the best intentions 
 towards me and mine. But here and now this subject 
 must be dropped and dropped forever!" said Tudor 
 Hereward, sternly, though politely. 
 
 "All right, Mr. Hereward, it is unprofitable! And 
 here comes Old Job Old Job with his old horse and 
 buggy. Now, does he look like an ex-guerrilla? Well, 
 good-bye, Mr. Hereward. We'll make you a senator 
 next time!" said the jolly dame, as she hurried off to 
 meet her husband, who pulled up his horse and held 
 out his hand to help her. 
 
 She threw bag, basket, bandbox and bundle into the 
 bottom of the buggy, then stepped up into the seat 
 beside him, took the reins from his hands, and drove 
 off. 
 
 A moment later the carriage from the Frosthill 
 Hotel drew up, and Mr. Hereward entered it and gave 
 the order to drive to Cloud-Capped Cliffs. 
 
 As the carriage started, the wintry sun rose. 
 
 Tudor Hereward had only by the very strongest 
 effort maintained his self-control while in the presence 
 of others. But his soul was filled with rage and 
 shame. Never before in ifce whole course of his 
 domestic history had any woman of his family been 
 touched by the faintest breath of slander. 
 
 Probably, if any man had so slandered his wife.
 
 180 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 Tudor Hereward would have broken the law that he 
 was bound to defend, and have slain the slanderer on 
 the spot and incurred the dishonor of a public trial, 
 if no worse. 
 
 But what can a gentleman do with a poor, ignorant, 
 gossiping woman, however malicious and venomous 
 her tongue may be? If the slanderer had been a man, 
 Tudor Hereward could have punished his offence 
 fatally in his person, or, if a rich woman, heavily in 
 her purse, and given the amount of damages in 
 charity. 
 
 And then his thoughts turned upon Alick, the med- 
 dler, the mischief-maker, the incendiary, who had 
 dared to get that letter written about his young mis- 
 tress which had started all this fire of slander, this 
 burning and consuming shame! 
 
 And he mentally promised that faithful old family 
 servant and emancipated freedman such a horsewhip- 
 ping as he never had dreamed of in the old slave 
 days. 
 
 And then he thought of Lilith. 
 
 What had the simple child been doing to draw upon 
 herself the blame of these brutes? 
 
 A strolling player had taken shelter from the sform 
 at the Cliffs and had then become weather-bound there 
 for days. 
 
 Not a desirable inmate, but an inevitable one under 
 the circumstances. He was reported to be young and 
 good-looking. He was also, probably, witty and enter- 
 taining, as almost all Bohemians are. He made him- 
 self as agreeable as possible to his hostess. Perhaps 
 read to her. Most likely recited for her soliloquies 
 from Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet, and so on. 
 
 "I can well imagine such scenes would be described 
 by the ignorant negroes as 'carryings on.' Perhaps 
 they played snowball together!" he reflected.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 181 
 
 And finally his thoughts came and sat in judgment 
 on HIMSELF. 
 
 "I am the first offender and the most of all to blame! 
 I should not have left her. She did not wish to stay 
 behind, poor little girl! She wanted to come with me, 
 and I ought to have taken her! It would not have 
 been more lonely for her, even in my den in Washing- 
 ton than it is in the old manor-house. However, I 
 will remedy the evil as far as I may! I will take her 
 with me when I return to Washington." 
 
 So absorbed was Tudor Hereward in these thoughts, 
 that the distance between Frosthill and the Cliffs was 
 passed over, and the carriage was rolling up the 
 avenue towards the house, before he was well aware of 
 the fact. 
 
 The front of the mansion was still closed; but as the 
 carriage drew up before the door, he saw the very man 
 whom he wished first to see. He was wandering about 
 the grounds with a load of brush in his arms, in a 
 distracted sort of a way, as if he had forgotten where 
 to take it. 
 
 Mr. Hereward let down the window and called out: 
 
 "Alick! Alick! Come here! I want to speak to 
 you!" 
 
 The effect of this summons was startling on the man 
 summoned. 
 
 He stopped at the sound of the voice, looked around 
 in a dazed and frightened manner, caught sight of his 
 master's pale and angry face, dropped his load of 
 brush, and with a howl of despair, fled for the covert 
 of the woods behind the house. 
 
 "The guilty wretch is conscience-stricken and ex- 
 pects retribution," said Mr. Hereward to himself, as 
 he took up his valise, opened the carriage door and 
 alighted. 
 
 He paused for a moment to pay the driver, and then 
 he went up to the front entrance of the house.
 
 182 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 But before he could knock, the door was opened by 
 Steve, who had heard the sound of the carriage 
 wheels, and who at the sight of his master fairly 
 laughed for joy. 
 
 "Oh, oh, Marse Tudor! Is it you, sah? Wot a 
 Rightful s'prise! But I's moughty proud to see you, 
 fin' will us all be!" he cried, grinning from ear to ear 
 as he opened wide the door. "But, my Lor' A'mighty, 
 Marse Tudor! Wot is de matter wid yer, sah? Is yer 
 corned home ill? Lor'-a-massy, yer's as white as a 
 sheet!" exclaimed the negro, in dismay, as the strong 
 lights revealed the pale, stern face of the returned 
 master. 
 
 "Nothing! Nothing but want of rest," hastily re- 
 plied Mr. Hereward "rest of body, mind and spirit," 
 he mentally added. 
 
 "Den yer must hab it, sah! Dat's sure! Mus' stay 
 'long ob us, an' lib on game, an' keep airly hours till 
 yer get well and strong ag'in. We'll set yer up, sah!" 
 
 "Thank you, my good fellow! How are all here?" 
 
 "All is moughty well, t'ank de Lord, sah! An' all 
 will be proud to see you!" replied Steve, as he opened 
 the parlor door and stood aside with a sweeping bow 
 to let his master enter the room. 
 
 "I do not think Alick looked very well, or was very 
 glad to see me. He took to his heels at the sight of 
 me," said Mr. Hereward, as he stood beside the newly 
 kindled fire in the open chimney of the little parlor. 
 I "Oh, po' Alick! Doan yer min' him, marster, please ! 
 Po' Alick is 'flicted!" 
 
 " 'Flicted?" questioned the master, in perplexity. 
 " 'Flicted?" 
 
 " 'Flicted inter his lunacies. Yes, sah. 'Deed he is. 
 Po' Alick." 
 
 "Do you mean that the man has gone crazy? He 
 looked so." 
 
 "Yes, young marster, dat's jest whey it is. C'azy.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 183 
 
 Po' Alick done los' his head. Po' Alick ain't had no 
 head for for a week or mo', I reckon. 'Deed it's 
 de trufe." 
 
 "How is your mistress? Is she up?" inquired Mr. 
 Hereward, suddenly changing the subject. 
 
 "De young madam ain't home, Marse Tudor." 
 
 "Not home!" exclaimed Mr. Hereward, while a 
 fierce doubt, which he was ashamed to feel, pierced 
 his heart. 
 
 "Well, no, sah; not home, I's sorry to say, 'long as 
 yer've come back." 
 
 "WHERE is SHE, THEN?" 
 
 "Lor'-a-mighty, Marse Tudor! She ain't in de grabe- 
 yard, sah. She's all right, de young madam is," re- 
 plied the negro, startled and frightened at the look 
 and tone with which the young man asked this ques- 
 tion. 
 
 "I asked you WHERE?" 
 
 "She's ober to Rushmo', 'long ob Mist'ess Jab Jor- 
 don an' de Miss Mileses. She been dere a week to-day. 
 De ladies come o' las' Monday mornin' an' spent de 
 day 'long ob her, an' seein' how lonesome an' low de 
 young madam was, dey 'suaded ob her to go home 
 'long o' dem fo' a week, an' we dem colored people 
 was powerful glad to hab de madam go 'way an' 'joy 
 herse'f wid de oder young ladies, 'cause she hab been 
 awful lonesome yere by her lone se'f ." 
 
 During this explanation Tudor Hereward had time 
 to recover himself, and at its close he put a leading 
 question: 
 
 "What! Has your mistress been so very lonesome? 
 Has no one come to see her?" 
 
 "Hi, Marse Tudor! How anybody gwine to get to 
 de house t'rough all dat big snowstorm and de blocked 
 up yoads? Nobody could come, nor likewise go, fo' 
 mo' dan a week. Soon's ebber dey could come Mist'ess 
 Jab Jordon an' de young ladies come firs', w'ich I tor
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 yer, an' toted off de young madam. An' den de neigh- 
 bors come fas' enough, but de young madam she 
 wa'n't yere to 'ceive 'em." 
 
 "Oh! who were they?" 
 
 "Dere was Dr. Kerr an' his famberly, an' Parson 
 Cave an' his famberly, an' dere was " 
 
 "That will do," interrupted the master. 
 
 "Well/ sah, mos' all de neighbors come 'fo' de week 
 was out, but ob course dey didn't see de young madam, 
 w'ich was at Rushmo'," concluded Steve, not to be 
 cut short in his narrative. 
 
 "And no one came during the bad weather?" 
 
 "No, sah, no one; dat is, no neighbors, sah. No one 
 ob no 'count. No one worf mentionin'. Dere was a 
 young man come de ebenin' arter yer lef, sah! But he 
 doan count for nuffin' caze he war a stranger an' a 
 trabeler, druv in by de storm, w'ich neider man nor 
 beast could 'a' libbed if dey stayed out in it, yer know, 
 sah! So no fanks to him fo' comin'! 'Twa'nt fo' any 
 lub ob us he come, but 'caze he was 'pelled by the 
 storm." 
 
 "Who was he? What was his name?" 
 
 "Well, marster, 'pears he was one ob dem player- 
 acterin' people wot were yere at de C'ris'mas holidays, 
 an' his name were Answer-long, w'ich were a funny 
 name!" 
 
 Time and reflection had calmed all his disquietude, 
 and he stood waiting for his young wife's return with- 
 out a sign of that mental and bodily weariness and 
 illness which, on his first arrival, had alarmed his serv- 
 ants. He was no longer "white as a sheet," as they 
 had described him. 
 
 He was not sure whether he should even ask Lilith 
 about her visitor. He would wait to see whether she 
 herself should mention him. 
 
 It was high noon when at length the carriage, bring-
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 185 
 
 ing Lilith home, turned into the avenue leading up to 
 the house. 
 
 Tudor Hereward stepped down from the porch to 
 receive her. 
 
 As soon as the carriage drew up before the house, 
 it was Lilith's own eager hand that opened the door 
 before any one could do it for her, and she sprang out, 
 her lovely young face beaming with such delight that, 
 whatever else Hereward might doubt, he could not 
 doubt her intense pleasure at seeing him again. 
 
 Yet his reception of her was rather playful than 
 affectionate. 
 
 "Well, my little lady-love," he said, as he took her 
 in his arms and kissed her, "have I taken you very 
 much by surprise?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, Tudor! But it is such a happy surprise. 
 How I wish I had been home when you arrived! I am 
 so glad you sent for me at once!" she said, as they 
 went up into the house together. 
 
 "You are looking well, dear," he said, when she had 
 laid off her bonnet and dolman and was seated by him 
 near the parlor fire. 
 
 "Oh! I am always well." 
 
 "Yes, I know. But how have you borne the solitude 
 of this place? It has been very lonely for you." 
 
 "Yes," said Lilith, hesitating and changing color 
 ""but at first I mean it was very lonely at first." 
 
 He was watching her, and he saw her confusion. 
 
 "At first you were very lonely. And afterwards, 
 Lilith?" 
 
 "Mrs. Jordon came with her daughters and spent 
 the day, and took me away to stay a week with them. 
 Was I wrong to go away for a week, Tudor?" 
 
 "No, dear, why should you think so?" 
 
 "I don't know. Mrs. Jordon said it was right that I 
 should go; and I knew the house could be safely left
 
 186 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 in charge of Nancy, as it has been left on many 
 occasions." 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "And everybody has been so good to me, Tudor. 
 Dr. Kerr and Mrs. Kerr, and Mr. Cave and the Misses 
 Cave have called though it was while I was at Rush- 
 more and when we met them all at the church yes- 
 terday they all invited me to come and stay a week at 
 their houses; and indeed there was quite an emula- 
 tion between them as to who should have me first. It 
 was so very good in them!" exclaimed Lilith, warmly. 
 
 "It was kind and neighborly," said Mr. Hereward. 
 But he noticed that she had not alluded to the visit of 
 the stranger who had stayed a week at the house. 
 Was it, he asked himself, that she considered the 
 visitor too insignificant to be thought of or spoken of, 
 or was she afraid to speak of him? Tudor HerewarJ 
 could not answer his own question. He resolved to 
 wait and watch. He was again disturbed, and again 
 ashamed of his disturbance. 
 
 "Are you really so glad to see me, Lilith?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 " 'Glad?' Oh!" she said, looking up at him with a 
 face so radiant with truth and joy that he could not 
 doubt her. 
 
 "Yet I wonder why she does not speak of that 
 strange visitor, and why she hesitated and faltered 
 when first I asked if she had been very lonely," he 
 thought to himself. 
 
 "Well, my dear, since you are so glad to see me, 
 will you be glad to go back with me to Washington? 
 For you understand, of course, that this is but a fly- 
 ing visit home. Will you return with me to the city?" 
 
 Her face of rapture was a picture to see. 
 
 "Return with you? Oh! yes, indeed, if you will have 
 me," she said, with delight in every tone of her voice.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 187 
 
 "She is a perfect child," lie thought, as his doubts 
 vanished. 
 
 "Very well, little lady-love. But I am afraid you 
 will find life very dull there with me very differ- 
 ent from the gay lives of other ladies who accompany 
 their husbands to the national capital." 
 
 "Oh, no, no, Tudor. You know we could not be gay; 
 but I should never think life dull with you," she an- 
 swered, warmly. 
 
 "But, my dear, I am away every day, all day long, 
 and often late at night, at the Capitol either in my 
 seat in the Hall of Representatives or serving on some 
 committee, or " 
 
 " But I should see you every night, Tudor, even if it 
 should be late; and that would be happiness compared 
 to this recent separation." 
 
 "Yes, love, you would see me at night bending over 
 my writing-desk, where the dawn has often found me." 
 
 "Oh, Tudor! Do you really have to work so hard? 
 I must try to help you." 
 
 "You help me! Ha, ha, ha!" 
 
 "You are laughing at me," she said, with perfect 
 good humor; "but indeed I could help you. I could 
 lighten your labors very much." 
 
 "What could you do, my little lady-love?" he in- 
 quired, laying his hand patronizingly on her small, 
 black, curly-haired head. "What could you do?" 
 
 "All that a private secretary could do for you." 
 
 Hereward started slightly, and looked wistfully into 
 her face. 
 
 "Have you any idea of the duties of a private secre- 
 tary, Lilith?" 
 
 "More than any young person could have who enters 
 upon those duties for the first time," she answered, 
 simply. 
 
 "Indeed! Well, what are they? What could you 
 do?"
 
 188 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "I could read and answer letters, hunt out the au- 
 thors you wish to consult, mark and copy the extracts 
 you wish to use, sometimes translate, if desirable, 
 write to your dictation, or copy in a clear, legible hand 
 your hastily written, interlined and blotted manu- 
 script. Of course I could do all that, Tudor; and oh! 
 I should be so glad so very glad to help you! I, 
 who have nothing at all else to do, and feel ashamed 
 of my own idleness and worthlessness." 
 
 "Lilith! You surprise me! Where did you acquire 
 that much knowledge of what might be expected of 
 a private secretary?" 
 
 "Why, by helping our dear father. Don't you know 
 he used to occupy himself during the long winter 
 evenings by writing a great deal for the papers?" 
 
 "Would it be discreet to inquire now with how 
 many foreign languages you are conversant?" de- 
 manded Hereward, with good-humored irony. 
 
 "Conversant with but three Latin, French and 
 German. For those three I took the highest honors 
 at Vassar. Then, with the aid of grammar and dic- 
 tionary, I can translate Spanish and Italian." 
 
 "Ah! and so you helped my father in his literary 
 work in this manner?" 
 
 "Oh, yes! And sometimes I wrote at his dictation. 
 And at other times I made fair, legible copies of his 
 articles, which in their first draft were always fright- 
 fully blotted and interlined. Yes, so we used to pass 
 winter evenings, and tempestuous days when we could 
 not get outdoors. Oh! you do not know what chums 
 father and I were! We were co-laborers in working 
 hours and play-mates in play-time!" 
 
 "I seem to know little or nothing of all this. You 
 must miss him very much," said Hereward, gravely. 
 
 "No, I do not," replied Lilith, seriously. 
 
 "What! How is that? You were very fond of 
 him."
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 189 
 
 "I was very fond of him." 
 
 "And yet you do not miss him?" 
 
 "No, strange as it seems, I do not miss him. I can- 
 not explain it even to myself; but I do not seem to 
 have lost him; he seems to be still in the house; every- 
 where about; a sense of his presence is constantly 
 with me; that is the reason why I never miss him! 
 Yes, you may well stare at me; for I wonder at myself 
 and at the comfort and satisfaction this feeling of his 
 presence gives me." 
 
 "The united effect of memory and imagination, my 
 dear; but I will not object to it, since it pleases yon. 
 And so you think, little lady mine, that you could help 
 me in the same way in which you used to help my 
 father?" 
 
 "I am sure I could, Tudor! And oh! how I wish you 
 would let me try! It is the work I should like best of 
 all to do, because I should be with you, helping you. 
 And it is the work I can best do, because I have been 
 used to it, you know!" 
 
 "I 'know'! It seems to me that I know very little of 
 you, my lady, except what I daily discover, or what 
 you choose to tell me! I asked you just now whether 
 you had any idea of the duties of a private secretary; 
 and you answered satisfactorily and gave an instance, 
 if not a 'reference.' I now ask you, my little love, 
 whether you have any idea what a great relief your 
 help would be to my over-burdened hours if you could 
 do one-quarter even of what you propose?" 
 
 "Oh, Tudor! You make me so glad when you say 
 that ! Yes, indeed, I can do all that I have proposed to 
 do, and much more. Try me! Only try me! I shall 
 be so diligent! so careful! I know you do think that I 
 am too young, and perhaps too foolish to do much 
 good; but I am seventeen now, and in two years I shall 
 be nineteen, and older and older every year! And even 
 now I am not half so much of a child as I seem to be!
 
 190 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 I have always been the companion of our dear father, 
 and he did not think me so childish, you know!" 
 
 "I repeat that I know very little of you, my darling, 
 except what I am now to discover," said Hereward, 
 with more tenderness than he had yet shown towards 
 her. 
 
 "Oh, then, find me out, Tudor! Prove how useful I 
 can be to you! I do so long to be useful! I do so 
 despair at being idle and worthless!" 
 
 "And yet this work that you propose does not ap- 
 pear to be a woman's work," objected Hereward. 
 
 "Not always! Not often, perhaps! Not when 
 women have large households to look after! But in 
 my case it is different. What home duties should 1 
 have, living with you in a room at a hotel? To take 
 the best care of your wardrobe and my own need not 
 occupy half an hour a week! Will you take me for 
 jour private secretary or for office boy, Mr. Hereward? 
 Shall I make my application out in writing to show 
 whether I can write legibly and grammatically? I 
 will do so!" she said, with a gay little laugh, as she 
 went and sat down to the writing table, drew a sheet 
 of paper towards her and began to work. 
 
 Soon she arose with a bow, and handed him a folded 
 paper, which he opened with a smile, and read: 
 
 CLOUD-CAPPED CLIFFS, Jan. 23, 18 . 
 To THE HON. TDDOR HEREWARD, House of Repr?ien- 
 tatives, Washington, D. C. Sir: I have the honc^ to 
 solicit an appointment as your private secretary. For 
 my character and competence, I beg leave to refer you 
 to the Rev. Mr. Cave, Rector of St. Luke's, and Dr. 
 Kerr, both of Frosthill. Very respectfully, your 
 obedient servant, ELIZABETH W. HEREWARD. 
 
 "I shall keep this as a family curiosity," said Here- 
 ward, as he put the lette* into his pocket.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 191 
 
 "Oh, you may laugh, sir! But that is just exactly 
 the sort of letter that I should have written to 'some 
 person or persons unknown,' had I not had the greater 
 honor of becoming your wife," she said, with a grave 
 little nod of her curly black head. 
 
 Hereward gazed on her with feelings of admiration 
 and tenderness. He felt his heart drawn towards her 
 as it had never been drawn before. He sat down 
 beside her, put his arms around her, took her little 
 bowed head upon his bosom and whispered, gently: 
 
 "You shall be your husband's private secretary, my 
 accomplished little wife! Ah, I did not know half 
 what a treasure my father was giving me, when he 
 gave me you! Look up, Lilith! Let me see your sweet 
 face. Look up and tell me how long it will take you 
 to get ready to accompany me to Washington?" 
 
 "It will not take me an hour to pack up. You know, 
 being in mourning, I have so few things to take. When 
 do you wish to go, Tudor?" she inquired, gradually re- 
 covering herself. 
 
 "This is Monday. We must leave here to-morrow 
 morning, for I must be at my post on Wednesday." 
 
 "Oh, I shall be quite ready. There is Steve waiting 
 to speak to you." 
 
 The negro man stood in the door, respectfully 
 waiting. 
 
 "What is it, Steve?" 
 
 "De oberseer, sah, hearin' as yer'd 'rove at home, 
 wish in' to see yer." 
 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 "In de dinin'-room, sah." 
 
 "Very well. I will go to him," said Hereward, 
 rising and leaving the parlor. 
 
 Lilith then went upstairs to her own chamber, 
 which she found in perfect order, with a fine fire burn- 
 ing in the open chimney, and Nancy in dutiful at- 
 tendance.
 
 192 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 " 'Deed, Lor' knows I moughty glad to see yer back 
 ag'in, Miss Lilif, 'deed is I. An' yer look so well an' 
 happy, too! Better'n I ebber see yer look since ole 
 marse went to glory," was Nancy's salutation. 
 
 "Thank you, Nancy. I enjoyed my visit very muck, 
 indeed, but I am glad to get home to you again." 
 
 "Dat's you, Miss Lilif. Yer allers was 'tach' to ole 
 Nancy. Wen yer was a baby yer nebber would go to 
 no one else f'om me, 'cept it was ole marse." 
 
 "But, Nancy, I am going to Jeave you again soon. I 
 am going to Washington with Mr. Hereward." 
 
 "Yes, I 'spicioned dat; and dat's all right, too. Ef 1 
 was yer own born mammy I couldn't 'plain ob dat. 
 'Deed, I fink yer ought to goed w'en young marse firs' 
 went hisse'f." 
 
 "Yes, Nancy, dear, but we haven't got time to talk. 
 We must entertain the master as a distinguished guest 
 to-day, for to-morrow morning we leave for Wash- 
 ington," said Lilith. 
 
 And then the little mistress and her housekeeper 
 went into consultation on dinner and other household 
 matters. 
 
 Meanwhile, Tudor Hereward, having finished the 
 short interview with his overseer, took a solitary stroll 
 over the plantation to commune with his own 
 thoughts. He was studying Lilith the child whom 
 fit his dying father's petition he had married in the 
 ?me mood of recklessness and desperation in which, 
 nd he been an irreligious man, he might have com- 
 mitted suicide. He had considered his marriage a 
 most grievous burden all the more oppressive be- 
 cause he was resolved to do his duty as faithfully 
 and conscientiously by his child-wife as if she had 
 been the brilliant woman of the world whom he had 
 dreamed of as his proper companion. 
 
 Now he thought of all that she desired, claimed and
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 193 
 
 petitioned to be to him his wife, companion and co- 
 laborer through all his career. 
 
 Why, this was more than he had ever dreamed of 
 in his ideal "brilliant woman of the world." 
 
 But could she, that little Lilith of seventeen years, 
 with the form of a child and the face of a baby, be all 
 of that to him ? No, no ; impossible. She was a lovely 
 little being, and in her presence he was fond of her, 
 but it was the fondness of a man for a winning child 
 or a kitten. She could never be the intimate, sympa- 
 thetic companion of his intellectual, aspiring life. 
 
 True, she had graduated with honors when she was 
 but sixteen years of age from one of the most distin- 
 guished colleges for young ladies, and she had helped 
 her foster-father in his literary labors during the last 
 years of his life. 
 
 But all that proved no intellectual superiority. A 
 good memory, a medium understanding and industry 
 were all that was required for such achievements. 
 
 She was his wife; she might be his assistant; but 
 could she be his true mate, his second self, one with 
 him in heart and mind? Ah! no; it was not in her to 
 be such! 
 
 She loved him, indeed. He knew and felt that she 
 did. But she loved him exactly as she had loved his 
 father; only a little less, perhaps. Not with the love 
 that he wanted from the woman who was to share his 
 life and make his home and his happiness. No, nor 
 could he give her the love that he could have given to 
 such a woman. He could only be fond of her while 
 he saw her! Yes, there was one thing more that he 
 could and would be. He could be faithful to her, and 
 absolutely and utterly faithful he determined to be. 
 
 And to make a beginning in this direction, he re- 
 solved to tell her all the story of his disappointment in 
 the case of Miss Von Kirschberg, or Madame Bruyin. 
 
 "Poor little one! Poor, little, loving, devoted child!
 
 194 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 What a perfect wife she would have made to a man 
 suited to her years and mental calibre! Bah!" he 
 exclaimed, with a sudden dog-in-the-manger jealousy. 
 "There is no such man. And I will love her as well as 
 I can, if she is only a lovely, little, bright school-girl." 
 
 So saying, Tudor Hereward turned his face home- 
 ward. 
 
 Dinner was ready, and Lilith who had changed her 
 dress and put a white camelia in her dark hair 
 looked prettier than ever, as she presided at the table. 
 
 That evening, after tea, as the newly married pair 
 sat by the pleasant wood fire of their little parlor, 
 Tudor Hereward told Lilith the whole story of his 
 first love and his bitter disappointment. 
 
 She listened in silent sympathy, until, at the end of 
 the narration, he put his arm around her waist, drew 
 her head down on his bosom and whispered: 
 
 "Now, Lilith, my little one, I felt that it was due to 
 my wife to tell her all this to have no secret from her 
 who is to be my consort through life. And now that I 
 have told you all this, my sweet one, I will dismiss the 
 whole subject from my thoughts forever, as I hope 
 that you will be able to do; for, darling, your own 
 true heart is worth all the brilliant counterfeits in 
 the world." 
 
 "Oh, Tudor, Tudor! I feel so much, I do not know 
 what to say to you, but this I hope you will let me 
 try to be all to you that you dreamed the finer woman 
 would have been. Only give me the opportunity. See, 
 I am your own. Heaven and your father gave me to 
 you, and if all my life's devotion can make up to you 
 for your life's disappointment, indeed you have it!" 
 she said, in her fervor of sympathy and affection, 
 speaking with a freedom at which she blushed. 
 
 "Do not say so, dear love. I do not deserve that 
 you should. No, Heaven knows that I do not," he 
 sighed, as he stooped and kissed her.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 195 
 
 Then he lighted a cigar and went out on the porch. 
 
 When he had left the room a change came over the 
 pretty, childish face a change that transformed it to 
 tragic intensity. Not from reflex jealousy, for there 
 was no bitterness in her heart connected with this 
 first infatuation of her husband; he was her husband; 
 he had told her all about it; he had married her; so 
 she could never be jealous of that first lost love, es- 
 pecially as jealousy was not in her nature; no, her 
 present anguish was that of remorse remorse so keen 
 that now, when she was alone, it found expression in 
 words: 
 
 "He has told me all; he has kept nothing from me; 
 he has told me his heart's deepest secret! my true 
 and loyal husband! and I I have a secret, a fatal 
 secret, that I must forever keep from him from him 
 to whom all my love and faith are due. Oh, the bur- 
 den! the burden! the grievous burden of this secret! 
 It is more than I can bear! Oh, Lord of Heaven and 
 earth! My burden is heavier than I can bear!" she 
 cried, clasping her hands upon the top of her head and 
 walking distractedly up and down the floor in a 
 paroxysm of mental anguish that, could it have lasted, 
 must have destroyed her. But the saving feature of 
 these sharp agonies is that they do not last. The 
 storm of emotion spent itself, and Lilith dropped into 
 her chair, where she sat in the stillness of reaction 
 and exhaustion. 
 
 In half an hour Mr. Hereward came in and found 
 her sitting calmly where he had left her. 
 
 "Dear," he said, "we must leave here to-morrow by 
 eight o'clock, in order to catch the ten o'clock train 
 for Washington. So all your preparations should be 
 completed to-night." 
 
 "All are completed, Tudor. When shall we reach 
 Washington? tomorrow?" she inquired, without rais- 
 ing her head, lest he should discover traces of her
 
 196 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 emotion and ask her questions which she dare not 
 answer truthfully. 
 
 "About six o'clock in the evening, dear time 
 enough for the hotel dinner and a good night's rest; 
 but to prepare for the long day's journey, Lilith, you 
 had better retire to rest," he answered. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE MEETING ON THE TRAIN 
 
 VERY early the next morning the household at the 
 Cliffs was astir. Breakfast was on the table at seven. 
 The carriage was at the door at eight, with Steve on 
 the box. 
 
 "Have yon seen or heard anything of Alick?" Mr. 
 Hereward inquired of the coachman. 
 
 "Yes, sah. Alick is sabe and sound ober at Mr. Jab 
 Jordon's. Levi, Mr. Jab's man, come ober yere to tell 
 we-dem," replied Steve. 
 
 "Very well. Fielding has instructions to look after 
 him and notify me if the man should grow worse, or 
 require medical attendance or restraint," said Mr. 
 Hereward. 
 
 He handed Lilith into her seat, followed her, and 
 the carriage started. 
 
 It was a very pleasant drive, over the stubble fields 
 and through the leafless woods, in the bright sunshine 
 of that early winter morning. 
 
 They made such good speed that they reached Frost- 
 hill full twenty minutes before the train was expected 
 to start. 
 
 Mr. Hereward sent back his carriage to the Cliffs 
 and led Lilith into the waiting-room, where he left her 
 while he went to the news-stand to buy some papers 
 and magazines to read on the journey.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 197 
 
 There happened to be no one in the room but her- 
 self. Frosthill was never a busy station. 
 
 Lilith sat alone, wrapped in her own thoughts, until 
 she was startled by a voice and a step that came up 
 behind her. 
 
 "Why, Lilith, darling, you here? Where are you 
 going?" 
 
 She recognized the voice even before she saw the 
 speaker. She arose, turned, and confronted Mr. Alfred 
 Ancillon. 
 
 She clasped her hands and raised her eyes to his, in 
 an agony of appeal, as she muttered, hoarsely: 
 
 "I am going to Washington by this train. Oh, for 
 the love of Heaven! Listen! Mr. Hereward is herel 
 Go! go! do not let him see you! Oh, pardon me for 
 saying this, but leave me while I have my senses left. 
 Please please go!" 
 
 "Yes, yes, I will. Hereward here? I don't see him. 
 Where is he?" 
 
 "At the book-stand, and he will be back imme- 
 diately. Oh, go!" 
 
 "Well, dearest, I will. I understand, my darling 
 girl. I understand. I, too, am going to Washington, 
 and I shall see you there. Au revoir, ma belle fille." 
 And Mr. Ancillon lifted his jaunty cap from his black 
 curls and walked away. 
 
 Lilith, pale and trembling, lowered her crape veil to 
 hide her agitation from the, eyes of her husband, who 
 was now rapidly approaching with a bundle of news- 
 papers and magazines in his hands. 
 
 "Come, my little lady-love. The train will be here 
 in a few seconds," he said, as he offered his arm to 
 Lilith. 
 
 She arose and took it in silence, and they walked 
 out and stood on the platform just as the warning 
 shriek of the steam-pipe was heard, followed by the 
 rumbling thunder of the approaching train.
 
 198 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 As soon as it stopped, Hereward hurried his young 
 wife into the ladies' car, found for her a comfortable 
 seat and took one by her side. And the train, which 
 had stopped only thirty seconds, flew off again on its 
 eastern flight. 
 
 There were but few passengers in the ladies' car, 
 and all were strangers to the Herewards. 
 
 It was while the train was rushing on at its utmost 
 speed that Lilith saw the door in front of her open and 
 a gentleman put in his head. He was Alfred Ancillon. 
 He met Lilith's eyes, exchanged glances with her, nod- 
 ded, withdrew and closed the door after him. 
 
 Mr. Hereward, absorbed in the newspaper that he 
 was reading, saw nothing of this by-play. 
 
 The train rushed on and on. It was the way-train 
 and stopped at many stations, where people got out 
 and other people got in. 
 
 Finally, at two o'clock, the train stopped at one of 
 the more important junction stations, where the con- 
 ductor cried out in a loud voice, that reached from 
 one end to the other of the long train: 
 
 "WHEATFIELDS! Twenty minutes for dinner." 
 
 "Come, dear, will you get out?" inquired Mr. Here- 
 ward, rolling up his papers and preparing to leave the 
 car. "Shall we get some dinner? They keep a pretty 
 fair table at the 'Farmers' Rest.' Will you come?" 
 
 "No, please, Tudor, not if I can be permitted to stay 
 here," pleaded Lilith. 
 
 "But it would rest and refresh you to leave the cars 
 for a few minutes," he urged. 
 
 "I would rather not, sir, thank you, Tudor. Please 
 go and dine. I shall be very well here," persisted 
 Lilith, who was in deadly fear of meeting Alfred An- 
 cillon by venturing into the hotel. 
 
 "But you must have something, dear. You can havo 
 it here if you wish. What shall I send you?" urged 
 Hereward.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 199 
 
 "Since you think so, you may send me a sandwich 
 and a cup of tea; but if you do not hurry, Tudor, you 
 will not have time to get your own dinner." 
 
 "I think you wish to get rid of me, little one," he 
 said, smiling as he left the car. 
 
 Every one else had also left it. 
 
 Lilith was alone for about two minutes, and then a 
 hand was laid upon her shoulder, and a voice spoke in 
 her ear: 
 
 ''Lilith, my child, one moment let me speak to you 
 for one moment! Where will you be in Washington? 
 Where ,hall I be able to meet you there?" 
 
 It was the hand and it was the voice of Alfred 
 Ancillon. 
 
 Lilith, in an agony of terror and distress, feeling on 
 the very verge of swooning, could scarcely answer him. 
 
 "Oh," she faltered, "you must not try to see me in 
 Washington. You must not, indeed. Oh, pardon me 
 for saying this, but you must not!" 
 
 "Lilith, my darling, that seems very hard. Why 
 may I not see you sometimes alone?" he pleaded, fix- 
 ing those large, pensive dark eyes imploringly on her 
 troubled face. "I who have some rights over you also 
 I who have lost you for so many years for all your 
 life, in fact. Why may I not see you sometimes 
 alone?" 
 
 "My duty to my husband " began the young wife; 
 but her voice faltered, and she watched nervously 
 through the car window for any sign of the return of 
 Hereward. 
 
 "Your duty to your husband? I do not dispute that. 
 I even like it. I would have you to be a good and true 
 wife. But have you no duties to me, Lilith?" 
 
 "Oh, I do not know! I do not know! My mind is 
 perplexed; my heart troubled. The burden of this 
 secret is killing me is killing me! Oh, if you would 
 release me from my oath! If you would but let me tell
 
 200 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 my husband!" Lilith pleaded, in a low, heart-broken 
 tone. 
 
 "And consign me to a fate you dare not even think 
 of, and I will not even name." 
 
 "Oh, no! no! no! I cannot betray you. I will not. 
 But oh! do not try to meet me in Washington! Do not! 
 I could not would not meet you without my hus- 
 band's knowledge. To keep this secret from him is as 
 far as I can go, as much as I can do. And it is kill- 
 ing me! For he is so true and good, so frank and 
 noble, that he keeps no secret from me. And I feel 
 as if I were sinning against him all the time." 
 
 "My poor little girl, I am very sorry for you. I 
 almost regret that I ever sought you out, Lilith. But 
 the temptation to look once upon the face that be- 
 longed to me was too strong. And since I have looked 
 upon that sweet face it has become the light of my 
 life, Lilith. And you can say to me that I must ndt 
 seek to see it in Washington!" 
 
 "No, you must not! You may believe in my love for 
 you in my duty to you. But you must not do any- 
 thing to make trouble between my husband and my- 
 self! You would not, would you?" 
 
 "Not willingly, dear child. But I must see you 
 again. I must look again on the face that is the light 
 of my life! Good-bye, my sweet child." 
 
 And he turned and abruptly left the car, as a hotel 
 waiter, bearing a tray, came in and placed it on the 
 turned-over seat in front of Lilith. 
 
 But she could not eat. Her mouth was parched, her 
 throat choked. She drank the cup of tea and sent the 
 waiter away. 
 
 Ten minutes later Mr. Hereward and all his fellow- 
 travelers re-entered the car, and the train started. 
 
 The remaining half of the journey was made with- 
 out incident worth recording.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 201 
 
 And precisely at six o'clock in the evening the train 
 reached Washington. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 WILL HE LOVE HER? 
 
 "STAND here for a moment, dear, while I get a car- 
 riage," said Tudor Hereward, as he left his young 
 wife on the crowded platform, and stepped out among 
 the shouting, jostling pack of haekmen and porters, 
 who render our railway stations the terror of timid 
 travelers. 
 
 Her husband was no sooner lost in the confusion and 
 herself alone in the crowd, than Lilith felt a hand 
 laid upon her shoulder, and heard a voice whispering 
 in her ear: 
 
 "Only a moment to say good-bye, my child, and to 
 ask you to give me your address," pleaded Mr. Alfred 
 Ancillon, standing behind her. 
 
 "Oh, I dare not! I dare not do so! Pray pray 
 if you love me, do not seek to see me in Washington," 
 Lilith implored, in deadly fear. 
 
 "I will not, since you object. Yet it is hard. It is 
 hard. I should like to know where you are to live, 
 where to fix you when I think of you. But no matter. 
 I do not blame you, Lilith. I blame myself. I ought 
 never to have sought you out never to have made 
 myself known to you; but I could not help it. Oh, my 
 child, I could not help it! You draw me, Lilith! Yon 
 draw you compel me!" 
 
 "You should not, for your own sake, have followed 
 me, especially here to Washington, where there are so 
 many foreigners, English among them English who 
 might recognize you. No; for your own safety, dear, 
 you should not have followed me here," said Lilith,
 
 202 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 speaking as gently, as tenderly, as her fright and 
 anxiety would permit. 
 
 "I did not follow you here, darling. I did not even 
 know that you were coming. I left Staunton to fulfill 
 an engagement at Washington, and you took the train 
 at Frosthill. Mr. Hereward is coming to take you 
 away. I shall see you again. Good-bye, my child." 
 
 He was gone, and Hereward was at her side. 
 
 "You are shivering with cold, Lilith. But never 
 mind. Come, get into the carriage, and we will soon 
 be at our hotel," said Tudor Hereward, as he drew her 
 trembling arm within his own, and led her to a well- 
 cushioned, closed carriage, put her into it, and took 
 his seat. 
 
 "To the Hotel," he said to the hackman. 
 
 And the carriage rolled off and turned into Penn- 
 sylvania Avenue. 
 
 Lilith was thankful for the darkness of the interior, 
 which aided her crape vail in concealing her pale and 
 anxious face from the observation of her husband. 
 
 A few more revolutions of the carriage-wheels 
 brought them to their hotel. 
 
 They drew up at the ladies' entrance. 
 
 Hereward got down and handed his wife to the pave- 
 ment, paused a moment to pay and discharge the car- 
 riage, and then led her into the house and up to the 
 ladies' parlor. 
 
 "Remain here for a few moments, dear, while I go 
 down to the office to register and get my key," he said, 
 as he led her to a corner sofa and left the room. 
 
 The large parlor, or rather parlors for there were 
 several rooms en suite, and only divided by curtained 
 and festooned arches were occupied by ladies and 
 gentlemen in evening dresses, reclining on sofas, 
 standing in groups, or promenading in pairs; for the 
 hotel dinner was over and the patrons of the house 
 were all either receiving visitors in the general par-
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 203 
 
 lors, or were waiting the hour to start for some eve- 
 ning party or entertainment. 
 
 They took no notice of Lilith, who sat quite still in 
 her corner, and who was only one of the frequent new 
 arrivals, and might be but a transient guest of the 
 house, for aught they knew to the contrary. Nor did 
 she pay much attention to them, until a group of 
 ladies and gentlemen, sitting a few feet from her, be- 
 gan to talk of one in whom she took a deep interest. 
 
 "Yes," said a gray-haired male gossip, "and the 
 manner in which she led on that young Hereward was 
 simply dishonorable! Why, every one thought they 
 were engaged lovers, and were looking forward to re- 
 ceiving their wedding cards, when the announcement 
 of her approaching marriage with Mr. Bruyin fell like 
 a thunder-clap upon people." 
 
 "And poor young Hereward has never been the 
 same man since her marriage," added a very stout 
 and high-complexioned matron, with gold-powdered 
 blonde hair, and in a rich evening dress. "He used 
 to be one of our best society young men! Now he is 
 never seen in public at all, except, indeed, in his seat 
 in the House." 
 
 "Ah! talk of his Satanic Majesty and you know 
 the result! Here comes the young fellow," said the 
 gray-haired male gossip. 
 
 Hereward had entered at the most distant door 
 fronting this group, and walked rapidly up to his 
 young wife. He was not near enough to the group in 
 question to be obliged to recognize or bow to them. 
 He only stooped and whispered to Lilith: 
 
 "Come, my little love!" and led her from the room. 
 
 Hereward led his young wife down a brilliantly 
 lighted hall, between rows of doors, some of them 
 open, revealing glimpses of spacious and handsomely 
 furnished apartments, to the elevator that took them
 
 204 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 up to the top floor among the most plainly fitted and 
 lowest-priced rooms in the house. 
 
 On landing he went and unlocked his own door and 
 led Lilith into his den. 
 
 Lilith, accustomed to the spacious, comfortable 
 apartments of her old-fashioned country home, in- 
 voluntarily shrank back in dismay. 
 
 The room was small, dingy and fireless; the table 
 and the faded red carpet strewn and littered with 
 papers, and the uncurtained window covered with 
 frost. 
 
 All this Lilith saw from the gas jet that stood oppo- 
 site the open door, in the passage without; for there 
 was no light in that cheerless room. 
 
 "Bah! what a beast I was to forget to order a fire 
 lighted! There are no registers on this floor, dear!" 
 said Hereward, as he felt in his pocket for his cigar- 
 box of matches. 
 
 "I am very glad there are not, Tudor! I like an 
 open fire so much better," replied Lilith, who had re- 
 covered from her first dismay at sight of the room. 
 
 "I will ring and have a fire made immediately. 
 Don't take off your wraps, dear, for it is as cold here 
 as it is outdoors," said Hereward, as at length he 
 struck a match and lighted the gas. 
 
 The fuller light did but reveal the more clearly the 
 cheerlessness of the dingy, untidy room. 
 
 To Lilith it looked really poverty-stricken, almost 
 squalid. 
 
 "Sit down in that easy-chair, and wrap your mantle 
 closely around you and keep still, and we shall have a 
 fire presently," said Hereward, as he gave a vigorous 
 pull to the bell. 
 
 At that moment there was a rap at the door, and to 
 Mr. Hereward's "Come in" a hotel porter appeared. 
 
 "I want a fire here, Martin, as soon as possible.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 205 
 
 And open the window to ventilate the room while 
 you are kindling it." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Come, my little lady love, we will go downstairs," 
 said Hereward, in a low voice, as he led Lilith out of 
 the room, leaving the porter in possession. 
 
 They went down in the elevator to the dining-room 
 floor, and again passed open or half-open doors, reveal- 
 ing glimpses of handsome suites of apartments. 
 
 And Lilith, who had not been used to any economy 
 in her home life or while traveling with her foster- 
 father, wondered why her husband did not occupy one 
 of those fine suites of rooms instead of the poor cham- 
 ber at the top of the house. 
 
 She was to learn the reason later. 
 
 They entered the dining-hall, and Hereward led her 
 to a remote, unoccupied table, where they sat down 
 and where they were immediately attended by a 
 waiter, to whom Hereward, after consulting Lilith, 
 gave his orders. 
 
 In a very few minutes they were served with hot 
 coffee, stewed oysters, toast, and beefsteak on a chaf- 
 ing-dish. 
 
 Hereward, and even Lilith, who had scarcely broken 
 her fast since morning, did full justice to these re- 
 freshments. 
 
 When their supper was over, and they had reached 
 their attic chamber again, they found a fine fire of sea 
 coal glowing in the grate, which had been freshly 
 polished. 
 
 And this gave the room a much more habitable and 
 even comfortable aspect than it had had before, 
 though still the table and the floor were strewn and 
 littered with papers. 
 
 "You can take off your bonnet and cloak and heavy 
 shoes now, Lilith. You must be very tired of them. 
 There is no wardrobe or closet in this apartment, dearj
 
 206 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 but there is a row of hooks on the wall at the foot of 
 the bed, where you can hang them. This is a poor 
 place I have brought you to, my little lady love," said 
 Hereward, who had already seated himself in his arm- 
 chair at the table before the fire, and was beginning to 
 examine the letters that had accumulated during the 
 two days of his absence. 
 
 "Oh, I do not mind for myself, so that I am with 
 you, Tudor, and so that you like to have me. You do 
 like to have me, don't you, Tudor? I am not in your 
 way, am I, even if the room is small?" she smilingly 
 yet anxiously inquired. 
 
 "In my way, you darling child? No; but I wish you 
 were better lodged." 
 
 "Oh, never mind about me. But yourself, Tudor? 
 Is it proper that a man of your position should be so 
 humbly lodged as this?" 
 
 "My little love, the world of Washington knows 
 that I am at a first-class hotel. They do not know, 
 and need never know, that we are up on the fifth story. 
 If people call, we receive them in the parlor down- 
 stairs. We do not lose caste by lodging so near the 
 clouds," he gayly replied. 
 
 "But for your comfort, Tudor." 
 
 "Comfort, dear, must be sacrificed to more impor- 
 tant considerations. Yet I am sorry that you should 
 suffer." 
 
 "Oh, never mind me, I say. But, Tudor, I thought 
 indeed I know from inference, that you used to have a 
 very handsome suite of apartments in this same hotel, 
 that you used to dress elegantly and go constantly 
 into society. You used to be one of the most popular 
 of society men an aesthete, too; now, but for your 
 public duties, you are an anchorite, an ascetic. Why is 
 this, Tudor?" she inquired, not with any jealousy oc- 
 casioned by what she had overheard in the parlor 
 for, as has been said, Hereward had given her his
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 207 
 
 whole confidence on the subject of his first-love story 
 but in unselfish interest in his comfort and welfare. 
 
 The change in his habits of which she spoke was 
 true enough; and he determined to give her the ex- 
 planation to which he thought she was entitled. 
 
 "My dear, I was about to tell you why I have 
 changed my habits. In the first place, I cannot go into 
 society so soon after my father's death, as you know." 
 
 "Of course, neither you nor I would feel like doing 
 so. But had you not given up parties even before that 
 sorrow?" 
 
 "No; your telegram found me at Senator S.'s mas- 
 querade ball. But let me explain, dear. In looking 
 over my dear father's papers after his death, I found 
 evidence that he had borrowed large sums of money at 
 usurious interest, for which he had given his notes, 
 and with which he had speculated and lost. Now, 
 although the holders of my father's notes have no 
 legal claim upon the estate, which came to me through 
 my mother, and in which my father had only a life in- 
 terest, yet I hold myself morally bound to take up 
 those notes, to pay all my father's debts. And I am 
 paying them out of my salary; for you know, dear, 
 that the old plantation barely pays its own expenses. 
 That is the reason why, when in Washington, we must 
 live very cheaply." 
 
 "Oh, Tudor, Tudor! How much you have to bear 
 for my sake! for I know my dear, dear foster-father 
 entered into those speculations for the purpose of 
 making some money to leave to me not to leave me 
 quite destitute. Oh, how shall I ever be able to make 
 up to you for all that you have to bear on my ac- 
 count?" 
 
 "Hush, dear! You are making it up to me now. 
 But to proceed. I have taken up all his notes, giving 
 my own, secured by bond and mortgage on the old 
 plantation. If I remain in office, as I fully expect to
 
 2G8 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 do, I shall be able to take up all these notes in the 
 course of a few years. If not, the woods must be cut 
 down and the quarries worked on the estate, or, if 
 necessary, even the half of the land must be sold to 
 clear off the debts. Do not look so grave, little lady. 
 We shall be here but a few months. Though this is 
 the 'long session,' I think Congress will certainly ad- 
 journ by the first of June." 
 
 "If I cannot help you to-night, do not let me inter- 
 rupt you by my talk. I will sit here and watch you, 
 and you must go on with your work and forget my 
 existence," said Lilith, as she drew her chair to the 
 corner of the hearth, and ceased to speak. 
 
 "Your presence does not disturb me in the least, my 
 darling; quite the contrary. I am only sorting papers. 
 I shall select some of these letters for you to answer 
 to-morrow, with penciled notes for guidance some of 
 the least important letters to begin with, by way of 
 testing your ability, my little lady." 
 
 The clock on the steeple of a neighboring church 
 was intoning twelve, when Hereward arose from his 
 work, stretched his arms with a silent yawn, and said: 
 
 "What a thoughtless brute I am to have kept you 
 up at this hour of the night, after a long journey, too! 
 This is the sort of life you must expect to lead with 
 me, Lilith. But you must never repeat this night's 
 performance. You must go to bed at a proper time, 
 however late I may have to sit up and work. Here, 
 my little lady love. Here is a packet of letters with 
 penciled guides, which you may try your ' 'prentice 
 hand' upon to-morrow," he concluded, placing the par- 
 cel apart from the other papers.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 209 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 A BUSY BEE 
 
 \ 
 
 "The blithest bee that ever wrought in hive." 
 
 THE next morning those gossips who were interested 
 in the identity of the young lady in deep mourning 
 who had appeared at the hotel in the company of Mr. ; 
 Tudor Hereward, took an early opportunity of con- 
 sulting the list of arrivals for the previous day, and 
 found there an entry that took them somewhat by 
 surprise: 
 
 "Hon. Tudor Hereward and wife, West Virginia." 
 
 "The discarded lover was not long in consoling him- 
 self," said one. 
 
 "A marvelous short time, I should say," added an- 
 other. 
 
 "I wonder what she is like?" inquired a third. 
 
 "We shall see at breakfast. She will be at break- 
 fast with him, of course," concluded a fourth. 
 
 But they were all out of their reckoning. They did 
 not see either Mr. or Mrs. Tudor Hereward that morn- 
 ing. 
 
 The young couple, though they had retired so late, 
 arose earlier than their fellow-boarders, and went 
 down and got their breakfast when there was no one 
 in the room except the waiters and some travelers 
 who were to go off by some early train or boat. 
 
 And after that Tudor had escorted Lilith up to their 
 room, and then left the hotel for the Capitol, where he 
 had some business to do before the meeting of the 
 House. 
 
 Lilith, left alone in the little, littered, disorderly 
 room, looked around upon the scene. 
 
 The chambermaid had done her routine duty had
 
 210 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 made the bed, changed the towels, and so on but the 
 table and the carpet were strewn with a litter of 
 letters and papers and pamphlets that it was none 
 of her business to touch. 
 
 So first of all she went down on the carpet and 
 gathered up all the torn and scattered papers, examin- 
 ing them one by one, lest she should destroy some- 
 thing of importance, and then cramming them down 
 into the waste-paper basket, which, when closely 
 packed and pressed down, was made to hold all the 
 litter in the room. 
 
 She then rang the bell and sent the basket down by 
 the porter to be emptied and returned. 
 
 Then she carefully laid aside the various files of 
 letters, papers and pamphlets with which the writing- 
 table was encumbered, took the cover off and shook 
 it out of the open window, and, after dusting the 
 table, covered it again, and replaced the files of papers 
 in their accustomed spots. 
 
 She emptied the dusty and sticky inkstand of its 
 thick ink, washed it under the running water of the 
 washstand, and filled it with clear ink. 
 
 At length, when she had made everything clean and 
 orderly, Lilith sat down and took up the file of letters 
 that she was to answer by instructions, and have 
 ready for Hereward to sign when he should return in 
 the evening. 
 
 She went through the whole file, examining them 
 to survey the field of her work before beginning. 
 
 The first letter proved to be from a constituent of 
 Mr. Hereward, who wanted the post-office at Hayville. 
 The penciled line of instruction was: 
 
 "Reply courteously that the place is promised to an- 
 other party. Regrets, etc." 
 
 The second letter was an inquiry concerning the bill 
 for the new tariff. The line of directions was:
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 211 
 
 "Write that the bill will be presented on the fifth' 
 instant." 
 
 The third letter was an invitation to speak at a cer- 
 tain political meeting in a neighboring city. The in- 
 structions: 
 
 "Answer with thanks and regrets. Prior engage- 
 ments the plea." 
 
 And so through the file of twenty-three letters, with 
 short lines of instructions to guide her answers, Lilith 
 went, with growing confidence and satisfaction in her 
 task. 
 
 "Why, this is all as plain as copying. Nothing is 
 left to my doubtful discretion, therefore nothing is 
 left to puzzle me. I shall easily get through before 
 Tudor returns." 
 
 Lilith worked on and on, her cheeks flushed and her 
 eyes bright with pleasure in her labor of love. 
 
 She shrank, at first thought, from going down to the 
 dining-room alone; but, knowing that she must over- 
 come her rustic shyness, sooner or later, she felt that 
 she had better take the plunge at once. 
 
 Lilith dispatched the luncheon, returned to her 
 room, and resumed her work until she had completed 
 her task at about half-past five o'clock. 
 
 She was gathering up the letters to bind them to- 
 gether when her husband entered the room and 
 walked to the table. 
 
 She looked up with sparkling eyes and flushed 
 cheeks. 
 
 "How pretty you are, my little lady love! How have 
 you got on since I left you?" he inquired, as he took 
 the bright face between his hands and kissed her fore- 
 head. 
 
 "Finely, Tudor. Have you time now to glance over
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 these letters and sign them? Or are you too tired?" 
 she inquired, rising and resigning her place to him. 
 
 "I am not yet tired, and I have half an hour at my 
 disposal before dinner. I will glance over them now,'' 
 he answered, as he sank into the chair that she had 
 left. 
 
 He was a very rapid reader, especially of these 
 letters written in a clear hand. In fifteen minutes he 
 had run through and signed the whole lot of twenty- 
 three letters, Lilith watching the process with anxiety 
 that gradually changed to delight as she saw him sign 
 and seal letter after letter without demur. 
 
 "Your day's work has saved me a night's work, my 
 little lady love," he said, as at last he arose and gave 
 her a kiss the all-sufficient reward for all her efforts. 
 
 "I am so glad to hear you say so, Tudor? But is the 
 work well done?" she anxiously inquired. 
 
 "Very well done. Much better than necessary," he 
 replied. 
 
 "How better than necessary?" she asked. 
 
 "The letters, especially those refusing requests 
 made, are needlessly courteous and lengthy." 
 
 "Oh, Tudor! But when you are obliged to disap- 
 point people, is it not right to express yourself as 
 kindly and politely as possible?" 
 
 Lilith made a more careful toilet, perhaps, than 
 usual for the public hotel dinner putting on her rich 
 black silk dress, trimmed with crape and jet, with a 
 slender jet hair-band on her black ringlets, and a jet 
 necklace and jet bracelets on her fair neck and arms. 
 
 Tudor, when he had refreshed his toilet a little, took 
 her down to the dining-room, where all the guests of 
 the house were assembled or assembling, mostly in 
 full dress. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Hereward were met by one of the 
 waiters, who escorted them to a vacant table and gave
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 213 
 
 them two seats, which were henceforth to be their 
 own. 
 
 During that long and tedious dinner, with its many 
 and slowly served courses, Mr. Hereward, always a 
 conspicuous figure in any assembly, and his young 
 wife, in her lovely, childlike beauty and her deep 
 mourning dress, gradually attracted the attention of 
 the people within their line of view, and occasioned 
 much remark. 
 
 "They will be in the parlors this evening, I suppose. 
 For though Hereward has not honored the parlors 
 much of late, of course he must bring his wife down. 
 She cannot stay in her room forever." 
 
 So went the talk. 
 
 But Hereward did not bring his wife into the par- 
 lors that evening, for on putting the question to her, 
 slie shrank from the idea of entering them and re- 
 quested to return to their room. 
 
 "For I know you have work to do that will keep you 
 up half the night, Tudor, and I wish to help you to 
 prove to you how much I can help you. And, Tudor, if 
 you really wish to make me happy, you will let me 
 help you as much as I please, for there is nothing in 
 the world I like to do so well." 
 
 The protracted dinner was at an end, and they left 
 the table and turned to leave the room, as many of 
 their fellow-guests were doing. 
 
 On their way down the long dining-room Mr. Here- 
 ward was accosted by some of his acquaintances. 
 
 "Glad to see you back, Hereward!" exclaimed a 
 stout, red-faced, gray-haired, soldierly-looking old 
 man. 
 
 "Thank you, general. I am glad to find myself 
 here," replied the young man, and he would have 
 passed on with his young wife. 
 
 "Mrs. Hereward, I presume," said the general, bow- 
 ing politely, and not to be balked of an introduction.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Hereward General Abbotson, my dear." 
 said the young man, going through the presentation 
 with intentional formality. 
 
 The parties bowed and the gallant general pro- 
 fessed himself as honored and delighted. 
 
 In the midst of his compliments he was interrupted 
 by the coming up of a tall, thin, black-whiskered, 
 grave-looking gentleman of midde age, who held out 
 his hand with a 
 
 "How do you do, Hereward? When did you 
 arrive?" 
 
 "Only last evening. I hope you are recovering, 
 senator." 
 
 "Yes, thank you, I am better." 
 
 "Will you permit me to present you to my wife? 
 Senator Barminster, my dear." 
 
 The lady and gentleman bowed. 
 
 "Mr. Hereward, I was pleased to see you at your 
 post this morning. We cannot spare you until this 
 question of the new tariff shall be disposed of," said 
 a rather solemn-looking, bald-headed, round-bodied old 
 gentleman, joining the group. 
 
 "Thank you, judge. Mrs. Hereward Judge Bur- 
 leigh, my dear." 
 
 The parties bowed in recognition of this introduc- 
 tion, and the judge was addressing some words of 
 commonplace compliment to the little lady, when 
 others came up, and, in short, it was nearly half an 
 hour before Hereward could escape from his friends, 
 and take his wife up to her room, scarcely knowing 
 whether he was pleased or displeased at the sensa- 
 tion caused by her beauty perhaps a little of both on 
 opposite accounts. 
 
 "What are you going to do to-night, Tudor?" she 
 inquired, when they had reached their apartment, 
 which was no longer a "den," but had been turned 
 by her taste and tidiness into a "snuggery."
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 215 
 
 "Look over these letters which have come during 
 the day, and fix some for you to answer to-morrow." 
 
 "Ah! that is well." 
 
 "There are but few; afterwards I must work at my; 
 speech on the tariff." 
 
 "What can I do for you, Tudor, while you are look- 
 ing over those letters?" 
 
 "Have you no needlework?" he inquired, without 
 looking up from his employment of sorting his letters, 
 separating the "wheat from the chaff," so to speak. 
 
 "No; not even the everlasting, irrepressible, in- 
 evitable shirt-button to sew on. The very last fugitive 
 one was captured and secured while we were at the 
 Cliffs." 
 
 "No fancy-work?" 
 
 "No that is, yes lots of beading, braiding, em- 
 broidering, and the like. But I do not mean to do 
 'fancy' work when I see you at real work, in which 
 I can help you." 
 
 Hereward dropped a despised letter from some poor 
 office-seeker into the basket, and turned to look wist- 
 fully at his wife. 
 
 No; there was no threat of future rebellion or ob- 
 stinacy in that upraised, beaming young face. But he 
 saw that she was really eager to be of use, and, in- 
 deed, he was in need of her help, but had not liked to 
 take it ; he had feared to weary her. 
 
 He lifted up a pile of manuscript that was a perfect 
 labyrinth of interlineations, erasions and interpola- 
 tions. 
 
 "Do you think you can decipher and copy this?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Well," she said, looking at it critically, "the Egyp- 
 tian hieroglyphics might be easier, but I like to 
 grapple with a difficulty. Yes, I will take this task, 
 if you please, Tudor."
 
 216 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 And neither worker spoke to the other until ten 
 o'clock, when Lilith looked up and said: 
 
 "I have copied all that you have given me. Have 
 you more?" 
 
 Without looking up from his absorbing work, he 
 pushed towards her half a dozen more pages of laby- 
 rinthine hieroglyphics, which she began to read and 
 copy in a fair, clear text. 
 
 When she had got through with these she did not 
 disturb him again, but quietly took up the two or 
 three more pages that he had laid down. And after 
 copying them, she took up the last one just as he had 
 laid it down, and stretched his arms over his head 
 with a sigh of relief. 
 
 "You do not mean to say that you have got through, 
 Lilith?" he inquired, as he looked at her pile of fairly 
 transcribed manuscript. 
 
 "All but this last half page, which I shall finish in 
 a few minutes," she replied, driving away as fast as 
 she could with her engrossing pen. 
 
 Tudor Hereward arose and walked about the room, 
 threw up the window, and looked out. 
 
 "It is snowing," he said, as he lowered the sash 
 again. "The ground and the tops of the houses are 
 quite white." 
 
 Lilith did not reply or look up. 
 
 The neighboring church clock intoned eleven. 
 
 "There! Put up your work, Lilith, I really cannot 
 allow you to overtask yourself," he said, moving to 
 her side. 
 
 "There, it is done! The last line, word, letter, is 
 written. And the 'great speech' is ready for delivery," 
 she gayly said, as she arose and put the manuscript 
 in his hands. 
 
 "Thank you, Lilith, thank you, dear little girl ! This 
 is very clearly written, indeed. It is as easy to read 
 as good print."
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 217 
 
 "You may thank my trainer for that." 
 
 "And who was he, or she? Your school writing 
 master or mistress?" 
 
 "Our father. When I copied for him he used to tell 
 me that the very first object in writing was to be read; 
 and that, therefore, the text should be very clear. 
 And now, I think, Tudor, if your arguments are as 
 clear and forcible as the text in which they are there 
 inscribed, the new tariff bill which they support must 
 pass, and by a large majority not that I believe in 
 your bill myself," she said, shaking her black, curly 
 head at him. 
 
 "What, Lilith! Have you an opinion on this sub- 
 ject?" laughed Hereward. 
 
 "I had a very decided one. I admit that your 
 reasoning has just shaken my faith a little." 
 
 "And what were those opinions?" he inquired, with 
 the air of a man amusing himself with a child. 
 
 "I consider your tariff a huge national selfishness!" 
 
 "Lilith! Did you get that opinion from my father's 
 teachings?" 
 
 "Oh, no! He, like you, was a protectionist. We 
 used to have it hot and heavy! But he never could 
 convince me that the tariff was not a monstrous 
 national selfishness, or that selfishness was any better 
 in a nation than in an individual." 
 
 "Were there any other knotty problems in politics 
 that you and my father discussed?" 
 
 "And differed about? Oh, yes, the extradition 
 treaty. We used to have warm debates over that! 
 But he could not convince me that a fugitive should 
 not have some place of the Lord's earth where he 
 could be safe from pursuit." 
 
 "There should be no foot of ground on earth where 
 a criminal should be safe from capture." 
 
 "I don't know, Tudor! Cain, the first murderer, 
 fled. He was not pursued and brought back. In the
 
 218 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 middle ages there was the sanctuary of the church. 
 The worst criminal, flying to the altar for refuge, was 
 safe from the highest mortal authority. I do not quite 
 think that our extradition is any improvement on all 
 that! especially in the light of Christian charity." 
 
 "Lilith, you talk like a child, my dear! Fugitives 
 from justice should be caught and brought back even 
 from the nethermost parts of the earth, if to those 
 regions they have fled," said Hereward, with stern 
 gravity. 
 
 "Suppose a man should be wrongfully accused, 
 wrongfully convicted of a capital crime, wrongfully 
 condemned to death, and should make his escape, and 
 fly hither to this country as to a city of refuge. How 
 horrible the law that would send him a guiltless man 
 back to die a felon's death!" exclaimed Lilith, in 
 such strong emotion, that her husband looked at her 
 more intently than ever. 
 
 "Lilith," he said, "you must not let your feelings 
 dominate your reason, my dear. You really speak as if 
 you had some vital personal interest in this question! 
 As if some one very near and dear to yourself was in 
 this case a fugitive from justice, or injustice, as you 
 put it!" 
 
 Lilith turned her head away to hide the deadly pale- 
 ness that came like a cold wave over her face. 
 
 Lilith soon recovered from her temporary distress, 
 and by the time they had finished supper she was chat- 
 ting and smiling as before the subject of the extradi- 
 tion treaty had come up between them. 
 
 "I have a prize in you, my little girl! I have a price- 
 less treasure in you!" whispered Tudor Hereward, as 
 they went upstairs together. 
 
 Lilith said nothing. She was thinking: "If it were 
 not for that secret oh, that secret, which I am keep- 
 ing from him! from him who keeps no secret from 
 me! we should be so happy! So very happy!"
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 219 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 LILITH AT THE CAPITOL 
 
 "LILITH, dear," said Tudor Hereward to his young 
 wife, the next morning, when they had returned to 
 their room after their early breakfast, "the day is so 
 fine and the walking so good, for the snow that fell 
 last night is crisp on the ground, that I think you 
 should go out. Suppose you put on your wraps and 
 let me take you to the Capitol?" 
 
 "But the letters that you have fixed for me to an- 
 swer, Tudor?" 
 
 "There are only about half a dozen. They can be 
 disposed of in an hour, after we come home this 
 evening." 
 
 "Then I would like to go, thank you, Tudor." 
 
 She put on her seal-skin jacket and hat and drew on 
 her black kid gloves, and they went downstairs and 
 left the hotel. 
 
 This was the first time in which Lilith had seen the 
 broad avenue by daylight. 
 
 "It is the finest avenue I have ever seen in my life; 
 but the buildings are not worthy of its magnificent 
 scope," said Lilith. 
 
 "Time was, in the early days of the city, as the old 
 inhabitants tell, when this avenue at this season was 
 but a muddy road, flanked by a few scattered and ir- 
 regular houses of wood, or red brick, and of only one 
 or two stories in height, with here and there, at long 
 distances, a three-story brick that looked quite mag- 
 nificent by contrast; but that must have been full fifty 
 years ago. Now we have some very handsome edi- 
 fices," replied Hereward. 
 
 "But still, as a whole, the buildings are not worthy 
 of the magnificent breadth and sweep of the vista," 
 persisted Lilith.
 
 220 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 This remark brought them to the gates of the 
 Capitol grounds, and as they entered, Hereward was 
 joined by several Congressional friends, whom he, in 
 turn, introduced to his young wife. 
 
 They went up the long, weary ascent of broad stone 
 steps leading from terrace to terrace till they reachr-d 
 the Capitol building. 
 
 Hereward took LiMth into the handsome library, 
 found her a seat and said: 
 
 "Amuse yourself here until I return. I have to go 
 on a committee, but I will come for you before the 
 house meets and take you to the Ladies' Gallery." 
 
 And he went away. 
 
 Lilith arose and went to one of the tables upon 
 which piles of large illustrated volumes lay. 
 
 She sat down at the table and opened one of the 
 volumes. 
 
 It was the CLANS OF SCOTLAND, richly and profusely 
 illustrated in colors, showing in the most brilliant 
 hues the tartans of the various chiefs. 
 
 This so absorbed the attention of the young lady 
 that, in turning page after page and comparing one 
 chieftain's individuality with that of another, and 
 with reading the letter-press descriptions, which were 
 interspersed with historical notes and anecdotes, Lilith 
 forgot the passage of time, until she felt a hand laid 
 on her bent head and heard a voice in her ear: 
 
 "Lilith, darling! I was here for hours, yesterday, 
 hoping that you might chance to come in, as every 
 stranger in the city does." 
 
 All the bright, enthusiastic interest in the girl's face 
 faded out, leaving it pale with dread at the sight of 
 the dark, handsome visage of Mr. Alfred Ancijlon 
 bending over her. 
 
 "Oh, why do you seek me out? Oh, my dear, if you 
 knew how you frighten me, how you endanger and 
 compromise me, you would not do it! You would
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 spare me," she breathed, in a hurried, anxious, plead- 
 ing tone. 
 
 "Lilith, my child, you are all that I have in this 
 world to care for, and you are all who care for me. 
 Have you no natural affection for me, Lilith? None, 
 my child, none?" he pleaded, fixing on her those large, 
 dark, unutterably mournful eyes that were so full of 
 piteous prayer. 
 
 "Oh, yes! I have! I have! Before I ever saw your 
 face, when I only saw your picture, my heart wa3 
 instinctively drawn to you. And when I learned your 
 tragic story from those old letters my heart ached, 
 ached for you. And when, later on, I learned all that 
 you were and are to me, I found full warrant and jus- 
 tification for the love I felt and the pain I suffered. 
 Oh, yes, dear, I have natural affection, but I have 
 duties as well duties, ah, yes! duties that are incom- 
 patible with this secret that I am keeping from my 
 husband. Oh, my dear, this secret is the only thorn 
 in a very flowery path of life. But I suppose all paths 
 must have some thorns," she added, with a deep sigh. 
 
 "And so I am the only thorn in your rosy path, eh, 
 Lilith?" he inquired. 
 
 "Oh, no, no, not you, but the secret I am keeping 
 from my husband, that weighs on my conscience and 
 warns me of evil to come. I try not to think of it. 
 And I do forget it when I am at work," she said. 
 
 "Lilith, it is well I bound you by a solemn oath not 
 to reveal this secret, or your tender conscience, your 
 delicate sense of duty, would lead you to a course that 
 would send me back to " 
 
 "Oh, hush! hush! Your words stab me. No, I 
 would never betray you. Come what will of weal or 
 woe, I will never betray your secret. But oh! what a 
 strait " she suddenly ceased, as if feeling as if it were 
 ungenerous and even cruel to dwell upon the pain-
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 fully false position in which his misfortunes had 
 placed her. 
 
 "How do you do, Mrs. Hereward? I am happy to 
 see you looking so well this morning." 
 
 It was the gray-haired judge whom Hereward had 
 introduced to his wife on the preceding evening, who 
 had now come up to speak to her. 
 
 Mr. Alfred Ancillon bowed with the grace that was 
 peculiar to him, and silently left. 
 
 "Thank you, judge; I hope you are well," responded 
 Lilith, who was glad of the relief his presence gave 
 her.. 
 
 The judge bowed, took a seat at the table, and im- 
 mediately entered upon the small talk with which high 
 official dignitaries in Washington refresh themselves 
 when in company with ladies whom they suppose to be 
 incapable of understanding anything better. 
 
 But when he found that Lilith had never heard 
 Patti sing, or seen Neilson play, or read Ginx's Baby, 
 or attended any of the public receptions, and in con- 
 sequence had no opinion to give about any of them, 
 he began to consider Tudor Hereward's young wife 
 as a very rustic though a very, very pretty little 
 party. 
 
 While they talked, the young husband himself en- 
 tered the library, and came up to them, exchanged a 
 greeting and a few words with the judge, and then 
 took the arm of his wife, who arose to join him, and 
 conducted her through all the lobbies, halls and cor- 
 ridors that lay between the Congressional Library 
 and the Ladies' Gallery of the House of Represen- 
 tatives. 
 
 Here he found her a comfortable seat in the front 
 row, and then he left her and went down to take his 
 own place in the hall below. 
 
 Some bill relating to ports and harbors was before
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 223 
 
 the House, and a heated debate ensued, in which 
 Hereward took an active part. 
 
 Lilith, sitting in the gallery, which was now 
 crowded with other ladies, soon grew so accustomed 
 to the new scene and subdued light as to see and 
 hear with perfect distinctness, although the debate 
 was not very attractive to her. She was not interested 
 in ports and harbors. Only when Hereward spoke did 
 she listen attentively. At other times, if the truth 
 must be told, the poor child was bored almost to 
 death, and wished herself anywhere else on the face 
 of this weary earth than in the Ladies' Gallery in the 
 House of Representatives of this great and glorious 
 Republic. No words can express how tediously the 
 hours of the afternoon passed. 
 
 Lilith registered a vow that she would never, no, 
 never, enter the House of Representatives again, un- 
 less it should be some occasion when Hereward was 
 to present a bill or make a speech. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon, and there was a lull in 
 the storm consequent upon the temporary withdrawal 
 of several members from the hall, when Hereward 
 left his seat and came up into the Ladies' Gallery to 
 speak to Lilith. 
 
 "Are you tired and hungry, dear?" he inquired. 
 
 "Yes, VERY," answered Lilith, with emphatic frank- 
 ness. 
 
 "What did you think of the debate?" 
 
 "I hated it!" 
 
 "So did I. Come, dear, we will go downstairs to the 
 restaurant and get something to eat and drink. I see 
 that fasting is not a means of grace with you, and I 
 know it is not with me," he said, as he gave her his 
 hand to assist her to extricate herself from the laby- 
 rinth of fashionable costumes and velvet-cushioned 
 benches in which she had got involved.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 And they continued their way down to the saloon, 
 where they partook of a well relished dinner. 
 
 "Now, dear, perhaps you would rather return to the 
 hotel. I must go back to my place; but I can take you 
 down and place you in an omnibus first, if you wish." 
 
 "Oh, no, Tudor! I would far rather walk, if you 
 please," she said. 
 
 He took her out upon the western terrace and down 
 the many flights of broad stone steps, from terrace to 
 terrace, and along the avenue to the west gate, where 
 lie was to leave her. 
 
 He turned to walk back to the House, and she 
 walked on up Pennsylvania Avenue. 
 
 A great many people, drawn out by the fineness of 
 the late winter afternoon, were on the sidewalks. 
 
 On reaching her room at the hotel, she took off her 
 wraps and put them away. 
 
 Then, as it was growing dusk, she lighted her lamp, 
 placed it on the table, and sat down to answer those 
 letters that Hereward had marked for her. 
 
 It took her but little more than an hour to complete 
 her work. Sitting alone, with two hours to wait be- 
 fore the return of her husband, she looked around the 
 room to see what she could do to make it more attrac- 
 tive and comfortable. She had already greatly im- 
 proved it, by reducing it to order and tidiness. 
 
 But now she saw much more that might be done. 
 And she took pencil and paper and made a list of 
 articles that she meant to go out and purchase the 
 next day. 
 
 Lilith had a small hoard of money of her own; for 
 her beloved foster-father, even in his tightest straits, 
 had never stinted her, or even allowed her to know of 
 the manner in which he had denied himself for her 
 sake. 
 
 Now she was glad of this money, which gave her the 
 power to make this cheap room comfortable and at-
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 225 
 
 tractive to him whose well-being she valued more than 
 her own life. 
 
 All that the loving heart could suggest that could 
 add to the comfort and beauty of this room, without 
 encumbering it, w r as thought of and set down. 
 
 Some might ask: 'Why could not the young wife 
 have turned over those few hundred dollars that she 
 had saved to her husband? 
 
 Lilith herself had wished to do this, but she dared 
 not try it. She knew that Tudor Hereward would no 
 sooner have accepted the offer of her little fund the 
 gift of his father than he would have swindled a 
 baby. His pride would, or at least might, have con- 
 strued such an offer into an offence. 
 
 Lilith had just finished her list and put it into her 
 pocket-book, when the door opened and Tudor Here- 
 ward entered, looking so tired that Lilith wished from 
 her heart she had the easy resting-chair and the ap- 
 paratus for making him a quick cup of the good tea 
 that he liked so much, and that she was determined 
 to have the next day. 
 
 "The House adjourned earlier than you expected? 
 I am so glad, Tudor," she said, as he dropped wearily 
 into the wooden arm-chair. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, reaching out his hand to the 
 letters that had come for him during the day; "and 
 here is work enough to keep me busy all the evening." 
 
 "The work you left for me is all done, Tudor, and 
 ready for your signature," she said, blithely. 
 
 "You are my good fairy, darling," he replied, 
 earnestly but wearily, as he took up the pile of letters, 
 and began to glance over and sign them. 
 
 "Not a word to alter in any of them, Lilith," he said, 
 as he sealed the last one. "Now these are ready for 
 the mail." 
 
 He rang and dispatched them by a messenger, and 
 then turned to the new letters.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 ''If you mark them one at a time, and give them to 
 me as you read them, I can answer some while you are 
 examining others," suggested Lilith. 
 
 "Very well, dear. I will do so," assented Here- 
 ward. 
 
 And working so in unison, they got through their 
 business at an earlier hour than on the preceding 
 evening. 
 
 They went down and took supper about ten o'clock, 
 leaving the last batch of letters in the hotel office, to 
 go by the first mail the next day. 
 
 The next morning the sun rose brilliantly on a snow- 
 clad, frosted city. 
 
 "There is really no work left for you to do to-day, 
 my little busy bee! How shall you employ or amuse 
 yourself w T hile I am gone? Or would you like to go 
 again to the Capitol?" inquired Hereward, when, after 
 they had breakfasted, he was about to leave the hotel. 
 
 "Oh, no, thank you, Tudor. You have heard my 
 opinion about that. I do not mean to go to the House 
 again until your bill is taken up and I go to hear your 
 great speech," replied Lilith. 
 
 "Then how will you pass the time?" 
 
 "Oh, I have some shopping to do and some domestic 
 matters to attend to," replied Lilith. 
 
 Hereward raised his brows in droll helplessness. 
 
 "Those are mysteries that I cannot pretend to 
 fathom," he said, with a serio-comic air, as he kissed 
 her good-bye and left the room. 
 
 Soon after this, Lilith put on her fur hat and jacket, 
 and taking her portemonnaie and her list, she went 
 out to make her purchases. 
 
 Midwinter is not a very busy time with upholsterers, 
 so that Lilith found no difficulty in getting her cur- 
 tains made up and her resting-chair and hassock made 
 ready and put in place by the stipulated time. 
 
 By five o'clock in the afternoon the plain little room
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 227 
 
 was transfigured, as by a magician's wand, into a 
 beautiful and attractive apartment, whose prevailing 
 hue was a rich warm crimson. 
 
 And Lilith sat down in the glow, to wait with child- 
 like impatience for the return of Tudor. 
 
 Hours passed and Hereward did not return. 
 
 When the clock struck eight Lilith went again to 
 the window to look out. 
 
 The electric light still radiated in the black sky 
 above the dome, with a white splendor passing 
 strange, beautiful and suggestive. 
 
 "The House is still in session. They must be having 
 a heated debate or a long speech. I hope for the sake 
 of the desks it is a long speech," said Lilith to herself 
 as she turned away from the window to face Tudor 
 Hereward, who had quietly entered the room. 
 
 "Oh!" she exclaimed, with a little start. "I 
 thought Did you leave before the House ad- 
 journed?" 
 
 "No, dear. The House has adjourned. The light 
 that you were watching still burns for the Senate, 
 which is still in session," replied Hereward, turning to 
 drop into his customary wooden arm-chair, but find- 
 ing a handsome and most comfortable crimson cush- 
 ioned "sleepy hollow" ready to receive his wearied 
 frame. 
 
 He dropped into it without a word, and looked 
 around the handsome, cozy room. 
 
 Lilith, smiling and delighted, watched him in his 
 surprise and enjoyment. 
 
 "What fairy has been at work here to-day?" he in- 
 quired, still looking round to note all the changes. 
 
 "No fairy, nothing so aerial; but only your little, 
 homely brownie, Tudor," replied Lilith, in delight. 
 
 "My darling, how did you manage all this?" he in- 
 quired, in perplexity. 
 
 "I had some funds saved up from the allowance our
 
 228 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 dear father used to make me, and I spent a small por- 
 tion of them on these comforts. It does not take much 
 to make a room like this comfortable, Tudor." 
 
 "And you spent your own money money that you 
 might have spent on dress, or personal adornings?" 
 
 "Our father's, rather, Tudor. And why should I 
 save it, when I have you to give me everything I want? 
 I shall freely ask you for everything I want, Tudor, 
 from a hat to a pair of boots, for I know that you will 
 gladly give me all I require," she said, as she went 
 and stood at his side. She was even yet too shy to 
 kiss him of her own accord, but she laid her face 
 against his cheek, for an instant, and the man's heart 
 responded, and he drew the little head down upon his 
 bosom and caressed it in that passion of pity and 
 tenderness which he felt for her because he could not 
 love her as he had loved the woman who, as compared 
 to her, was but as dross to refined gold. 
 
 "She knows no difference, poor little one, and if I 
 only pet her a little and permit her to worship me a 
 great deal, I shall make her perfectly happy." 
 
 All these thoughts passed swiftly through his mind 
 during the few moments that he held her head upon 
 his bosom. 
 
 "Are you very tired, Tudor? But I see you are," 
 she said, looking up into his face. 
 
 "I am resting delightfully, but with a consciousness 
 of undeserved happiness, Lilith," he answered, 
 gravely. 
 
 She looked puzzled, but presently asked him: 
 
 "Will you go down to dinner? It must be at its 
 height now." 
 
 "I dined at the Capitol restaurant. I hope that you 
 have not waited?" 
 
 "Oh, no; that is, I lunched very heartily after I 
 came in from my shopping expedition, about three 
 o'clock, and so, of course, I could not eat anything
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 229 
 
 now. But I know what to do," she said, gayly, as she 
 arose and went to work over a little gas-stove and 
 kettle. 
 
 He turned to his letters and was soon absorbed in 
 the business of reading them, and separating the 
 wheat from the chaff the letters that must be placed 
 on file and answered, from those that might be thrown 
 into the waste-basket and forgotten. 
 
 Presently Lilith brought him a fragrant cup of tea, 
 in a fine china cup and saucer, with a silver tea spoon. 
 
 "Lilith, darling!" he said, looking up at her, as he 
 took the cup from her hand. 
 
 "I know your thirst for really good tea, Tudor, and 
 how much it refreshes you while you are at work, and 
 I know that we cannot get good tea downstairs," she 
 said, standing over him. 
 
 "This is delicious! this is restorative! The elixir of 
 life, my Lilith!" he breathed, with satisfaction, as he 
 drank of the blessed cup that "cheers but not 
 inebriates." 
 
 "Yes, Tudor, a little woman must keep house or play 
 at keeping house, even if it be on so small a scale as 
 making tea for her husband in a hotel attic," said 
 Lilith. 
 
 "A little woman like you, my Lilith! I wonder if 
 you know yourself if you realize all that you are. 
 But I am sure you do not," he said, looking wist- 
 fully at her. . 
 
 "I know that I wish to be all that you would have 
 me, Tudor," she answered, as she quietly took his cup 
 and refilled it. 
 
 "Little one, are you satisfied with me? Am I all 
 that you would have me to be? to yourself, I mean. 
 Do I make you happy?" he inquired, tenderly, 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Oh, yes, Tudor!" she said, raising her truthful, darts 
 eyes to his. "You make me very, very happy."
 
 230 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 And forgotten, for the time being, was the secret 
 that was the only shadow of her life. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 DRAWN TO THE BRINK 
 
 THE eventful day came at last when the bill for the 
 establishment of the new tariff was to be taken up by 
 the House of Representatives, and the Hon. Tudor 
 Hereward was to deliver his speech in its support. 
 
 The rumor of an expected speech from the rising 
 statesman and eloquent orator was always sure to 
 draw a crowd to the Hall of Representatives. 
 
 From an early hour the hall was crowded and every 
 seat in the Ladies' Gallery was filled. 
 
 Lilith was there, of course. Much as she disliked 
 the crowded galleries and the noisy debates, she was 
 present in a front seat. She would not have missed 
 hearing Tudor's speech on any account. 
 
 She listened to every word of it, and although the 
 largeness of her sympathies made her differ, at heart, 
 from the principles it supported, yet she gloried in its 
 power and triumphed in its success for it was a sig- 
 nal success. Late that evening, when the vote was 
 taken, the bill was passed by an overwhelming ma- 
 jority. 
 
 That evening, after the young pair had returned to 
 their hotel and dined, Tudor took Lilith into the 
 ladies' parlor. 
 
 "You have been here a week, my little lady love, and 
 have never spent an evening with the guests of the 
 house. I cannot permit you to immure yourself so 
 entirely. This evening, too, some friends are corning 
 to meet me " 
 
 "To congratulate you, Tudor?"
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 231 
 
 "Well, to talk with, me, at all events, and I wish to 
 introduce them to you if I have your permission, my 
 lady." 
 
 " 'Permission?' Oh, Tudor!" 
 
 "Certainly, Mrs. Hereward," he answered, with, a 
 sort of playful gravity; "I should never present any of 
 my male acquaintances to you without your per- 
 mission." 
 
 "As if you could possibly bring any one to me to 
 whom I could possibly object! Will you now take 
 carte Handle to bring any one you please to me, 
 Tudor?" 
 
 He laughed and kissed her hand, and they entered 
 the parlor. 
 
 The appearance of Hereward seemed the signal for 
 the approach of all his friends and acquaintances. 
 Even before he had found a seat for Lilith, and while 
 he stood with her hand resting on his arm in the 
 middle of the floor, they were surrounded. 
 
 It was an ovation. 
 
 The forensic success of the afternoon was crowned 
 by the social triumph of the evening. 
 
 Lilith in her plain, simple mourning dress, but with 
 her dark eyes glowing and her delicate cheeks flushing 
 with delight in the honors of her husband, seemed 
 more beautiful than ever in the sight of all. 
 
 Hours later, when the young couple left the parlors 
 and went up to their own room, Hereward asked Lilith 
 how she had enjoyed this, the first evening she had 
 spent in company. 
 
 "Oh, very, very much indeed, Tudor. How every 
 one lauded your speech!" she answered, looking 
 proudly up to him. 
 
 " Yes to my very face ! Bather embarrassing, don't 
 you think, little lady?" 
 
 "To you, I suppose, Tudor. But they were so very
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 much in earnest!" she said, her lovely face beaming 
 with love and pride. 
 
 The next day was Saturday. 
 
 As Tudor Hereward walked down the avenue his 
 eyes were attracted by a huge, flaming poster, higher, 
 broader and brighter than ever a poster had been be- 
 fore. 
 
 However his eyes might have been "holden" all the 
 week, he could not help seeing this obtrusive object, 
 that set forth that this Saturday night would witness 
 the positively last appearance of the world-renowned 
 artist, Mr. Alfred Ancillon, in his unrivaled role of 
 Mazeppa, or the Wild Horse of Tartary. 
 
 " 'Ancillon?' Is not that the name of the fellow 
 that was playing down at Frosthill during the Christ- 
 mas holidays, and who afterwards got storm-bound at 
 the Cliffs?' Certainly." 
 
 "What do you think of that by way of an advertise- 
 ment, eh, Hereward?" said an acquaintance, joining 
 him. 
 
 "Almost actionable as an obstruction of the high- 
 way, I should think," laughed Tudor. 
 
 They walked on together. 
 
 "Have you seen the man play?" inquired Evans. 
 
 "I? No! I did not even know of such an actor in 
 the city," truthfully answered Hereward. 
 
 "Why, he has been here playing all the week. And 
 I tell you he is worth seeing. He is really a fine tragic 
 actor as well as an accomplished equestrian; has gifts 
 you don't often see combined in one person. That is 
 the wonder of him. You had better go and see him 
 to-night, Hereward. It is your last chance." 
 
 "Perhaps I will, Evans." 
 
 And the men parted. Evans turned north to go to 
 the Baltimore and Ohio Railway depot, to meet a rela- 
 tive who was coming to meet him, and Hereward con- 
 tinued his way eastward toward the Capitol. He
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 233 
 
 thought of what he had just heard, and of what, two 
 weeks before, he had heard in the railroad car on his 
 way to Frosthill, and the longer he thought of these 
 subjects the more inclined he felt to go to the 
 Varieties and see this Monsieur Alfred Ancillon for 
 himself. 
 
 Who has lived long in this world of vicissitudes, 
 accidents, catastrophes, and failed to recognize the ap- 
 palling truth that men even good and true men 
 often walk blindfold along the very brink of a preci- 
 pice hanging over the gulf of perdition? 
 
 What demon was it that was leading Tudor Here- 
 ward to the Varieties? 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 "THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER" 
 
 THAT Saturday evening, when Tudor Hereward 
 found himself alone with his young wife in their apart- 
 ment after dinner, instead of sitting down to his cor- 
 respondence, as usual, he went to the dressing glass 
 and began to brush his hair. 
 
 "Lilith," he said, without looking towards her, for 
 he was still busy with his toilet, "I am going out this 
 evening. Do you mind, dear?" 
 
 Lilith did mind she could not help minding that 
 she should be without his companionship all the long 
 winter evening. 
 
 "I am sure I ought not to mind, Tudor, for we have 
 been here almost a fortnight and you have never left 
 me alone for a single evening. 
 
 "Where are you going this evening, if I may ask the 
 question? to a political caucus? Don't answer if you 
 don't like to," she said, gayly.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "I have no secrets from you, Lilith, dear. I am 
 going to the theatre." 
 
 She winced when he said he had "no secrets" from 
 her; but she recovered herself, and said: 
 
 "Oh! to the theatre. I thought you never went to 
 such places. I thought you rather despised such en- 
 tertainments as mere waste of time," she smiled. 
 
 "I do consider them waste of time, and never go to 
 them, as a rule; but rules, you know, permit excep- 
 tions, and I have been persuaded by Evans, of the 
 Reflector, to make an exception to my rule this eve- 
 ning, and go with him to the theatre to see the prodigy 
 of the age, or some such miracle." 
 
 "Oh! to see the great Italian in some Shakesperian 
 role, at the National Theatre?" 
 
 "No, Lilith. If I were going there I should ask you 
 to accompany me; but I am going where I cannot take 
 you." 
 
 Lilith's face fell. 
 
 "I am going to a circus, or something like it; a 
 highly sensational, spectacular drama, entitled Ma- 
 zeppa, or the Wild Horse of Tartary, founded on Lord 
 Byron's poem of the same name, in which the title 
 r61e is to be played by Monsieur Alfred Ancillon, a 
 celebrated universal genius, if we are to believe the 
 handbills and posters. But, really, he is said by 
 Evans, the dramatic critic of the Reflector, and by 
 other competent judges, to be quite wonderful; 
 equally gifted in tragedy, comedy, opera and circus. 
 So I have been prevailed upon to go and see this 
 phenomenal Monsieur Alfred Ancillon." 
 
 It was well that he was engaged in drawing on a 
 very tight kid glove, and so was not looking at her 
 when he spoke. 
 
 She made no reply. She had gone pale as death, and 
 was looking into the fire as she stood on the rug. 
 
 "By the way, he is the same fellow who was playing
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 235 
 
 down at Frosthill when that young cub, Hilary, came 
 to the Cliffs to invite you to go and see him, in three 
 characters in one evening, I think he said. You have 
 seen him, Lilith?" 
 
 It was disingenuous to put this question when he 
 knew well that Lilith had seen the man; but doubtless 
 he believed himself justified in putting it. 
 
 Lilith hesitated, and answered, slowly: 
 
 "I have never seen him play. I have seen him, 
 though. He was storm-bound for a week at the 
 Cliffs, as you may have heard," she concluded, com- 
 manding her voice by an effort greater than she had 
 ever made, or ever had occasion to make before. 
 
 "Yes, I heard. Not a very fitting person to be your 
 guest, I think; but then, of course, being a storm- 
 bound traveler, you could not turn him out of doors; 
 and being a white man, you could not turn him over 
 to the negro servants for society and entertainment. 
 You could not help yourself, my poor little Lilith, and 
 I will not criticize you. But what sort of a fellow is 
 this Monsieur Alfred Ancillon? Of what age? Of 
 what complexion? Of what behavior?" 
 
 "Oh, he was a man of middle age and of very dark 
 complexion and of rather odd manners." 
 
 "A swarthy old man, with ill manners. Not a 
 gentleman, in fact," was Hereward's silent and most 
 satisfactory translation of his young wife's descrip- 
 tion. 
 
 "Well, good-night, my little lady love. Amuse your- 
 self as well as you can while I am aw r ay. I shall return 
 by eleven. And I shall not leave you alone another 
 evening while we stay in Washington." He stooped, 
 took her lovely little face between his hands and 
 kissed her, seeing without seeing how pale she had 
 grown. 
 
 In another moment he had gone. 
 
 He was joined by Evans in the reading-room, and
 
 236 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 they walked up the avenue and entered the theatre 
 together. 
 
 Evans had secured two stalls in the middle of tho 
 first row of orchestra seats, and they took their places 
 just as the music ceased and the curtain rose, dis- 
 covering a mediaeval boudoir, a lady and a page 
 seated she on a cushioned divan, ho on a rug at her 
 feet. She was young, pretty, r.nd richly dressed in the 
 Polish costume of the period; he was a princely youth 
 seemingly of not more than seventeen or eighteen 
 years, of surpassing beauty, grace and elegance, all 
 enhanced by the splendid court dress of the royal 
 pages. 
 
 As he sat at the feet of the gracefully reclining lady 
 he held a book open on his knee; but he was not then 
 reading to his fair mistress; his glorious eyes were 
 raised to hers with the fire of adoring worship. 
 
 The thunder of applause with which the scene was 
 greeted surprised Hereward so much that he turned 
 and inquired of his neighbor: 
 
 "Evans, what on earth is the matter with them?" 
 
 " 'Matter!' Why they go mad directly they see 
 Ancillon." 
 
 "Aneillon? Where is Ancillon?" 
 
 "Why there, before your eyes, reading poetry to the 
 contessa." 
 
 "That Ancillon? That boy Ancillon? Why, he is a 
 mere youth!" 
 
 "He is young; there is no doubt about that. And as 
 beautiful as Adonis, or Narcissus, or any other of th p 
 mythic youths and lady-killers whom the jealousy of 
 the elder gods sacrificed." 
 
 "And she told me he was an elderly man. swarthy 
 and awkward!" thought Hereward, unconsciously dis- 
 torting Lllith's description from the very different 
 words that she had used, to the interpretation tlui t 
 he had put upon them.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 237 
 
 "And this is no stage illusion," he continued, tortur- 
 ing himself "no stage art that undertakes to make 
 an old fellow young; but which never quite succeeds. 
 No, I have too good sight, and sit too near, to be de- 
 ceived. Those eyes owe nothing to art. Those 
 shadows are really cast by the long eyelashes, they 
 are not smutches of charcoal. No, the evidence of my 
 senses shows me plainly that this man whom Lilith, 
 whom my trusted wife told me w r as old and vulgar, is 
 really young and elegant. Nor is it only the evidence 
 of my own senses that I have. The negroes at the 
 Cliffs spoke of their mistress' guest, in their peculiar 
 phrase, as a 'young youth.' The gossips in the train 
 spoke of him as a 'young fellow.' Good Heaven ! could 
 there have been any ground, the least ground, for their 
 slanders? Oh, Heaven! if Lilith is false at heart I 
 shall never be able to trust woman again. The 
 thought!" 
 
 "Here ward, you seem quite absorbed in this scene. 
 You have not taken your eyes off Mazeppa since the 
 curtain rose. What do you think of him? Did I ex- 
 aggerate?" inquired Evans, breaking in upon his com- 
 panion's reverie. 
 
 "Don't speak to me, if you please, Evans," replied 
 Tudor. 
 
 "Well, I won't disturb your enjoyment again. They 
 say that it is impossible to decide in what role this 
 artist excels; but I think the part in which he really 
 surpasses himself as well as all others, is that of the 
 lover. Why, that fellow's eyes and voice would 
 beguile a Peri out of Paradise! Just look at him 
 now !" 
 
 "Pray do not talk to me, Evans." 
 
 "Well, there, I have done! It is a mistake to talk to 
 one who wants to listen, and who is so interested as 
 you are!" assented the reporter, who subsided into 
 silence, while Hereward relapsed into his bitter
 
 238 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 reverie, jealously watching the graceful, brilliant page 
 reclining at the feet of the countess, gazing up into 
 her face, and pouring all the ardor and eloquence of 
 youthful love through the dark splendor of his eyes. 
 
 "I wonder how they passed that tete-d-tctc week at 
 Cloud Cliffs. Did he sit at her feet and read poetry to 
 her, in that rich, melodious voice of his? Did he lift 
 his eyes to her with the expression that burns in them 
 now for the count palatine's wife?" 
 
 "Heavens and earth! If I thought so, I should go 
 mad! Lilith is just at the inexperienced, romantic, 
 sentimental age when a young girl is most easily im- 
 pressed by beauty, genius and poetry. 
 
 "Great heaven! What shall I do? I cannot think 
 Lilith wilfully, actually unfaithful; but if she be un- 
 true in heart, as her deception of me to-night would 
 lead me to believe, I never wish to see her face again. 
 
 "I can no longer confide in her as I have done; but 
 neither will I condemn her until further evidence. I 
 will never, if I can command myself, speak to her of 
 this man again. But I will watch and observe! Mean- 
 time, my little lady, you shall be my private secre- 
 tary, since you like the office; but no more to me until 
 this cloud which your deception has raised about us is 
 cleared away." 
 
 Hereward's bitter mental monologue was inter- 
 rupted by a startling action on the stage before him. 
 
 The lovers were surprised at their tete-a-tete by the 
 arrival of the enraged count palatine and his men-at- 
 arms! 
 
 A terrific scene ensues. 
 
 The countess, swooning, is carried off the stage by 
 her hastily summoned women. 
 
 The page, surrounded by naked steel blades, stands 
 at bay and defends himself like a young hero. How 
 splendidly he fenced! His keen blade, flashing here, 
 there, up, down, before, behind, everywhere, with the
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 239 
 
 swiftness of lightning, as he whirled around, parry- 
 ing mortal thrusts. But he shows signs of failing, and 
 the voice of the count palatine is heard: 
 
 "Do not slay him. Take him alive and bring forth 
 the young wild horse that was caught but yesterday. 
 Bind him naked on that wild beast's back and lash 
 them off into the desert!" 
 
 The young Achilles, captured and bound, is brought 
 to the front and the curtain drops. 
 
 "Splendid fellow!" exclaimed Evans, as thunders of 
 applause rent the air, and cries of 
 
 "Mazeppa! Mazeppa!" or 
 
 "Ancillon! Ancillon! Ancillon!" became so fre- 
 quent and exciting that at last the great artist stepped 
 in front of the curtain, made a most graceful and 
 reverential bow and retired amid reiterated and pro- 
 longed acclamations. 
 
 "Evans, you must excuse me! I have had enough 
 of this, and I am going home," said Mr. Hereward. 
 
 "Going home! Why, are you not well?" inquired 
 the reporter. 
 
 "Perfectly well, but I am going. Good-night, 
 Evans," said Hereward, moving to leave the theatre. 
 
 "But stay. The last act" 
 
 "I know the end of the story. I suppose the drama 
 follows the poem. The young Mazeppa is rescued and 
 adopted by the Cossacks; in time is called to reign 
 over them; finally, at the head of his savage hordes, 
 he invades the dominions of the count palatine, burns 
 the castle, slays its lord, and, for aught we know, 
 carries off the lady." 
 
 He walked from the theatre to the hotel, looked into 
 the reading-room for a moment, then walked into the 
 ladies' parlor, to see if by chance Lilith was there, 
 and not finding her, he went up to their own apart- 
 ment and quietly opened the door. 
 
 Lilith, sitting by a shaded lamp on the table, with
 
 240 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 a pretty red velvet-lined work-box open before her, 
 and a little piece of black gauze needie-work in her 
 hands, looked too serenely happy to be the victim of 
 misplaced or sinful affections. 
 
 She raised her head as Hereward entered the room, 
 and her happy face became radiant with surprise and 
 delight. 
 
 In the bright atmosphere of her smiling, radiant 
 welcome the dark cloud of doubt and suspicion seemed 
 to pass away from his mind at least for the time. 
 
 "Oh! I am so glad to see you back, Tudor! But 
 I hope you did not return before the performance was 
 over, just to keep me company." 
 
 "I did not care to sit out the play," he answered. 
 "You know I really do not care for such entertain- 
 ments," he added as he dropped into his seat. 
 
 He did not intend to mention the name of Ancillon 
 to her if he could avoid doing so; but she herself was 
 the first to allude to the actor. 
 
 "You did not find the artist come up to the expec- 
 tations raised by the advertisements, I suppose," she 
 said, as she calmly resumed her seat and her work 
 for the "ice" once having been broken, Lilith could 
 now speak of Alfred Ancillon without betraying 
 emotion. 
 
 "On the contrary, I found him very superior to any- 
 thing I had been led to anticipate," replied Tudor. 
 
 "Indeed!" she exclaimed, in a tone of frank 
 pleasure. 
 
 "Yes; for, in the first place, the theatre in which he 
 acts and the florid style of the hand-bills and posters 
 had led me to expect nothing better than a jumble of 
 ranter, singer and acrobat, all in the person of the 
 lauded artist Ancillon. And I found a most accom- 
 plished young tragedian. And in the second place, 
 Lilith will you look at me for a moment?"
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 241 
 
 She raised her eyes from her work, and fixed them 
 on his face inquiringly. 
 
 "In the second place, Lilith, I was led to expect an 
 old, sallow, vulgar, inade-up actor. And I found a 
 young, handsome and accomplished man a gentle- 
 man, as far as personal appearance and manners go 
 to make one." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I do think he is all that you say, except in 
 the matter of age. He is not 3 T oung, but neither is he 
 old nor vulgar. Who ever could have told you that he 
 was so?" she inquired, in such evident surprise that 
 Hereward was, to use a vernacular phrase, "taken 
 aback." 
 
 " 'Who?' Why, you yourself, Lilith." 
 
 "I?" she exclaimed, in innocent wonder. 
 
 "Yes, yon. You told me to-night, before I went to 
 the theatre, when I asked you about his age, looks, and 
 so on." 
 
 "Oh, no! Indeed, you are mistaken. You must 
 have widely misunderstood me. I do not remember my 
 precise words, but they must have been ill chosen, 
 indeed, to have been capable of being interpreted as 
 you have understood them," said Lilith, so warmly and 
 sincerely that Hereward was greatly perplexed. 
 
 "Give me your idea of the man from your point of 
 view," he said. 
 
 "Then I think that he is about thirty-eight years 
 old, or what we would call middle-aged; he has a 
 very dark but clear complexion, and very fine dark 
 eyes and hair; and his manners are odd, or what you 
 might call eccentric, but never, never ungentlemanly. 
 He is, indeed, much more cultivated and refined than 
 any of the men of our neighborhood." 
 
 "You say that he is thirty-eight years old. Do you 
 call that middle-aged, Lilith?" ? 
 
 "I should think so. And a little more than middle- 
 age. I call thirty-five middle-age, because it is just
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 half of seventy, which, according to the Psalmist, is 
 the natural length of man's life," said the girl of 
 seventeen, confidently. 
 
 "Humph! He does not look near the age of thirty- 
 eight," said Tudor. 
 
 "No, indeed, he does not. His very slight stature, 
 his boyish countenance, curling black hair, and, in 
 fact, his whole personal appearance, suggests a young 
 man not more than twenty," said Lilith with a smile. 
 
 "How do you know his age, Lilith?" 
 
 "My impression is that he himself told me, though I 
 am not certain that he did." 
 
 "How did you entertain so strange a guest?" 
 
 "Oh, I gave him the freedom of our little library, 
 where he wrote, and no doubt dozed a little, and 
 yawned a great deal." 
 
 "And you gave him none of your society?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, quite a good deal of it." 
 
 "Oh! And how did he entertain you on such 
 occasions?" 
 
 "Sometimes he read to me." 
 
 "What did he read?" 
 
 "Fine passages from Shakespeare, Milton, Thomp- 
 son's Seasons, Cowper's Task, Goldsmith's Deserted 
 Village, and those charming old dried balsam poets 
 that our dear father taught me to love so much. 
 Tudor, would you like to have me lay aside my sew- 
 ing and help you to answer those letters? There is 
 a great pile of them come this evening," she inquired, 
 half rising from her seat to close her work-box. 
 
 "No, no, I am not in the mood to-night. I think I 
 will go down into the smoking-room and take a cigar." 
 
 "A very little amusement seems to unfit you for 
 work, Tudor," she said with a smile. 
 
 "This evening's amusement has, at any rate," he 
 replied, as he left the room. 
 
 "I feel so relieved now that I am able to speak of
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 him without betraying any emotion that might en- 
 danger my secret, or indeed without feeling any pain- 
 ful emotion. But there is little to fear now. This 
 is his last night. To-morrow he leaves Washington, 
 en route for California, and will trouble my life and 
 imperil his own no more, as I hope and believe," said 
 Lilith, as she gathered up her sewing and put it away, 
 and began to prepare a pot of cocoa over her gas- 
 lamp. 
 
 Meanwhile Hereward had gone downstairs, lighted 
 his cigar in the smoking-room, and strolled out into 
 the avenue to walk up and down the sidewalk to 
 smoke and to cool his heated brain. 
 
 His interview with Lilith had shaken his doubts of 
 her, but had perplexed him beyond measure. 
 
 He could not sit in Lilith's company, look in her 
 face, and retain his suspicions. 
 
 But when he came away from her and lost sight of 
 her, his doubts returned to bewilder his reason. 
 
 A half-hour later he returned to his room, partook 
 of the cup of cocoa that Lilith smilingly offered him, 
 because she said it was a better "night-cap" than tea, 
 and soon after retired for the night. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THE SHADOW DARKENS 
 
 MR. ALFRED ANCILLON had left Washington for San 
 Francisco, and a new prodigy reigned at the Varieties 
 in his stead. 
 
 Lilith felt very much relieved by his departure, and 
 she went with new zest to the work that made her 
 life's happiness, the work of helping her husband and 
 materially lightening his labors.
 
 244 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 But, as the days went on, she began to realize and 
 lament a change that was coming over Tudor. He was 
 not unkind exactly; but he was graver, silenter and 
 more reserved than she had ever known him to be. He 
 never jested with her now, never called her pet names, 
 or interested himself in her pursuits. 
 
 One day when he seemed even more than usually 
 grave and silent, she ventured to ask him : 
 
 "Tudor, dear, are you not feeling well?" 
 
 "Yes," he answered, lifting his eyes, with a sur- 
 prised and almost displeased expression. 
 
 "Tudor, are there have you any business anxieties 
 or troubles in which I could be of any use to you?" she 
 next inquired. 
 
 "No, no, Lilith, thank you, none," he replied, with 
 more courtesy than kindness in his look and tone, as 
 he returned to the perusal of his correspondence. 
 
 Lilith suppressed a rising sigh as she resumed her 
 work of answering the letters he had marked for her. 
 
 Tudor Hereward was indeed just then a most un- 
 happy man. He was just in that state of doubt and 
 uncertainty in which he could do nothing to relieve 
 his mind. 
 
 "She seems to love me," he said to himself; "she 
 seems to be devoted to my interests. She waits on me 
 as if she were my daughter instead of my wife. She 
 surely does! But what does all that go to prove? 
 Nothing, or worse than nothing! It may be that she 
 knowing that her heart is unfaithful to me only tries 
 to atone by her actions for her want of love! And, by 
 my life! now that I come to think of it, have not I 
 myself, in the first days of our marriage, caressed her 
 all the more tenderly and compassionately because I 
 felt and knew there was no love in my heart for the 
 child who had been forced on me as a wife? And 
 now she is doing the same thing, or nearly the same 
 thing, with less excuse! She is serving me like a
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 245 
 
 servant to atone for her heart's unfaithfulness! I 
 want no such services, Lilith, my lady! I do not think 
 that I can bring myself to accept them much longer!" 
 
 So Tudor Hereward tortured himself. And though 
 sometimes in Lilith's presence the fires of jealousy 
 burned down, they never burned out, but smouldered 
 on continually, ready to break out at any instant. 
 
 And Lilith, feeling the change that she could not 
 prevent nor understand, began to lose her bright 
 spirits and buoyant health, and to grow pensive and 
 silent. 
 
 All the people in the house noticed this decline and 
 commented on it to each other. 
 
 He was never actually unkind to Lilith, but he was 
 always cool, and often capricious in his manner to her, 
 in correspondence with the ebb and flow of his moods 
 of suspicion. 
 
 Lilith, deeply perplexed and distressed by this 
 change in Tudor, suffered all the more intensely, be- 
 cause she could t not comprehend it, and could not do 
 anything to remedy the evil. She could not even 
 question him, because she saw that questions annoyed 
 him, without eliciting any satisfactory answer. 
 
 It may seem strange that a man of Tudor Here- 
 ward's exalted intellect should permit himself and his 
 conduct to be governed by his moods. But all who 
 have had experience in human nature know well 
 that the men who command armies, or lead Senates, 
 cannot always govern their own spirits. 
 
 Lilith's health and strength continued to fail so 
 visibly that Hereward, despite all his cruel sus 
 picions of her faithfulness, began to be seriously 
 uneasy. 
 
 Suppose he had been unjust to her all this time? 
 Suppose he had cruelly wronged her? Suppose she 
 should be taken from him? he said to himself, as he 
 watched her one evening, while she was seated at the
 
 246 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 table, engaged in answering the letters that he marked 
 and handed to her from time to time, while looking 
 through his correspondence. 
 
 In this better mood he spoke to her very gently: 
 
 "Lilith, you are not looking well; I think you should 
 have medical advice." 
 
 "I am not ill, Tudor," she replied, looking up from 
 her work with a smile. 
 
 "Xo, but you are white, thin and depressed; I often 
 see it; you stay too much in the house; you have too 
 little recreation, Lilith; we must go out more." 
 
 i; I really do not care to go out, Tudor! And we 
 have a great dea^to occupy us at home." 
 
 "You do not care to go out! That is the worst of 
 signs. That is the way people feel when they stay 
 indoors until they grow morbid. We must reform this 
 habit at once. To-morrow evening there will be a pub- 
 lic reception at the White House. We will attend it. 
 Put aside those letters, Lilith, and turn your thoughts 
 to your toilet, for it must be one of simple elegance 
 to suit the style of your very youthful beauty," he 
 said, more affectionately than he had spoken to her 
 for many days. 
 
 She was so deeply moved by his tender tone that she 
 would have thrown herself into his arms and wept on 
 his bosom; but she restrained herself, and with only a 
 gentle smile she handed him the letter she had just 
 finished, and said: 
 
 "This is the last, Tudor, unless you have marked 
 some more for me." 
 
 "No, no more to-night, Lilith," he said, as he took 
 the letter and noticed the bright light in her eyes and 
 the fire in her cheeks, which only his tender words 
 had called there, although they looked so much like 
 fever the fatal hectic fever that he remembered so 
 well in his own young mother's case. 
 
 "Lilith," he inquired, with more anxiety than dis-
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 247 
 
 cretion, as she resumed her seat, "is there consump- 
 tion in your family, do you know?" 
 
 She looked up in surprise and perplexity as if in 
 doubt, before she replied: 
 
 "I I really don't know, Tudor. I have had no 
 means of knowing, you remember. " 
 
 Yes, he did remember what his own dying father 
 had told him of the death of Lilith's parents: the 
 father drowned in saving his Tudor's life; the 
 mother killed by the shock. The child Lilith orphaned 
 on the day of her birth. He remembered the whole 
 tragic and pathetic story, and the remembrance 
 deepened his pity for Lilith. 
 
 "Why did you ask me if there was consumption in 
 my family, Tudor, dear? Did you fear it for me? 
 You need not do so. I never had a cough in all my 
 life, and there is really nothing the matter with my 
 health nothing," she said, emphatically. 
 
 "I am glad to hear you say so, dear. And I do be- 
 lieve that there is nothing really amiss with you but 
 want of rest and of recreation; and these you shall 
 surely have." 
 
 The next day, following out his resolution, Here- 
 ward reminded Lilith that they were to go to the 
 President's reception in the evening. 
 
 She replied that she remembered it and would be 
 ready. 
 
 When he had left the hotel for the Capitol, Lilith 
 did think of her toilet for the occasion, feeling more 
 anxious to please Tudor by her appearance than to 
 w r in the admiration of the fashionable world at the 
 reception. 
 
 She had a very narrow field of choice for her dress 
 black or white, or both mixed. 
 
 She laid out her best black dress a lustreless silk 
 trimmed with crape. That would not do at all for the
 
 248 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 occasion; it was much too sombre too heavy; Tudor 
 would not like it. 
 
 For a moment she was perplexity embodied. It was 
 her very best dress. She had no other, except two 
 very plain house dresses of black cashmere. 
 
 Suddenly her face brightened. She thought of her 
 wedding dress, and remembered that very young 
 people in mourning might wear white in the evening, 
 if they avoided colors and trimmed the white with 
 black. 
 
 When evening came and she was dressed for the 
 reception, Tudor involuntarily looked the admiration 
 that he did not otherwise express. 
 
 He gave her his arm, and took her down to the 
 ladies' parlor to wait for the carriage that he went 
 to order. 
 
 There were very few ladies in the parlor. They were 
 mostly in their chambers, dressing for the reception. 
 
 Lilith, however, saw a Mrs. Praed, an elderly lady, 
 who always spoke affectionately to the lonely young 
 creature, and she went and seated herself beside this 
 fellow-boarder. 
 
 "How lovely you look, my dear! How beautiful 
 your dress is! The combination is really elegant," said 
 Mrs. Praed, approvingly. 
 
 "It was my wedding dress," said Lilith, simply. "I 
 took off the white flowers, and replaced them with 
 these black crpe lisse bows." 
 
 "Heavens, my dear! You surely never did THAT!" 
 exclaimed Mrs. Praed. 
 
 "Yes, why not?" inquired Lilith, in surprise. 
 
 "Oh, my dear child!" exclaimed the old lady, who 
 had more heart than brains, "for heaven's sake, go 
 and take off all that black at once! Though I don't 
 know that that would break the spell. The mischief 
 is done! You have worn it; it is too late, I fear. Oh, 
 child!"
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 249 
 
 "What mischief is done, Mrs. Praed?" 
 
 "Dear, dear! You have actually put mourning trim- 
 ming on the dress you were married in!" 
 
 "Well, but I am in mourning for my dear father." 
 
 "That makes no difference in what you have done. 
 Oh! my dear, it is the worst luck in this world! It is 
 an awful sign of approaching misfortune! Do run and 
 take all that black off immediately." 
 
 Lilith half despised herself for the thrill of supersti- 
 tious dread that suddenly shook her frame. 
 
 In a few moments they were in the carriage, 
 bowling up the avenue to the White House. 
 
 So large was the reception that evening, and so long 
 was the line of carriages, reaching from far down the 
 street before the gates, and far up the avenue of ap- 
 proach to the house, that the Herewards, who drew up 
 at the foot of the line, had to wait ten minutes and 
 creep by inches before they passed through the gate. 
 
 It was a very severe ordeal. They were crushed 
 through the halls, crushed through their respective 
 dressing-rooms, and when by magic they met again, 
 they were crushed into the reception-room and into 
 the presence of the President and his party. 
 
 A gentleman in an elegant court dress was just 
 making his bow to the chief magistrate. 
 
 "He is very handsome! Who is he?" whispered a 
 lady to her companion, both standing directly in front 
 of the Herewards. 
 
 "Oh, he is Seiior Don Alphonzo Mendoza Leon-y- 
 
 Zuniga, the nephew of the P minister," whispered 
 
 her escort. 
 
 At the same moment the bowing courtier raised his 
 head and turned to leave the "presence," and in that 
 moment, to their amazement, the Herewards recog- 
 nized in the elegant young Spaniard the form and face 
 of the strolling player, Mr. Alfred Ancillon.
 
 250 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 CHAPTEK XXVIII 
 
 WRONGED LOVE 
 
 LILITH grew pale and faint, and spasmodically 
 clasped the arm of her husband. He looked intently 
 on the face of the foreigner. 
 
 For an instant, against all probability, both the hus- 
 band and the wife took the stranger to be no other 
 than Mr. Alfred Ancillon. 
 
 Hereward turned and looked sternly into the face of 
 Lilith. He noticed her deep disturbance, her pallor 
 and her faintness, and he ground his teeth with inward 
 rage as he muttered to himself: 
 
 "Even a stranger's accidental likeness to the man 
 she yes, by my life! the man she loves can throw 
 her into this deep emotion. Heaven and earth! why 
 did I ever marry this child?" 
 
 He had no more time for jealous self-torture. The 
 foreigner had passed out; the people behind pushed 
 them; and the marshal was about to present him 
 
 "Mr. President Mr. Hereward." 
 
 Tudor Hereward bowed profoundly, and then pre- 
 sented his wife in due form. 
 
 The President received them, as he received all 
 comers, very cordially, shaking hands with Hereward, 
 addressing a few words of courtesy to Lilith and then 
 presenting them to the ladies of the White House who 
 were with him. Graceful bows on both sides, and the 
 short ceremony was over. 
 
 Still pressed on by the throng of people behind, they 
 passed into the East Room, where, indeed, as Tudor 
 had predicted, they had more space. 
 
 A very fine band, stationed somewhere out of sight, 
 was playing the grand spirit-stirring Kaiser March of
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 251 
 
 Wagner, and the greater portion of the company were 
 promenading in a circle around the room. 
 
 All the company were not promenading, however. 
 Many were seated on the sofas and chairs ranged 
 against the walls, and many were standing in groups, 
 talking fashion, politics, society or gossip. 
 
 No one seemed to listen to the grand music. 
 
 Hereward, still grim as the Sphinx with the thought 
 of Lilith's agitation at the sight of the foreigner, led 
 his young wife to a seat on an unoccupied sofa, in the 
 northeast corner of the room. 
 
 They were almost immediately surrounded. 
 
 Political friends of Hereward came up to con- 
 gratulate him on the effect of his last great speech, 
 and perhaps with the wish to be introduced to his 
 beautiful wife. 
 
 Tudor, throwing off the gloom that had settled on 
 his brow, thanked each and all for their words, and 
 presented them in turn to Mrs. Hereward. 
 
 A gray-haired senator from the South a fine, 
 courtly old gentleman, of stately and gracious manner, 
 and with the pure and knightly devotion to women 
 that savored of the mediaeval age on being presented 
 to Hereward's lovely young wife, invited her to join 
 in the promenade, and with a smile, she arose and 
 took his arm, for she had been pleased and attracted 
 by the polished grace and elegance of this gentleman 
 of the old school. 
 
 They joined the promenaders. He talked no small 
 talk to Lilith. Looking down on her intellectual and 
 spiritual face, he spoke of her husband of his genius, 
 his statecraft, his eloquence, his patriotism, the great 
 promise of his future a future blended with the 
 future of his country. 
 
 And Lilith, leaning on his arm, hanging on his 
 words, lifting her lovely face to his, her starry eyes
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 full of the reverential admiration that excellent youth 
 must feel for honored age, listened in rapt delight to 
 his praises of Hereward. 
 
 They thus formed the most perfectly beautiful pic- 
 ture of youth and age. 
 
 Hereward scarcely gave any attention to the speech 
 of the men that were around him, often answering 
 their questions at random. He was watching Senator 
 
 and Lilith as they slowly passed and repassed be- 
 fore him. 
 
 "Ah!" said Hereward to himself. "I fear she is a 
 natural coquette, withal! Just to see how she basks 
 in that Chesterfield's admiration and flatteries! Oh! 
 why did I ever suffer myself to be persuaded, even 
 by my dying father, to marry a child I never loved 
 never can love and of whose parentage and heredi- 
 tary traits and taints I knew nothing? What shall I 
 do with her? Well, at any rate, I cannot let that gay 
 old Lothario pour any more of his soft nonsense into 
 her vain and credulous ears." 
 
 And with this resolve Hereward arose, saw a lady 
 of his acquaintance sitting alone, went up to her, 
 bowed, and invited her to join the promenade. 
 
 She arose, placed her hand in his arm, and per- 
 mitted him to lead her away. 
 
 But they did not immediately join the promenaders, 
 for Hereward waited until there was such an opening 
 in the procession as to allow him to glide in with his 
 companion just behind Senator and Lilith. Here- 
 ward did not talk to his companion; he listened to the 
 talk of the two who were before him; and this is what 
 he heard for his pains. The senator was speaking, and 
 Tudor caught just a fragment of his discourse: 
 
 "An illustrious career, my dear young lady." 
 
 "It makes me so happy to hear you say this, sena- 
 tor," replied Lilith, beaming up to the speaker's face. 
 
 "I have really more faith in Mr. Hereward in his
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 253 
 
 moral strength, intellectual power, pure patriotism, 
 and, above all, in his incorruptibility, either by ambi- 
 tion or avarice than I have in any other of the new 
 men thongh I have much faith in many of them," 
 continued the aged diplomat. 
 
 "His speech, delivered a few weeks ago on the new 
 tariff, was a masterpiece. The passage of the bill was 
 largely due to his strong arguments and his eloquence 
 in advancing them. You heard that speech?" 
 
 "Yes, senator." 
 
 "And you thought, no doubt, with us all, that it was 
 a masterpiece?" 
 
 "Yes; but I should not be sincere if I should leave 
 you to suppose that I assented to all the arguments 
 advanced by Mr. Hereward in favor of that new 
 .tariff," said Lilith. 
 
 "Ah!" said the diplomat, taken a little by surprise. 
 "You are, then, rather an advocate for free trade than 
 for a protective tariff." 
 
 "I hardly understand all the bearings of the ques- 
 tion. I only wish to be truthful, not presumptuous," 
 said Lilith. 
 
 "But, my dear young lady, you have an opinion and 
 a very decided one, as I can easily perceive. Will you 
 not give me 'a reason for the faith that is in you?' " 
 inquired the senator, looking gravely and respectfully 
 down on the little, lovely face. 
 
 "I do not know that I can give you a reason, sir 
 but it seems to me that we of this country are so rich 
 and prosperous and safe a people, that we rest on a 
 past of such solid foundation, and on a future of such 
 assured prosperity and progress in all good things, 
 that we can afford to be generous, as it is our bounden 
 duty to be, to all the people of the world's less 
 favored nations. It seems to me that we should open 
 our markets freely to the industries of all the people 
 of all nations on the earth, without restriction and
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 without fear. To me it seems that this highly-favored 
 country of ours is, indeed, the material New Jeru- 
 salem, given, not to us alone, but to all the people 
 of the earth. But pardon me, senator, these are only 
 the impressions of an inexperienced country girl." 
 
 Was the venerable diplomat drawing Lilith out? 
 Amusing himself with her naive and artless thoughts? 
 Hereward inquired of himself, as he listened to the 
 continued talk the senator evidently suggesting and 
 inspiring, and Lilith freer, more earnest and enthu- 
 siastic than Hereward had ever known her to be. 
 From the discussion of the new tariff they drifted to 
 that of the extension of the extradition treaties, which 
 was now the subject of debate in many political and 
 diplomatic circles. 
 
 And the old statesman smiled when his earnest 
 young companion said: 
 
 "It seems too savage, too barbarous, too unchris- 
 tianlike to hunt a fellow-creature all over the earth 
 to haul him back to prison or to death. Now if a 
 criminal flies the land he has injured by his crime 
 let him go. In the middle ages the church was the 
 sanctuary he who fled to the altar, ay, though he 
 were the blackest of criminals, without a friend in all 
 the world, and with all the powers and principalities 
 of the earth against him, yet he was safe in the shelter 
 of the church. So justice in the darkest age was 
 tempered with mercy." 
 
 "Yes, my dear young lady, because it was in the 
 darkest age. But we believe that a criminal should 
 never be allowed to escape justice; but that the whole 
 world should be in league to hunt him down and give 
 him up to suffer the penalties of his crime; and this 
 is an enlightened age." 
 
 "Is this an enlightened age, senator? Are we really 
 a civilized people?" wistfully inquired Lilith.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 255 
 
 "My dear young lady!" said the diplomat, in sur- 
 prise. Are we not so?" 
 
 "Sometimes I think that we are not. Sometimes I 
 fancy that the people of the future the people of, let 
 us say, A. D. 2000 may look back upon this nineteenth 
 century as a very dark age indeed! a very picturesque 
 and romantic period, with very dark shadows and very 
 tragic scenes in its history, and that children will read 
 with wonder and curiosity how in this dark nineteenth 
 century, nations had still to keep standing armies and 
 navies for protection against each other, and how 
 towns and cities had to support constabulary forces 
 to keep peace and order between friends and neigh- 
 bors. It seems to me that while we are making such 
 amazing progress in arts and sciences and in all the 
 appliances of comfort, convenience, luxury and ele- 
 gance, we are growing more and more selfish and self- 
 absorbed, more thoroughly armed for attack and de- 
 fence. And individual selfishness seems to have con- 
 gregated and consolidated into national selfishness. 
 Witness those two bills over which the House has 
 been quarreling for the last month." 
 
 "What does my friend Hereward say to these 
 opinions of yours, my dear young lady?" 
 
 "He " said Lilith, while a bright blush and a 
 bright smile lighted up her lovely face "he says that 
 I am a child an ignorant and inexperienced child, 
 whose opinions are based on feeling and not on rea- 
 son; and this may be true. But, senator," she said, 
 looking deferentially up into his fine old face, "you 
 are very indulgent to let me talk so freely of subjects 
 on which I have had no experience and can have but 
 little knowledge." 
 
 "I have listened to you with interest and pleasure, 
 my dear young lady," said the old gentleman, as he 
 gently caressed the little white-gloved hand that lay 
 upon his sleeve.
 
 256 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 Hereward, hearing all this talk, heard no word of 
 the "soft nonsense" he had predicted no word of 
 flattery or of compliment from the old statesman to 
 the young lady. When, therefore, Lilith's face had 
 lighted up with pleasure, it was not at praises ad- 
 dressed to herself, but of him, her husband! And all 
 the subsequent talk had been of political subjects 
 only. 
 
 "I must not fatigue you," said the old senator to his 
 young partner, as he left the line and led her back to 
 her husband, bowed with stately courtesy and walked 
 away. 
 
 Lilith was glad to be beside Hereward again. She 
 took her seat with a smile and looked in his face. But 
 his dark mood had not passed away. Certainly he had 
 not convicted his young wife of "flirting" with the old 
 senator. 
 
 The two happened to be seated alone on a short 
 corner sofa, and no one was very near them at the 
 moment. So Lilith said to him: 
 
 "You should have heard how highly Senator 
 
 spoke of your last speech, Tudor. And his opinion 
 must be worth more than that of any other man in 
 Congress, I should judge." 
 
 "You are not capable of judging, Lilith, and you 
 should not venture to speak of matters beyond your 
 comprehension. I did hear what the senator was good 
 enough to say of my efforts and of other matters; and 
 I also heard your immature opinions upon questions 
 that have confounded the wisest philosophers. You 
 should not presume to give opinions upon matters so 
 far beyond your comprehension," Hereward coldly re- 
 plied. 
 
 Lilith blushed crimson over face and neck; but re- 
 covered herself, and gently replied: 
 
 "I am very sorry, Tudor, but I must have been 
 either insincere or rude not to have done so; especially
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 257 
 
 when the senator was so kind as to inquire my 
 sentiments." 
 
 " 'Sentiments!' There you have used the right 
 word, my dear. Your young 'opinions' are no more 
 than sentiments. And the world is not governed by 
 sentiment." 
 
 Lilith had very little self-love to be wounded, else 
 surely she must have been deeply humiliated by this 
 contemptuous criticism. Yet she felt hurt. 
 
 Lilith could not know that Tudor Hereward's 
 thoughts and feelings towards her were all affected by 
 his want of love for her and trust in her. 
 
 Lilith was innocent of this knowledge. Tudor was 
 her mentor, and his criticism had not wounded the 
 self-esteem that she did not possess but filled her 
 with a paralyzing self doubt. 
 
 Silence had fallen between the pair, when a small 
 group of acquaintances drifted towards them. In this 
 group was Judge Stretton, who was talking earnestly 
 
 with that young foreigner nephew of the P 
 
 minister who bore so startling a likeness to Mr. 
 Alfred Ancillon, the universal stage genius. 
 
 Judge Stretton stopped and gayly saluted Mr. and 
 Mrs. Here ward, with both of whom he was well ac- 
 quainted, and then he begged permission to present 
 his friend, Seuor Don Alphonzo Mendoza-Leon-y- 
 Zuniga, of P . 
 
 The stranger made a profound bow, which was 
 stiffly returned by Mr. Hereward, who was covertly 
 watching to see how Lilith would receive the Seuor, 
 who, on being presented to the young beauty, made 
 even a more profound obeisance, which Lilith returned 
 with a smile and a graceful inclination of her head, 
 while her color came and went, and a slight tremor 
 shook her frame. 
 
 Nothing of all this escaped the eyes of Tudor Here- 
 ward, not even the almost imperceptible start with
 
 258 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 which the stranger first met her eyes and which 
 looked to those jaundiced orbs like a surprised recogni- 
 tion. 
 
 Yet it could not be possible these two had ever met 
 before, he thought. 
 
 Was it quite impossible that the elegant youth, 
 whom he had seen in the character of Mazeppa and 
 under the name of Alfred Ancillon, should be in fact 
 the young Senor Don Alphonzo Mendoza-Leon-y- 
 
 Zuniga, nephew to the P minister? Had he not 
 
 really gone to California, as had been announced, but 
 had he returned like the Prodigal Son to his father, 
 or, for w r ant of a father, to his uncle? 
 
 It might be so. This supposititious case was not 
 without parallels in life. 
 
 Did Lilith know of all this? 
 
 The gossip at Frosthill had said that she had met 
 this Mr. Alfred Ancillon somewhere in the North 
 while making a summer tour with her foster-father 
 though how they could have known that fact, if it was 
 a fact, seemed a mystery. 
 
 But had she ever met him before? And, if so, had 
 she met him under any other name than that of An- 
 cillon if he had any other? 
 
 And Hereward drew his own conclusions. 
 
 But only for a few moments did the knight thus 
 bow before the lady. 
 
 With a profound obeisance to both Mr. and Mrs. 
 Hereward he soon glided away. 
 
 The reception was at its height. But still the East 
 Room was not crowded. Although a stream of new 
 arrivals entered at one door, another stream of early 
 departures went out through another. 
 
 "Have you had enough of this, Lilith?" inquired 
 Mr. Hereward, somewhat coldly. 
 
 "Yes, Tudor," replied the young wife, wearily, as 
 she arose and took his offered arm.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 259 
 
 He led her down the steps and placed her in her 
 seat, entered and sat down by her side. The carriage 
 immediately rolled off. 
 
 Since leaving the East Room, Hereward had not 
 spoken one word to his young wife. 
 
 She felt the silence oppressive, and, child-like, broke 
 at a venture: 
 
 "Have you enjoyed the evening, Tudor?" she in- 
 quired. 
 
 "Not this evening very particularly," he answered, 
 in a voice so cold as to chill her into silence that lasted 
 all through the ride and all through the evening as 
 well. 
 
 It was half-past twelve when they reached their 
 hotel. 
 
 Tudor had not spoken again and Lilith dared not do 
 so. Thus for the first time in their short married life, 
 the newly married pair retired without even bidding 
 good-night to each other. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE STORM GATHERS 
 
 Dark lowers the tempest overhead. 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 THE next day, and for many days after the eventful 
 evening of the President's reception, Tudor Hereward 
 scarcely spoke to his young wife, except to ask some 
 necessary question or to give some order, and then he 
 addressed her in the fewest words and in the coldest 
 tones. 
 
 Lilith, depressed and intimidated by his forbidding
 
 260 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 manner, never ventured to utter a word except in 
 reply to him. 
 
 He no longer permitted her to assist him in his cor- 
 respondence or any other business, and, in truth, he 
 no longer needed her services as he had done; for his 
 work was not now nearly so pressing as it had been 
 in the early weeks of the session. 
 
 One morning, when he was about to leave their 
 room and go to the Capitol for the whole day, she took 
 heart of grace and stood before him, looked up in his 
 face with her honest, loving, dark eyes, and put the 
 direct question: 
 
 "Tudor, have I offended you in any way? Are you 
 angry with me?" 
 
 He looked down on her with cold, steel-gray eyes 
 and answered: 
 
 "Angry with you? Angry with a midge? You do 
 yourself too much honor," and he turned away con- 
 temptuously and left her standing there, wounded to 
 the very soul. 
 
 Women so wronged, so insulted, so outraged by 
 those the} 7 love, and having no others in the world to 
 soothe, comfort or advise them, have been driven to 
 desperate deeds deeds of madness. 
 
 Lilith felt the temptation in all its terrible strength; 
 but she did not for one moment dream of yielding to 
 it. Lilith, young as she was, scarcely past childhood, 
 had already learned the difficult lesson of self-con- 
 trol. 
 
 She stood quite still for a few minutes, then locked 
 her chamber and went and kneeled down beside her 
 bed, and with meek, child-like faith, sought help and 
 guidance where prayer was never yet offered in vain. 
 
 She arose calmed and strengthened. She felt that 
 she must not sit still in her room all day and brood. 
 She must go out and do something do some good
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 261 
 
 thing, relieve some distress, help some one who needed 
 help. 
 
 She put on her sealskin jacket and hat, took her 
 little satchel and went out. 
 
 She had a very definite plan in her mind. She 
 walked to the Rectory of Trinity Church, the church 
 in which she attended divine service, and sent in her 
 card to the rector. 
 
 She was immediately shown into the study and cor- 
 dially received. 
 
 "How can I be so happy as to serve you, my dear 
 lady?" kindly inquired Dr. . 
 
 "By directing me in some work that I wish to set 
 about, if you please, doctor." 
 
 "Ah ah!" murmured the rector, a little doubtfully, 
 
 "It is not much that I require of you, sir," said 
 Lilith, "only this: I have some means and a vast deal 
 of leisure time at my disposal, that I do not know what 
 to do with. I think it is wrong that both should be 
 wasted. I only wish you to give me a list of such 
 worthy objects of charity as you may know, that I 
 may have the pleasure of relieving them." 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Hereward, I beg your pardon. It is not 
 many young persons living at a fashionable hotel in 
 this gay capital who would choose to devote their 
 spare time and means to works of charity. Certainly 
 I will give you all the help in your good work that I 
 can. Shall I give you one or two cases for to-day?" 
 
 "If you please, doctor." 
 
 The list was made out and handed over, and Lilith, 
 with thanks, took leave. 
 
 All that day she spent in going from hovel to tene- 
 ment, and from tenement to hovel, witnessing such 
 scenes of misery as she had never even dreamed of in 
 her happy country home; and forgetting all her own 
 troubles, she experienced something like the hap- 
 piness of angels in ministering to the poor, relieving
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 the distressed and changing tears and murmurs into 
 smiles and thanksgivings. 
 
 "What has the gay world to give me in exchange 
 for the happiness I have had to-day, in making others 
 happy?'' she said, as at last she turned her steps 
 towards her hotel. 
 
 It had come on to rain, in one of those sudden 
 showers so frequent in the early spring of our climate. 
 
 Lilith had brought no umbrella or waterproof, so 
 she was scudding along the avenue, as fast as she 
 could go, to get in before the rain, which was only 
 drizzling now, should come down in a flood; when a 
 step came to her side, an umbrella over her head, and 
 a voice in her ear, saying: 
 
 "Permit me, sefiora." Lilith slackened her speed, 
 and still happy in the happiness she had given 
 beamed on the young foreigner, thanked him for the 
 shelter of his umbrella and without hesitation ac- 
 cepted the support of his arm. 
 
 They walked on towards the hotel, and had just 
 reached it, when Tudor Hereward stepped dow r n from 
 the piazza, hoisted his own umbrella and met his 
 wife. 
 
 The young foreigner bowed and smiled as he yielded 
 up his charge to her rightful owner. 
 
 Mr. Hereward coldly thanked him for his courtesy 
 and led Lilith up to their own apartment. 
 
 As soon as they had reached it and he had shut the 
 door, he turned upon her with a brow as black as a 
 thunder cloud and demanded: 
 
 "Where have you been? How came that man in 
 your company?" 
 
 Lilith dropped into her chair, all the bright glow 
 dying out of her face and leaving it pale as death. 
 
 "I ask you where you have been, and how that man 
 came to be with you?" he demanded, more sharply, 
 because she had hesitated to answer.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 263 
 
 "I have been to see some poor people who were 
 
 recommended to me by Dr. . I was caught in the 
 
 rain coming home, and Seiior Alphonzo saw me, I sup- 
 pose, for he came up from behind and put his umbrella 
 over my head, and was very kind and courteous. This 
 was only about five minutes before we reached the 
 hotel, Tudor," she said, in a cowering tone. 
 
 "Ah!" he said, with scornful incredulity. 
 
 "Tudor! I hope you do not doubt my word. I am 
 sure no one ever doubted me before. But if you do, 
 
 you can easily satisfy yourself. You can ask Dr. 
 
 about the people he sent me to see to-day; and you can 
 follow in my footsteps and ascertain for yourself 
 whether I really went to see them or not." 
 
 "Can you really believe that I could go through the 
 city asking questions about my wife?" he bitterly 
 demanded. 
 
 "No, no; of course not. I did not mean that; but 
 you could find out without putting a question," she 
 pleaded. 
 
 After this it pleased Tudor Hereward that his lovely 
 young wife should go more into society than she had 
 been accustomed to do, and to please him she accepted 
 every invitation to parties, save those of which dan- 
 cing formed part of the evening's entertainment. 
 These she declined on the ground of being in deep 
 mourning. 
 
 And everywhere she was particularly sought out by 
 Seiior Alphonzo, who always gave her as much of his 
 society and attentions as circumstances permitted him 
 to do. 
 
 And still Tudor Hereward was haunted by a sus- 
 picion that Seiior Alphonzo and Monsieur Alfred An- 
 cillon were one and the same person, and nothing but 
 his respect for the convenances of good society pre- 
 vented him from putting an abrupt stop to all ac- 
 quaintance between Lilith and the senor.
 
 264 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 One day he put an abrupt question to her, and 
 watched her face as she replied to it. 
 
 "Lilith, had you ever met Senor Alphonzo before 
 he was presented to us at the President's reception?" 
 
 "Never," replied the young wife. "Why do you 
 ask?" 
 
 " 'For the satisfaction of my thought/ " he quoted ; 
 and no more was said. 
 
 Still he could not banish his suspicion that SeSor 
 Alphonzo and Monsieur Ancillon were identical, and 
 that Lilith knew it, until one day, on picking up one 
 of the morning papers, under the heading of MUSICAL 
 AND DRAMATIC, he read the following note: 
 
 "Monsieur Alfred Ancillon, whose rendition of 
 Mazeppa in this city some weeks since, will be remem- 
 bered by our play-going community as one of the 
 finest pieces of the dramatic art ever witnessed, is 
 now winning fresh laurels and in more than one 
 sense of the word 'golden opinions' from all sorts of 
 people in the Golden State. Mr. Ancillon expects to 
 sail early next month for Australia, where he proposes 
 to spend a year." 
 
 "Ah, then, after all, startling as is the likeness, 
 there is no longer any question that they are two 
 men," said Tudor Hereward, following out his 
 thought: 
 
 "However, I am glad the fellow is going to the an- 
 tipodes, and I heartily wish that he may stay there," 
 he continued, mentally. 
 
 But still his jealousy of the seiior did not abate. 
 
 "Why does Lilith tolerate the monkey?" he asked 
 himself. "Is it for his likeness to Ancillon, or is it for 
 himself alone? Has he supplanted monsieur and suc- 
 ceeded him in my lady's fickle fancy? I will find out." 
 
 One day he broached the subject to his young wife.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 265 
 
 "Lilith," he said, "I think you told me that you had 
 never met Sefior Don Alphonzo Mendoza-Leon-y- 
 Zuniga until he was introduced to us on the occasion 
 of our first visit to the White House?" 
 
 "Yes, Tudor, I told you so," replied Lilith, wonder- 
 ing. 
 
 "And you never had seen him before?" 
 
 "Certainly not, since I told you so, Tudor," she re- 
 plied, with a certain gentle dignity. 
 
 "Then why, may I ask you, Lilith, did you feel and 
 betray so much emotion at the sight of this man, 
 whom you persist in saying that you had never met 
 before?" he demanded, fixing his eyes on her troubled 
 face for she was always troubled now whenever 
 Hereward spoke of the young foreigner. 
 
 "Did I? Did I, Tudor?" she inquired, in distress. 
 
 "You did. And I ask you now what I have a right 
 to ask why you betrayed so much emotion at the 
 sight of this man, whom you say you never saw 
 before?" 
 
 "Oh," said the young wife, beginning to tremble and 
 turn pale, "I think it was because because " 
 
 "Of his likeness to Monsieur Ancillon?" sternly de- 
 manded Hereward. 
 
 "Yes," said Lilith, in an almost expiring voice. 
 
 "That is enough," he said. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 TUDOR HEREWARD'S RESOLVE 
 
 "IT is enough," repeated Tudor Hereward; and no 
 words can express the grimness of his look or the in- 
 tensity of his suppressed rage, as he took his hat and 
 left the room.
 
 266 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "What have I done? Oh, what have I done to lose 
 my husband's esteem and affection?" said Lilith to 
 herself, as she sank back in her chair and covered her 
 face with her hands. "I have tried my best to de- 
 serve both. It was my heart's dearest wish to be of 
 service to him, my soul's ambition to become neces- 
 sary, and even, if possible, indispensable to him. And 
 now, now! He is so changed! so changed! He is 
 angry with me suspicious of me. He will not let 
 me help him any longer. Nothing that I do or leave 
 undone seems right in his sight. Oh! if I had any 
 good and wise friend with whom to take counsel! 
 What can have caused this change? It is not the 
 secret the secret which is not mine to tell, but which 
 I must continue to keep from him oh! how unwill- 
 ingly! No, it is not the secret, for he does not even 
 suspect that I have one. Let me see! Let me look 
 back! When did this frost that has blighted our 
 peace set in? It was on the evening of his visit to 
 the Varieties, to see Monsieur Ancillon in his great 
 character of Mazeppa. He came home and questioned 
 me closely about Monsieur Ancillon, his storm-bound 
 stay at the Cliffs, his age, his looks, our occupations 
 and amusements, and from that evening began the 
 change! And now good heavens!" exclaimed the 
 young wife, as the truth suddenly broke on her broke 
 over her and suffused face, neck and bosom with burn- 
 ing blushes for the perception that she would not even 
 put in words scarcely in thought that her husband 
 was jealous of Alfred Ancillon! 
 
 Never in her life before could Lilith, in her high, 
 serene purity of soul, have imagined such a depth of 
 humiliation as she suffered now. 
 
 "Oh!" she murmured, pressing her hands together, 
 in the intense distress she felt; "oh, that my dear fos- 
 ter-father, Tudor's father, were but living! He would 
 never dream of such an impossibility as any doubt of
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 267 
 
 his child's love and faith of heart and life! But, then, 
 he knew me so well that he could never be mistaken 
 in me." 
 
 While Lilith was grieving over her husband's in- 
 fatuation, he, Tudor Hereward, had walked rapidly 
 down the avenue to the Capitol Park, which was at 
 this hour deserted except by the night watch. 
 
 Turning into one of the walks where he felt rea- 
 sonably sure of being alone, he sauntered on, rumina- 
 ting over the misfortune that had made him the hus- 
 band of Lilith Wyvil. 
 
 "Better far better that I had been left to drown, 
 that then and there I should have perished, rather 
 than that my life should have been saved at such a 
 cost! The cost of two lives laid down for mine, and 
 the greater cost of my own life-long penalty in paying 
 that sacred debt! What did I know of this girl whom 
 I married? Nothing, or next to nothing! 
 
 "Not that I believe for an instant that Lilith, in all 
 her weakness and folly, could wrong me in the gravest 
 sense of that word! But she has, through her fancy, 
 vanity and imagination, allowed her affections to stray 
 towards this young player! living out her hereditary 
 plebeian instincts! Why, she cannot even meet a man 
 in society who may happen to look like this Ancillon 
 curse him without betraying herself! 
 
 "But I must prevent that. I must take her down 
 into the country. She will be safe now at the Cliffs. 
 Ancillon is in San Francisco, where he is likely to stay 
 for a while, and then to sail for Australia." 
 
 Having come to this conclusion, Tudor Hereward 
 turned to retrace his steps to his hotel. 
 
 He hurried to his hotel, and went upstairs to his 
 room. 
 
 He found Lilith still seated in the arm-chair where 
 he had left her, but looking paler, wearier and more 
 listless than she had ever been.
 
 268 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Lilith," lie said, throwing himself into another 
 chair, "I wish you to pack a valise with what is neces- 
 sary for you and myself on the journey. We leave 
 here for West Virginia by the nine o'clock train to- 
 morrow morning." 
 
 "We leave here! to-morrow morning!" exclaimed 
 Lilith, almost breathless with surprise at this sudden 
 announcement. 
 
 "Yes," was the curt answer. 
 
 "But, can you can you be spared from your seat, 
 Tudor," she hesitatingly inquired. 
 
 "At this juncture, I can." 
 
 "And you said West Virginia! Are you going to 
 Frosthill? to Cloud Cliffs?" 
 
 "Yes; if you have no objection." 
 
 "Oh, no, Tudor. I shall be very glad to go. How 
 long shall we stay?" 
 
 "I shall stay but one night. You will remain there 
 for the present." 
 
 "You you mean to take me there and leave me, 
 Tudor?" she inquired, with a tremor in her voice. 
 
 "Decidedly, yes, I do. I think the air of the city 
 unhealthy for you; the seclusion of the country suits 
 you best." 
 
 She arose and went about her little task of packing 
 a valise with what was most necessary for their 
 journey. 
 
 "You need not take much. I shall only want a 
 change, and you but little more, for I shall send your 
 trunks after you. All I want now is to take you away 
 from the city as soon as possible," he said, coldly and 
 hardly. 
 
 She stood beside the open valise and looked at him 
 with her dark eyes full of trouble. 
 
 Then suddenly she went to him, dropped her head 
 on his shoulder, and said:
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 269 
 
 "Oh, Tudor! do not send me a way from you! Ob, 
 Tudor! there is not one pulse in my heart that is not 
 true to you!" 
 
 "Rather mortifying that my wife should think it 
 necessary to tell me that she is honest," sneered the 
 angry and jealous husband. 
 
 "Tudor! Tudor! how have I been so unfortunate as 
 to have displeased you? Oh! tell me, Tudor! Tell 
 me! Tell me how I have offended you," she pleaded. 
 
 He repelled her caress, and answered, coldly: 
 
 "I will not. Listen to me, Lilith, and mark what I 
 say: The hour in which I shall find it necessary to 
 accuse you, will be the hour in which we part forever! 
 So pray take heed to yourself, my lady." 
 
 She raised her eyes in sorrowful amazement, and 
 then without a word went from his side and resumed 
 her packing. 
 
 Nor was another syllable spoken between the 
 estranged pair that night. 
 
 Early the next morning they left Washington by the 
 nine o'clock train for West Virginia. 
 
 It was a fine day in the early spring, yet there were 
 but few travelers on the train. 
 
 The slow hours of the journey passed almost in total 
 silence between the pair. 
 
 When at one o'clock the train reached "Morgan's 
 Station," where ten minutes' stop was allowed for 
 refreshments, Hereward spoke for the first time to 
 Lilith. 
 
 "Will you come out and have something?" 
 
 "No, thank you, Tudor," she replied, in a low, 
 tremulous tone that she could scarcely command. 
 
 He did not press the question, but left the train, 
 with other passengers, and went into "Morgan's Re- 
 freshment Saloons," which in the old staging days 
 used to be "Morgan's Tavern." 
 
 A few minutes later, when all the passengers had
 
 270 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 again taken their seats, Hereward drew a fresh packet 
 of tablets from his pocket and began to make notes 
 for some forthcoming debate or speech in the House, 
 of course. And at this work, writing slowly and with 
 many pauses for reflection, he continued until six 
 o'clock, when the shrill warning whistle blew, and the 
 train "slowed" and ran into the Frosthill station. 
 
 They had to wait only a few moments. The one car- 
 riage from the hotel which was usually on hand to 
 meet the incoming train, now drove up to the station, 
 a few minutes later than ordinarily. 
 
 Hereward signaled Lilith to come out of the wait- 
 ing-room, and when she did so he put her into the 
 carriage, followed and seated himself by her side, and 
 ordered the coachman to drive out to Cloud Cliffs. 
 
 The sun had set; the angry red clouds were heaped 
 mountain high on the western horizon; the wind was 
 blowing a gale; the weather had become severely cold. 
 
 Hereward, turning to his companion, tucked her fur- 
 lined mantle closely about her, and pulled down the 
 curtains on her side to keep out all the draught. 
 
 Lilith, encouraged by this little show of attention, 
 ventured a remark: 
 
 "They will be very much surprised to see us at the 
 Cliffs to-night, Tudor." 
 
 "I suppose so. It is well to take those who are 
 intrusted with our interests by surprise sometimes. 
 We may be surprised in our turn," he answered, 
 coldly. 
 
 "Oh, I do not think so in this case, Tudor. Our 
 servants are so faithful," said Lilith. 
 
 He made no reply to this and she was chilled into 
 silence again. 
 
 They were entering the long road through the 
 woods, leafless and spectral in the March night. 
 
 The drive continued in darkness and silence for 
 more than an hour before thev turned into the lodge
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 271 
 
 gate. In a few minutes they drew up before the house. 
 
 It was closed, silent, dark and deserted at least 
 to all appearance. 
 
 The driver jumped down from his box, opened the 
 carriage door and said: 
 
 "Marster, I doan see any lights nor likewise any- 
 body about. Hadn' I better go roun' de back an' see 
 ef I can fine any ob de colored people to come open 
 de do' fo' you an' de young mist'ess?" 
 
 "Yes, Phipps, do so," replied Hereward, abruptly 
 closing the carriage door to keep out the sharpness of 
 the wind. 
 
 The man seemed to have been gone but a few 
 moments when footsteps and lights were heard and 
 seen, in a hurly-burly of excitement, coming through 
 the house, the hall door was thrown open, and Nancy, 
 with all the household servants at her back, ran out 
 to welcome her master and her mistress. 
 
 Hereward had lifted Lilith out, and paid and dis- 
 charged the carriage, which rolled rapidly away. 
 
 "Come in, honey. You's mos' frozen. I's mighty 
 proud to see yer bofe. But w'y de name ob sense didn' 
 yer sen' me word yer was comin', so I might hab fires 
 kindle' in all de fireplaces, an' de rooms dried an' aired 
 for yer? Dat's wot I want to know now," said Nancy, 
 as she escorted her young mistress into the cold, damp, 
 musty-smelling hall. 
 
 "Mr. Hereward made up his mind quite suddenly to 
 come down. There was no time to write," gently re- 
 plied Lilith. 
 
 "Oh, Lor'! 'Deed it'll kill yer, ef yer stay yere. Bet- 
 ter come in de kitchen long ob me, till Alick make up 
 de fires! Marse Tudor, w'y in de name o' sense, didn' 
 yer write or teleg'aph, or somefin, to let us know yer 
 was comin', an' not bring de young mist'ess down so 
 sudden to sich a grabe-yard place as dis ole house is 
 in de winter time 'dout fires?"
 
 272 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 Without expecting any reply from the master of the 
 house, she hurried Lilith off to the great square stone 
 kitchen in the rear of the house, where a fine fire of 
 hickory logs was blazing in the broad chimney. 
 
 Lilith went up to the welcome warmth and held out 
 her half-frozen hands. 
 
 "Gassy," she said to the cook, who was waiting to be 
 noticed; "I want you to get the best supper you can, 
 at the shortest notice. Your master has had nothing 
 but a railway lunch since we left Washington this 
 morning." 
 
 "Yes, Miss Lilif. Yes, honey. Now yer jes leabe all 
 dat to my 'sources. I'll fix up all dat." 
 
 Lilith was soon made comfortable in her easy-chair, 
 in the corner of the chimney, with a warm mat under 
 her feet. 
 
 Mr. Hereward had not followed her into the kitchen. 
 He was somewhere in the house, probably overseeing 
 Alick in his work of kindling fires and airing rooms. 
 
 "Now I look at yer good, young mist'ess, I doan fink 
 yer look well at all. Wot's de matter wid yer, 
 honey?" inquired Nancy. 
 
 "Nothing is the matter with my health. I was 
 pinched with the cold when I came in," replied Lilith. 
 
 To change the subject, Lilith inquired: 
 
 "How is Alick? Is he any better than he was?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, Alick's come all right. Arter you and 
 Marse Tudor went to de city dat time, Alick come 
 sneakin' home. I was a great min' not to let him come 
 in de kitchen, but me an' him is ole fellow-servants, 
 so I didn' 'fuse him. An' he didn' show no signs ob 
 bein' out'n his head, 'cept by de queer questions he 
 axed." 
 
 "Questions?" 
 
 "Yes, honey. Impidint questions, I called 'em. He 
 ax how was de marster mad long o' you, w'en he come 
 home; an' how did he 'quire arter him, Alick, an' was
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 273 
 
 lie gwine to shoot anybody. I shet him up mighty 
 quick, I tell yer, young mist'ess; an' since dat Alick 
 has been as good as goole." 
 
 At this moment Cely, the little housemaid, came 
 into the kitchen and said: 
 
 "Dere's a great, big, fine fire in yer room, Miss Lilif. 
 and eberyfing fix comfo'ble for yer, ef yer likes to go 
 upsta'rs." 
 
 "Yes, I will go; I want to get off my heavy wraps i 
 and thick boots," said Lilith, rising. 
 
 Her own chamber, when she reached it, was very 
 pleasant, comfortable and attractive. 
 
 A great fire had been kindled, and then all the 
 windows had been opened to allow the high, dry 
 March wind to blow freely through the room for a 
 few minutes, and then they had been closed. And 
 now the atmosphere was at once fresh and warm. 
 
 Warm water and clean towels were on the wash- 
 stand. 
 
 Lilith laid off her hat and cloak, washed her face 
 and hands, brushed out and put up her hair, and then 
 sat down before the fire. 
 
 " Where is Mr. Hereward, do you know?" she in- 
 quired of the little maid. 
 
 "Marse Tudor in de parlor, talkin' long ob Alick. 
 Beckon he's axin' Alick how de farm is gettin' on," 
 replied Cely^ 
 
 Cely was right enough in her facts, but all wrong in 
 her deductions. 
 
 Mr. Hereward was in the parlor talking with Alick, 
 certainly, but not of farm affairs. 
 
 This was the very first time he had seen Alick since 
 the morning of his arrival, some weeks before, when 
 the negro man astonished him by taking to his heels 
 and running away. 
 
 Now he entered the parlor while Alick was engaged 
 in piling dry pine logs on a freshly kindled fire.
 
 274- THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Alick," said his master, so suddenly that the man 
 jumped as if he had been jerked up "Alick, do you 
 remember a letter you wrote to me last January?" 
 
 "Now, Lor 5 'a' messy 'pon top o' my po' brack soul, 
 how de sins do fine us out!" said the man, backing 
 himself up against the chimney corner for support. 
 
 "Answer me! Do you remember that letter?" 
 sternly demanded Mr. Hereward. 
 
 "Now, Lor', Marse Tudor, yer ain't gwine to go 
 r-ippin' up dat ole 'fence 'g'in me, is yer?" stuttered 
 the delinquent, with chattering teeth. 
 
 "I ask you, do you remember that letter?" sharply 
 reiterated Mr. Hereward. 
 
 Alick's eyes rolled and his teeth chattered. He 
 scratched his head, and then answered, boldly: 
 
 "Letter? Wot letter? No, young marse, I doan 
 'member nuffin' 'bout no letter. W'ich I was hopes as 
 yer had nebber 'ceived dat letter, or else as yer had 
 forgot all 'bout it. Anyways, I doan know nuffin 
 'bout no letter." 
 
 "The letter you wrote me in last January, you vil- 
 lain! The letter in which you spoke of your mistress' 
 visitor!" sternly exclaimed Mr. Hereward. 
 
 "Now, wot letter was dat, ag'in?" said Alick, 
 scratching his head and pretending to ransack his 
 memory with a puzzled air. 
 
 "Oh, you doubly deceitful wretch! You know well 
 enough what letter it was. The one which you 
 wrote " 
 
 "Now, dere, young marse; dere. Ef it war de las' 
 word I had to speak in dis worP I nebber writ no 
 letter. W'y, I nebber writ no letter in all my life. 
 I I dunno how to write. 'Deed it's de trufe," said 
 Alick, with the most confident look of injured in- 
 nocence. 
 
 "Why, you prevaricating rascal, if you did not 
 write the letter, you dictated it to the postmaster's
 
 boy who wrote it for you," angrily declared Mr. Here- 
 ward. 
 
 "Now jes' see dat now, how dat little young scamp 
 ob a boy done gone an' gib me away. An' I dunno nuf- 
 fin 'bout no letter neider. 'Deed, Lor' knows I didn' 
 write dat letter, marse." 
 
 "But you dictated it." 
 
 " 'Deed Lor' knows I nebber dictated it neider! 
 'Deed it's de trufe." 
 
 "If you did not, who did?" 
 
 "It was de debbil, sah. 'Deed it was de debbil. 
 'Deed it's de trufe." 
 
 "So," said Hereward, who was too familiar with the 
 negro's belief in the activity of a personal devil to be 
 the least surprised at this explanation. And he 
 dropped into an arm-chair to question the man fur- 
 ther. 
 
 "So it was the devil that sent you to Frosthill to get 
 that letter written to me?" 
 
 "Yes, marse, it was de debbil. Doan yer blame dis 
 po' nigger fo' it, marse. I couldn' help ob it. It was 
 de debbil a-pushin' an' a-pushin an' a-pushin' ob me 
 on to do it all de time." 
 
 "What reason did the foul fiend give you for doing 
 such a thing?" 
 
 "Yer mean him?" mysteriously inquired the negro. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, marse, he keep a-tellin' ob me as as yer 
 ought to be home to look arter de fam'ly, an' see into 
 de de visitors wot come " 
 
 "Meaning one visitor in particular." 
 
 "Ye ye yes, marse. But my Lor'-a-mity, marse, 
 doan go an' shoot nobody. Please doan. It's so 
 awful lonesome-like to have people shootin' and hang- 
 in' an' fings. 'Sides which, I rarely doan know nuffin 
 'bout no letter, an' I doan know wot yer talkin' 'bout 
 neider. 'Deed doan I. 'Deed it's de trufe."
 
 276 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "What was there in the conduct of this young man 
 who happened to be storm-bound here that induced 
 YOU or the devil to write that letter?" inquired 
 Hereward, ignoring the negro's relapses into denial. 
 
 "Conduck, young marse? Nuffin in de worP. Oh, 
 doan go gunnin' arter him, young marse. A more 
 nicerer or properer behaved young youf nebber come 
 into no house befo'. W'y, he was jes' like a young 
 minVer. He 'minded me ob de airly pieties wot allers 
 go to Heben young, in de Sunday-schools books, he 
 was dat sober-minded an' sankyfied." 
 
 "If such was the case, why did you write that letter, 
 or cause it to be written?" 
 
 "Hi, marse, wot I tell yer? 'Twa'n't me, it was de 
 debbil. He made me do it. I couldn' help myse'f to 
 save my life." 
 
 "And why do you suppose the enemy of mankind 
 wished you to do this particular piece of mischief?" 
 
 "I fought dat myse'f, marse, arterwards. I fought 
 what de name ob sense de debbil make po' me do 
 dat fer? An' I came to de 'elusion as de debbil want 
 me to aggrawate you to go gunnin' arter dat pious 
 young youf! 'Caze he is allers goin' 'bout like a 
 roarin' lion seekin' whom he may 'wour. 'Deed it's de 
 trufe." 
 
 "Very well," he said, at length, looking steadily into 
 the half frightened, half obstinate face of the negro. 
 "Very well. I am willing on this occasion that the 
 broad back of the devil should bear the responsibility 
 of that letter. But hark you, sir. If you should ever 
 yield to the instigation of the evil one to write such 
 another letter to me, or to any one else I shall make 
 you wish you had never been born." 
 
 "Lor', young marse, dat would be nuffin new to me. 
 I done wish dat off en an' off en since de inimy writ dat 
 letter. 'Deed all de colored people 'bout yere could 
 tell yer as I was out ob my lunacies 'bout it, so feared
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 277 
 
 yer'd go gurmin' arter dat pious young youf wot de 
 debbil had a spite ag'in. I tell yer, young marse 
 
 ''There, that will do. I wish to hear no more about 
 the matter. Only mark my words and remember 
 them," said Hereward, whose patience had been tried 
 to the utmost. 
 
 His doubts, suspicions, and jealousies had been so 
 increased by the prevarications of the negro, that he 
 was in a most miserable mood when he finally arose to 
 go upstairs and get some of the railroad dust from his 
 face and hair. 
 
 As soon as he left the little parlor, the two house- 
 maids, Cely and Mandy, came in to lay the cloth for 
 supper there, because it was so much cosier than the 
 large dining-room. 
 
 Half an hour later, Hereward and Lilith were seated 
 at a dainty yet substantial meal, which they might 
 have enjoyed well had not the cloud between them 
 overshadowed and dampened the spirits of both. 
 
 When the meal was about half over, Hereward 
 beckoned Alick, who was waiting on the table, to come 
 to his side. And when the man obeyed, he said: 
 
 "Tell the cook that I shall want a cup of coffee at 
 half-past five to-morrow morning. Tell Stephen to 
 have the buggy at the door by a quarter to six. I wish 
 to take the seven-thirty train to Washington to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "Ye yes, sah. Yes, sah!" promptly responded the 
 man, astonished, but too frightened and anxious upon 
 many accounts to let his astonishment be seen. 
 
 Lilith looked up in involuntary surprise and pain. It 
 was to herself that he should first have announced his 
 early departure; yet he had given her no hint of it. 
 It was through her that he should have given his 
 orders to the cook, yet he had not done so. It was 
 almost an insult to have ignored her in that pointed
 
 278 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 manner. Yet she tried to repudiate the thought that 
 he had intended to humiliate her before the household. 
 
 "I must not be morbid or touchy. I must not fancy 
 myself ill used. I will not do so. Tudor does not know 
 how could he know? that my dear father his 
 father gave all his orders to the house servants 
 through me and that they are not accustomed to any 
 other rule. But what does it matter? How querulous 
 I am getting! Heaven help me," she said, taking her- 
 self roundly to task for her feeling of mortification. 
 
 But Hereward never addressed a word to her dur- 
 ing supper. 
 
 And immediately afterward he retired to his little 
 study, where a fire had been kindled, and where his 
 overseer, who had heard of his arrival, was waiting to 
 see him, and there, upon excuse of business, he spent 
 the night, first in going over the farm books with the 
 manager, and afterwards, when left alone, in writing. 
 
 Lilith went to her chamber, where she found Nancy 
 ready to serve her in any affectionate manner that 
 was needed. 
 
 "I think I will go immediately to bed. I feel very, 
 very tired," she said, wearily, as she dropped into her 
 chair before the fire. 
 
 "Yer looks as if yer wasn ? o'ny tired ob trabellin', 
 but tired ob life itse'f," said the nurse, looking sorrow- 
 fully into the pale face and heavy eyes of her young 
 mistress. 
 
 And then Nancy knelt at her feet to take off her 
 shoes and hose. 
 
 Lilith was so prostrated in mind and body that as 
 soon as she lay down in her bed the blessed rest of 
 sleep stole over the weary heart and brain. So deep 
 and so long was that sleep of exhaustion that it was 
 late when she awoke. The sun was shining so brightly 
 through the chinks in the window shutters that Lilith 
 knew the morning was advanced. She sat up in bed
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 279 
 
 and rubbed her eyes. Then she noticed that the 
 second pillow on the bed was perfectly smooth. Her 
 husband had not been in the room all night. She 
 sprang out of bed and looked at her watch. It was 
 seven o'clock. Then she rang her bell. 
 
 The housekeeper answered it by entering the room. 
 
 "Nancy, where is Mr. Hereward?" she inquired. 
 
 "He is gone, honey. How does yer feel dis 
 mornin'?" 
 
 "Gone! Mr. Hereward gone?" exclaimed Lilith, 
 incredulously. 
 
 "Yes, honey; he went away mor'n an hour ago. 
 How does yer feel this mornin', honey?" 
 
 "Gone? Without taking leave of me?" 
 
 "Yes, gone. He wouldn't let yer be 'sturbed. He 
 say yer was tired an' needed res'. It was berry 
 t'oughtful ob de young marse, 'caze so yer did need 
 res'. An' I hope it has done yer good. Yer's had a 
 good long sleep. How does yer feel dis mornin', any- 
 how, honey?" 
 
 "Oh, Nancy, Nancy! Why did you let Mr. Hereward 
 go off without taking leave of me? Oh, why, w r hy did 
 you not call me?" demanded Lilith, in a tone of sor- 
 rowful reproach. 
 
 "Hi, now, Miss Lilif, honey, is I de marster ob de 
 house? Sure I did want to call yer, an' 'posed it 
 sev'ral times, but Marse Tudor wouldn' 'low it. 
 Wouldn' hear ob it, I tell yer, honey. An' yer know 
 w'en de young marse put his foot down dere it is! 
 An' w'en he say so an' so, it is so an' so! 'Deed I's 
 sorry enuff, Miss Lilif, but I couldn' help ob it, honey." 
 
 "Did Gassy have a good breakfast ready in time?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, honey, fus' rate. Good coffee an' buck- 
 cakes, an' ham an' eggs, an' chicken. Now doan yer 
 go an' take on 'bout not seein' him off. De young 
 marse was t'oughtful 'bout your res' an' comfort, 
 honey, he was. An' yer know gem'en frinks a great
 
 280 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 deal more 'bout bodily ease an' healf an' dat dan dey 
 does 'bout de 'fec-tions ob de heart. Dey ain't 'fection- 
 ate as we is, honey, an' yer needn't s'pect 'em to be, 
 neider. La! de young marster is a berry fine gem'an, 
 an' a berry good an' great one; but la! he's on'y a 
 man; so wot could yer s'pect? Dey doan mean no 
 harm, honey, when dey walks ober yer feelin's. Dey 
 doan know no better, chile, 'deed dey doan. 'Deed it's 
 de trufe." 
 
 "Oh, Nancy! please, please don't talk any more 
 about it," said Lilith, turning her face to the wall and 
 covering her head to hide her tears. 
 
 Not long did she indulge her grief. By the time that 
 Nancy had unpacked her mistress' dressing-gown and 
 hung it over the back of her rocking-chair before the 
 fire, and laid the slippers on the rug, Lilith arose. 
 
 The March wind was still blowing a hurricane and 
 the house was intensely cold, except in those rooms 
 where great fires were kindled. 
 
 Yet, as Lilith could not rest in any place, as soon as 
 she had dressed and breakfasted she wrapped a shawl 
 around her and went through all parts of the mansion, 
 opening closed chambers and closets, examining old 
 stores of household linen, china and plate, all of 
 which she found in such good condition that she com- 
 plimented Nancy on her housekeeping. 
 
 So passed this day, which was Saturday. 
 
 On Sunday morning the wind storm seemed at its 
 height, but the sky was clear and bright, and the 
 ground from which the snow had gone for many days, 
 was hard frozen, rendering the roads good for travel- 
 ing; so Lilith determined to go to church. 
 
 She went in the closed carriage, driven by Stephen. 
 
 On reaching the building she had only time to pass 
 into lier pew just before the services began. 
 
 The rector, Mr. Cave, was in the pulpit, as usual, 
 and the church was quite full. Lilith knew from the
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 281 
 
 general appearance of the congregation that all her 
 friends and neighbors must be present. 
 
 But she was too devout to look around for individual 
 recognition. 
 
 As the services went on, her perturbed spirit was 
 soothed and strengthened. 
 
 The text was a peculiarly comforting one to her: 
 
 "And God shall wipe away tears from all faces." 
 
 " 'All faces/ " responded Lilith, in her loving heart. 
 " 'All faces.' Not a few favored ones, but from all 
 'all faces,' God will wipe away the tears." 
 
 The discourse that followed the text was strong, 
 tender and comforting, like all the utterances of Mr. 
 Cave. 
 
 Lilith, as well as others, was greatly cheered and 
 consoled. 
 
 When the services were over, and the benediction 
 had been pronounced, Lilith left the church, to find 
 herself surrounded in the churchyard by all her 
 friends and neighbors, who expressed equal surprise 
 and pleasure at seeing her. 
 
 They had not heard of her arrival at the Cliffs. 
 
 "When did you come, my dear?" inquired Mrs. Jor- 
 don, who was among the first to greet her. 
 
 Lilith told her. 
 
 "And Mr. Hereward? He is with you, of course." 
 
 "No; Mr. Hereward only brought me down on Fri- 
 day and returned yesterday," Lilith explained. 
 
 "Ah! he could not remain absent from his post. But 
 you are not looking well, love. Washington did not 
 agree with you," continued the lady. 
 
 "Mr. Hereward thought it best for me to come down 
 here," said Lilith. 
 
 "Lilith, my love," said Mrs. Jordon, "I am going 
 to-morrow to Kushmore, to spend a few days with
 
 282 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 Hilary. Won't you come, like a darling, to help me 
 bear the racket at 'Headlong Hall?' " 
 
 "Don't do it, Mrs. Here ward," exclaimed old Jab, in 
 his shrillest tone. "The place is more of a lunatic 
 asylum than ever. My mad step-son has bitten several 
 of the negroes, and they have all gone raving mad." 
 
 Mrs. Jab laughed. 
 
 "It is true, Lilith. But it is amusing. Do you 
 remember Jupe? He is more stage-struck than his 
 young master, and he is crazy to have the possessor of 
 Rushmore Manors sell out his patrimonial estate and 
 invest in the traveling circus and wild beast business." 
 
 "My dear friends," expostulated the doctor, "I am 
 tempted to leave you all to your own devices, and 
 allow you to catch pleurisies and pneumonias by 
 standing out here in this wind x so that I may have 
 plenty of practice, but conscience won't allow me to 
 do it. Get into your carriages and go home. I set the 
 example. Good-morning to one and all." 
 
 With these words the jolly doctor handed Lilith into 
 her carriage, and then got into his own gig and drove 
 off. 
 
 Lilith went home through the spectral, wintry 
 woods, lifting their skeleton branches to the cold, 
 bright blue sky. 
 
 Lilith was feeling happier; the consoling and 
 strengthening promises of the Word; the hearty and 
 affectionate greeting of her friends all these had 
 cheered her heart and raised her spirits; and the drive 
 through the woods in the keen March air had given 
 color to her pale cheeks, so that on reaching home 
 Nancy received her with an exclamation. 
 
 "W'y, honey, yer looks like anoder pusson, 'deed 
 does yer! Yer ought to go out ebery day; 'deed yer 
 ought." 
 
 Lilith smiled and promised that she would do so. 
 
 Accordingly, on Monday morning the young mis-
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 283 
 
 tress of the manor said that she herself would drive 
 to the village to get her letters, if there should be any 
 for her; and she ordered the pony chaise to be brought 
 to the door. 
 
 When Lilith reached the village and entered the 
 postoffice, the postmaster exclaimed aloud, with sur- 
 prise : 
 
 "Why, my dear madam, I thought you had gone 
 back to the city with Mr. Hereward! And only half 
 an hour ago, under that impression, I acted on gen- 
 eral orders and sent all your mail on to Washington," 
 he said, with a look of regret. 
 
 She had some shopping to do in the village, some 
 groceries and hardware to select and order, and so it 
 was late in the afternoon when she at length got 
 througli with her business and turned homeward. 
 
 It was nearly dark when she reached the Cliffs. 
 
 She was met as usual by Nancy, who, with a happy 
 smile, said: 
 
 "I's got a s'prise for yer, honey a wisiter who will 
 cheer yer up!" 
 
 "Who is it?" inquired Lilith, as her heart bounded 
 with hope hope that her husband had relented and 
 returned. "Who is it, Nancy?" 
 
 "You jes' go inter de parlor an' see fo' yerse'f, 
 honey!" said the woman, With a little laugh. 
 
 Lilith, expecting to see her husband, opened the 
 door with a glad smile, and was caught in the arms 
 and pressed to the bosom of Mr. Alfred Ancillon! 
 
 "Oh, heaven have mercy on me, how cruel this is!" 
 exclaimed the disappointed and terrified young wife, 
 as she freed herself from the visitor's embrace, and 
 sank exhausted into a chair. "You here, and I 
 thought you were in California, or on your way to 
 Australia!" 
 
 "I know you think I am ubiquitous and so I am in 
 some senses," said the visitor.
 
 284 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 ON THE BRINK 
 
 LILITH sank into a chair, and dropped her head upon 
 her hands. 
 
 "You give me but a cold welcome. I think even 
 your housekeeper gave me a warmer one," said the 
 visitor, as he threw himself into a seat opposite hers. 
 
 Lilith moaned, but made no reply in words. 
 
 "My child, why do you not speak to me?" he in- 
 quired. 
 
 "Oh, how can I speak? What have I to say that 
 would not wound you?" breathed Lilith from behind 
 her sheltering hands. 
 
 "Have I no rights, then, that you are 'bound to 
 respect?' " 
 
 "My husband has the only rights over me. His 
 peace, his honor, his happiness, must only be con- 
 sidered in this. And, indeed indeed, you must go, 
 and you must never come again." 
 
 "By the pipers!" exclaimed the stroller, with his 
 reckless laugh, "this is a new reading of the 
 Decalogue. There is one of the Ten Commandments, 
 I remember I learned them once at the parish 
 church of my native village which is a little at 
 variance with your declaration; but, to be sure, there 
 is another Scripture, 'Wives, obey your husbands,' 
 which may indorse it. Has Here ward forbidden you 
 to see me, Lilith?" 
 
 "No, he has not. He does not even know that you 
 are in the country. He thinks, as I thought, that you 
 are on your way to Australia. How is it that you are 
 here, when the papers spoke of you as being in Cali- 
 fornia, concluding a brilliant engagement there, and 
 being on the eve of a voyage to Australia?" inquired 
 Lilith.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIPE 85 
 
 Mr. Alfred Ancillon threw himself back in his chair, 
 and laughed aloud. The "elegant" man of the world 
 seemed transformed at once into the reckless 
 Bohemian. 
 
 "My dear Lilith," he said, "in our line of life there 
 are 'wheels within wheels;' mysteries on the posters 
 as well as on the stage; plots behind the scenes as 
 well as before the audience. My white lily you are 
 very white just now my name went to California, but 
 not my person. The name which I first made famous 
 belongs now more to the troupe than it does to me. I 
 would not go to California. I never stirred from 
 Washington until I came down here." 
 
 "You never left Washington!" gasped Lilith. 
 
 "Never, until I came down here. The troupe were 
 going to a city where I was not known. I w^ould not 
 go with them at any price, so as a last resort I was 
 induced to hire out my popular name to a most won- 
 derful imitator, and whom the stage artist, with the 
 aid of a beautiful black wig, false black eyebrows, 
 false black moustache, paint, padding, and 'symmet- 
 ricals/ will make up into a passable Alfred Ancillon 
 behind the footlights. But why were you so surprised 
 to see me? You must have received my letter?" 
 
 "Your letter? No. I received no letter from you," 
 exclaimed Lilith, as a mortal terror paled her cheeks 
 at the recollection of her morning's mail, which had 
 been returned to Washington by the postmaster, 
 under the impression that she herself had gone back 
 thither. That mail would fall into the hands of her 
 husband. That letter might be opened by him, for it 
 was an understood matter between them that either, 
 in the absence of the other, might open letters that 
 seemed to require immediate attention, unless, indeed, 
 they should be marked private. 
 
 "Lilith! what is the matter with you? Why do you
 
 286 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 turn pale at the announcement that I have written to 
 you?" demanded the visitor. 
 
 "Your letter will fall into the hands of Mr. Here- 
 ward and cause Oh, Heaven! what woe may it not 
 cause!" she moaned. 
 
 "Lilith!" exclaimed Ancillon starting up in alarm 
 "what do you mean? How could my letter fall into 
 the hands of Hereward? Here ward is in Washing- 
 ton." 
 
 "And the letter has gone to Washington," she 
 moaned. 
 
 "WHAT!" he cried, growing as pale as herself. 
 
 "I say the letter has gone to Washington! Sent 
 there by the postmaster, under the impression that I 
 had returned to the city with Mr. Hereward." 
 
 "The confounded donkey! Why did he not wait for 
 orders before daring to do such a thing? He is unfit 
 for his post!" exclaimed Ancillon, all the more vehe- 
 mently because he felt that he himself was, und;>r the 
 very peculiar circumstances, much more to blame than 
 was the simple village postmaster. 
 
 "But, oh! why did you do such a reckless deed as to 
 write to me at all?" moaned Lilith. 
 
 "To announce my arrival. It seemed so safe both 
 to write and come. Hereward was in Washington 
 you here." 
 
 "How did you know that?" 
 
 "My child, he is of sufficient importance in the world 
 to have all his motions chronicled by the papers; but, 
 indeed, it was not to the papers alone that I owed my 
 information. You should have got that letter on Sun- 
 day morning." 
 
 "Our post-office is never open on Sundays," said 
 Lilith. 
 
 "Then you should have got it this morning, and you 
 would have done so but for the stupidity of your post- 
 master."
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 287 
 
 "And now it will certainly fall into the hands of my 
 husband!" 
 
 "Still, he would scarcely open your letter, Lilith?" 
 
 "Yes, he would, unless it were marked 'private,' as 
 he allows me to open all his own except so marked. 
 He says we have no secrets from each other! I know 
 that he has none from me and he thinks that I have 
 none from him! Ah, would to Heaven I had not!" she 
 earnestly prayed. 
 
 "You have no secrets of your own kept from your 
 husband, Lilith." 
 
 "No, thank Heaven! I have none of my own!" 
 
 "Then since this is not your mystery, but mine, why 
 should it be such an intolerable burden on your heart 
 and conscience, Lilith?" 
 
 "Because it is something that I keep from him! And 
 I grieve to keep anything from him who has no con- 
 cealments from me," moaned Lilith. Then, with a sud- 
 den change of tone, she inquired: "What did you 
 write in that letter? Did you make any allusions to 
 to" 
 
 "The situation? My life's precious secret? No, 
 Lilith, certainly not! I merely announced the fact I 
 had discovered that you were to be brought down 
 here by Mr. Hereward and left here for your health; 
 that you would again be alone and that I should take 
 advantage of the circumstance to come down and visit 
 you." 
 
 "And, oh! What will my husband think what 
 would any man think on reading such a letter as that, 
 addressed to his wife?" groaned Lilith. 
 
 Mr. Alfred Ancillon fell back in his chair, shook his 
 black curls and indulged in one of his long, silvery 
 peals of laughter before he answered. 
 
 " 'What would any man think?' Why, if he were a 
 jealous, suspicious, evil-imagining man, he would be
 
 288 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 sure to think that his wife had an ardent, persistent 
 and perhaps a favored lover!" 
 
 "Oh, heaven of heavens, what shall I do?" ex- 
 claimed Lilith, dropping her crimsoned face into her 
 hands again. 
 
 "Don't fret! It is alarming! I felt it to be so my- 
 self when I first heard that my dispatches were likely 
 to fall into the hands of the enemy! But I never per- 
 mit myself to wail over the inevitable. 'What is be- 
 yond remedy should be beyond regret.' That is good 
 philosophy! That is 'wisdom in solid chunks!' " said 
 Ancillon, gayly. 
 
 "But, oh! when he confronts me with that letter! 
 as he will do! and demands an explanation what 
 can I say to him?" wailed Lilith. 
 
 "Say nothing! 'Least said is soonest mended!' 
 That is good philosophy also! Laugh at him! Make 
 light of it! That is the way in which you must meet 
 the difficulty, Lilith." 
 
 "Oh, I cannot. I cannot prevaricate. I must either 
 refuse to explain, or I must tell the truth. Oh, re- 
 lease me from my promise. Oh, let me tell my hus- 
 band." 
 
 "Lilith! You are mad stark mad. It is well I 
 bound you by an oath you dare not break, or you 
 would betray and ruin me without the least hesita- 
 tion. Bah! I won't be melodramatic over all this. 
 In a word, my child, I charge you by your duty to me 
 and if you are a Christian you are bound to acknowl- 
 edge that you do owe, some duty even to me " 
 
 "My first duty is to my husband," murmured Lilith, 
 in a very low but firm voice. 
 
 "Well, granted. Your first duty is to your husband. 
 So let your duty to me pass out of the question. Still, 
 I charge you by the oath you have registered in 
 Heaven, Lilith Hereward, never to reveal my secret,
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 289 
 
 except in the contingency agreed between us a con- 
 tingency scarcely possible to happen." 
 
 ''Then Heaven have mercy on me; for I know not 
 what the next twenty-four hours may bring forth " 
 groaned Lilith. 
 
 "Why what do you expect them to develop?" in- 
 quired Ancillon, with more uneasiness than he had 
 intended to betray. 
 
 "Mr. Hereward will get that letter to-morrow morn- 
 ing. As it is not marked private, he may open it and 
 read it. Can you suppose that after reading such a let- 
 ter as that, addressed to his wife, he will quietly re- 
 main in Washington? No; believe me, he will take 
 the first train to Frosthill, and be here by to-morrow 
 evening, at latest. The one chance, the only hope, is 
 that he will be too busy to look into any corre- 
 spondence, and will frank it all back to me here." 
 
 As Lilith spoke the bell rang. 
 
 I' Will you come in to tea?" she inquired, wearily. 
 
 "Yes, for the last time. I will not stay in the house, 
 or even in the neighborhood, to compromise you, my 
 poor child. I will just take a cup of tea with you, 
 and then take my leave. Meanwhile, will you 'take' 
 my arm to the dining-room?" 
 
 Lilith laid her hand lightly on his sleeve and they 
 went out together. 
 
 Stephen, the groom and coachman, dressed in his 
 Sunday clothes, stood waiting. 
 
 "Where is Alick?" inquired his mistress, as she 
 handed him a cup of tea to be served to her guest. 
 
 "Oh! Alick, mist'ess? I fink Alick has gone luny 
 ag'in, for soon's ebber he put up de bosses arter dribin' 
 yer home f'om de pos'-office, he run away offen de 
 place, Alick did 'deed he did, young mist'ess so A'n' 
 Nancy she tole me to come in an' wait on de table. 
 'Deed it's de trufe."
 
 290 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 " Very well, that will do. Hand Mr. Ancillon tlu 
 rolls." 
 
 When tea was over, Lilith and her guest returned 
 to the parlor. And then Mr. Ancillon said: 
 
 "I am going to bid you good-bye, Lilith. 'It may be 
 for years and it may be forever;' for it is good-bye in 
 earnest, this time." 
 
 She could not oppose his resolution. She could not 
 ask him to stay longer; she could not even invite him 
 to repeat his visit. She could only sob forth her adieu 
 and prayers: 
 
 "Oh, may heaven be with you, my dear, my dear. 
 My heart bleeds to see you go. I shall pray for you 
 night and morn-ing yes, morning and night will I 
 pray." 
 
 When he had gone Lilith threw herself on the sofa 
 aud gave way to a paroxysm of bitterest tears and 
 sobs. 
 
 Lilith slipped from her recumbent position on the 
 lounge, knelt and dropped her head in her hands, and 
 prayed earnestly for that strange visitor, whose tragic 
 story had wrung her heart, yet whose appearance al- 
 ways filled her with dismay. 
 
 Then she thought of the husband whom she loved 
 and honored above every other being in the world 
 who was, indeed, all the world of love to her. 
 
 She could not satisfy Hereward without betraying 
 Ancillon, and even forswearing herself. 
 
 What should she do? Of whom could she ask 
 advice? 
 
 She could do nothing. Her hands were tied because 
 her tongue was tied. 
 
 If her husband should open and read Ancillon's 
 letter to her, what would he, what could he think? 
 If he should come down to Cloud-Capped Cliffs and 
 confront her with that letter in his hands, and demand 
 an explanation, what could she say?
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 291 
 
 She might refer him to her whole short, blameless 
 life, and to the esteem in which she had been held by 
 his father, and was now held by all his friends; but 
 what would all that be worth in the face of this unex- 
 plained letter, and to the judgment of a jealous hus- 
 band? 
 
 For Lilith could not conceal from herself from her 
 deeply humiliated self the mortifying truth which 
 she perceived, with burning blushes, that her husband 
 was jealous jealous of Alfred Ancillon! Yes, and 
 oh, horror! that to all false appearances he had cause 
 sufficient for jealousy! 
 
 This being the state of affairs, how should she meet 
 her husband? 
 
 Yet how could she avoid the meeting? 
 
 A mad impulse seized the distracted girl an im- 
 pulse to fly from the coming ordeal to fly, perhaps, 
 from life itself. This was the second occasion on 
 which Lilith had felt the Tempter's power. But she 
 did not yield to it; she met and resisted it by prayer. 
 
 "Miss Lilif, honey, yer gwine set up all night? It's 
 'leben o'clock, honey!" 
 
 This interruption, it is almost needless to say, came 
 from Nancy, who had opened the door and entered 
 the room. 
 
 "Is it so late? I will go to bed at once," said Lilith r 
 rising. 
 
 "Dat young youf gone, I hears, Miss Lilif. Steve 
 say how he went 'way 'rectly arter tea. 'Deed I was 
 hopes he'd cheer yer up a bit! But Steve he say he 
 set mumchance all de time, 'dout a word to t'row at 
 a dog! Come to see a lady, an' be no more entertainin' 
 'an dat! 'Deed I calls it flyin'!" 
 
 " 'Flying?" inquired Lilith, with a forced smile 
 "how flying, Nancy?" 
 
 "W'y, flyin' right slap into de face ob good manners. 
 Dat's wot it is! People's allers flyin'! But I didn*
 
 292 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 s'pect how dis young youf was gwine to fly! 'Gaze, 
 sence yer been gone, I done hear mighty good 'ports ob 
 him! 'Deed has I!" 
 
 "What have you heard of him, Nancy?" inquired the 
 young lady, with more interest than she had yet 
 shown in the conversation. 
 
 "Hush, honey! Dem young ladies at Rushmore 
 leastways at Broad Manors leastways But 'deed I 
 (lunno w'ere dey 'longs to rightfully, 'caze sometimes 
 dey is at one place an' sometimes dey is at t'oder I 
 <?all dat flyin', too, 'deed does I! 'Caze 'spectable 
 young ladies ought to hab some settle' home." 
 
 "Do you mean the Misses Miles?" 
 
 "Yes, honey, dem. W'y dey finks de sun an' moon 
 rises an' sets long of dis young youf! An' 'deed Aunt 
 Jessie, de cook at Broad Manors, say how Miss Harriet 
 Miles is dead in love long ob him ebber sence dey fust 
 met at Rushmore!" 
 
 "Come, come, Nancy! I really cannot allow you to 
 speak so freely of a young lady," said Lilith, gravely. 
 
 "La, honey, it ain't me as says it! It is ole Marse 
 Jab's Jessie! W'ich she says as Mr. Hilary an' all de 
 ladies finks a heap ob dat young youf." 
 
 "Youth, Nancy! Mr. Ancillon is not a youth. He is 
 a man of middle age." 
 
 "Him!" said the woman, pausing in her work of 
 covering up the fire, and staring at her mistress. 
 
 "Yes: he is thirty-six years old." 
 
 "I 'clar, I didn' fink he was more'n nineteen! How 
 'ceivin' some people's looks is, to be sure." 
 
 "He looks much younger than his age, because he is 
 a little below the medium height and he is slender and 
 wears his black hair long and curling, and he is always 
 gay and boyish in manner." 
 
 "An' han'some! Umph! humph! Hush, honey! 
 Whoop you bosses! He's broke hearts in his time, you 
 bet."
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 293 
 
 "Come, Nancy, never mind Mr. Ancillon. Tell me 
 has Alick returned?" 
 
 "No, honey. He took to his heels soon's ebber he 
 cotch his eyes onto dat young w'ich I meant to say 
 dat ge'man! He ? s gone, honey." 
 
 A few moments after that, Lilith had retired to bed, 
 to have her waking thoughts and sleeping visions 
 haunted by rage, jealousy and disaster. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 A THUNDERBOLT 
 
 HEREWARD reached Washington late on Saturday 
 afternoon, and without stopping for rest or refresh- 
 ment, weary as he was with his long journey, went 
 at once from the station to the political meeting where 
 he was due and from which, late at night, he went 
 to his room in the hotel, nearly worn out in body and 
 mind, almost thoroughly disgusted with politics and 
 public life, and with himself to boot, and needing 
 above all things the soothing and refreshing ministra- 
 tions he had been accustomed to receive at the hands 
 of his one little devoted worshipper. 
 
 She was not there, and his neglected room looked 
 dreary and comfortless enough without her. 
 
 There was no bright fire, no easy-chair with dress- 
 ing-gown and slippers laid convenient, no neatly laid 
 little table, with spirit lamp and silver kettle and 
 china tea service for two; and worse than all, there 
 was no bright, glad, eager little face to welcome him, 
 to worship him, to make him feel that to one, at least r 
 on earth he was a god. 
 
 Instead of all this, there was the cold, damp room, 
 that struck a chill to his heart, the blackened grate,.
 
 294 THB UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 the Jittered table, chairs and carpet, over which were 
 widely strewn books, journals, letters, pamphlets, and 
 waste paper, all well peppered with dust, soot and 
 ashes, that had been blown down by the high wind 
 into the cold hearth that was so near the roof of the 
 house and the top of the chimney. 
 
 It was too late to ring up a servant to remedy this, 
 so Hereward, with a grunt of disgust, undressed and 
 went to his comfortless bed. 
 
 He had got rid of Lilith, the "midge," the "brainless 
 little idiot who would permit herself to be fooled by 
 any fop who could chatter soft nonsense into her silly 
 ear." She w r as two hundred miles away, exiled to the 
 lonely country house at Cloud Cliffs, where she could 
 trouble him no more. And he had his own way! But 
 yet "he was not happy." On the contrary, he felt 
 quite miserable. He had not anticipated this sort of 
 wretchedness. 
 
 Your average human being yes, and often your 
 superior human being as well will blame everybody 
 and everything in the universe rather than his own 
 dear self. 
 
 So Tudor Hereward, the conscientious Christian, the 
 close logician, eloquent orator and eminent politician, 
 lying on his uneasy couch, lied (unconsciously) to hii^- 
 self when he silently execrated "the low state of social 
 life and morals which left the peace and honor of an 
 honest man at the mercy of any brainless coxcomb 
 who had nothing better to do in the world than to 
 make mischief." 
 
 Hereward had not slept since his parting with 
 Lilith. 
 
 It followed, then, that though he lay awake a long 
 time, 
 
 "Chewing the cud of bitter thoughts," 
 when at length he did fall asleep, he slept the dream-
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 295 
 
 less sleep of utter oblivion, the last two days being so 
 entirely blotted out of his memory that' when he 
 awoke and missed Lilith from his side, and saw around 
 him the cold, cheerless and disorderly room, the recol- 
 lection of his loss fell upon him with the shock of a 
 sudden bereavement. 
 
 He pulled his bell with a sudden jerk that soon 
 brought the porter to the room. 
 
 The man, without waiting to be blamed in words 
 became profuse in apologies. 
 
 Hereward paid not the slightest attention to the 
 man's words, but got up and began to dress himself. 
 
 Then he w-ent down to breakfast; as it was nine 
 o'clock, he found all the tables well filled. At his 
 table he found the old lady-boarder who usually sat 
 there. 
 
 She welcomed him at once. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Hereward! I am glad to see you back 
 again. When did you arrive?" 
 
 "Last evening, madam." 
 
 "Oh! And Mrs. Hereward too much fatigued with, 
 her journey to appear this morning?" 
 
 "Mrs. Hereward, madam, is at home, in the 
 country. She will not return here during this season." 
 
 "Oh, what a pity! Just as she was beginning to be 
 known and admired so much. What a loss to society! 
 But I can well believe that her health required rest. 
 She has been looking pale and ill of late. Take care 
 of her, Mr. Herew r ard. She is the loveliest woman I 
 have ever seen in my life." 
 
 At dinner which on Sundays was earlier as well as 
 more regularly attended than on week days, for the 
 obvious reason that nearly all the boarders were with*- 
 in Herew r ard met many friends, and ran the gauntlet 
 of inquiries about his wife and these were not merely 
 the usual polite formulas, but questions of real, per- 
 sonal interest.
 
 296 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 This also set him to thinking. Had he underrated 
 Lilith? Had her very devotion to him dwarfed her in 
 his estimation? Was she whom he had considered 
 at the very best an unformed child with crude 
 opinions; one who habitually acted on impulse, and 
 who had w r ithin her, latent hereditary evils which only 
 required time and temptation to develop was she, in- 
 deed, one formed to w r iu the esteem and affection, and 
 not only those, but even respect and admiration, of 
 men and women w r hose approbation was honor? 
 
 On Monday morning, as he w r as about to leave his 
 room to go to the Capitol, there came a rap at the door, 
 followed by the entrance of the little Frenchwoman 
 whom Lilith had engaged weeks before as their 
 laundress. 
 
 She courtesied, looked around, courtesied again, and 
 said: 
 
 "Bon jour, monsieur. Ou done est madame?" 
 
 "Madame is at home in the country." 
 
 "He"las! Je suis en dsepoir!" 
 
 Herew T ard condescended to explain that madame 
 was away to recruit her health; that she, Madame 
 Dubois, should still have the washing. 
 
 "Even Lilith's laundress grieves for her absence," 
 he said to himself. "Though that is probably a matter 
 of self-interest," he added, grimly. 
 
 Had he not known her as she really was? Had he 
 underrated her character and ability? Worse than 
 all, had he wronged her by his jealousies and sus- 
 picions? 
 
 It was in vain that he tried to escape from these 
 questions to trample them down and out. 
 
 It was late when the House adjourned and he 
 started to return to his hotel. 
 
 Then, as if the phantom of his thought was to pur- 
 sue him in every form, he w 7 as joined by his aged 
 friend, Senator , the same eminent statesman with
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 297 
 
 whom Lilith had walked and talked at the President's 
 reception. 
 
 " Pleased to see you in your place to-day. Never 
 would have done for you to be absent at that debate," 
 he said. 
 
 Hereward acknowledged the implied compliment 
 with a bow and with a few words of deprecation. 
 
 They talked of the bill for a few moments, and then 
 Senator said: 
 
 "I hope Mrs. Hereward is well." 
 
 "She is not strong. She is at home in the country," 
 replied Hereward. 
 
 "Indeed! I am very sorry to hear that. Nothing 
 serious, I hope?" 
 
 "Oh, no; nothing serious with her health. A country 
 girl brought from the quiet life and pure air of the 
 mountains, and plunged into the distractions and late 
 hours of city life, must feel the change, you under- 
 stand," said Hereward, in a non-committal way. 
 
 "Ah, yes, yes, she is better off where she is, no 
 doubt. She is a gem, my dear boy a gem of the 
 purest water. Where in this imperfect world did you 
 discover such a perfect one?" 
 
 "She was a ward of my father, brought up by him 
 from her infancy." 
 
 "Ah! that may account for it. A nature fine by 
 inheritance and refined by training." 
 
 They had now reached the hotel, and as the senator 
 uttered these last words he bowed and walked on. 
 
 Tudor Hereward entered the hotel and went up to 
 his room, thinking more about his absent wife than 
 ever having obtained several new views of Lilith 
 through other people's unprejudiced eyes. 
 
 He changed his dress and went down to dinner, 
 where, as he sat waiting the leisure of the waiter, 
 he overheard some conversation destined to make a 
 strange, indelible impression on his mind.
 
 298 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Zuniga? Oh, lie lias left the city. Saw him off my- 
 self yesterday morning, in the Baltimore and Ohio 
 express." 
 
 "Queer fellow! No end of trouble to his uncle!" 
 
 "So I've heard. Was it true that at one time he 
 actually joined a troupe of strolling players?" 
 
 "Oh, no! I fancy not so bad as that, though he is 
 eccentric enough, to be sure! Here, waiter!" 
 
 And the talk turned abruptly from Zuniga to the 
 question of "Julien" or "mock turtle." 
 
 Here was food for thought. Were Ancillon and 
 Zuniga one and the same being? Did Lilith know 
 them to be one? Had the fellow flirted with the 
 simple country girl, in both characters? Had she en- 
 couraged this? If so, then Lilith was more deceitful 
 than he had ever suspected her to be. No doubt of it, 
 since she had deceived not only himself, but all their 
 world, into believing her to be one of the most excel- 
 lent of the earth. 
 
 Hereward had determined to devote this evening to 
 preparing a speech which should be as a thunderbolt 
 to destroy that obnoxious bill and overwhelm its sup- 
 porters. 
 
 He went to his room and set to work; but it was a 
 long while before his strength of will and power of 
 concentration enabled him to grasp and hold control 
 of the subject. 
 
 It was so near morning when he finished his work 
 that he only threw himself on the outside of his bed 
 to take an hour of needful rest. 
 
 Nevertheless, being so worn out in body and mind, 
 he fell fast asleep and slept on for several hours, and 
 until a knock at the door aroused him. 
 
 He started up, collected his scattered faculties, and 
 opened the door. 
 
 "Your letters, sir," said the porter, putting about
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 299 
 
 half a peck of them on the table and then going to the 
 grate to attend to the fire. 
 
 Hereward looked at his watch and saw that it was 
 nine o'clock. 
 
 He had overslept himself to an unprecedented 
 extent. 
 
 He made his toilet in haste, went downstairs, got a 
 cup of coffee and returned to his room. 
 
 It had been put into some order and left. 
 
 He locked the door and sat down to his correspon- 
 dence, having two hours to devote to that duty before 
 it should be necessary for him to leave for the Capitol. 
 
 The first letter that he took up, however, was fated 
 so to fix his attention as to prevent his going any far- 
 ther into his correspondence that day. 
 
 The first thing that attracted his attention about it 
 was the red-lettered stamp of the post-office printed 
 diagonally across the front 
 
 "FORWARDED." 
 
 He looked at the first postmark, "Washington;" at 
 the second, "Frosthill." He thought it was for him- 
 self; for he had only seen "Tudor Hereward," written 
 in a large, masculine hand two letters of the heavy 
 stamp having blotted out the "Mrs." 
 
 "Ah! this letter followed me to Frosthill and then 
 back again. Who could have written to me at Frost- 
 hill? Some one who heard that I had gone down there 
 and who had 'an axe to grind' in that neighborhood, I 
 suppose," said Hereward, as he opened the envelope 
 and drew out the letter. 
 
 Now, think of the state of mind in which the man 
 w r as; remember the conversation he had heard at the 
 dinner table of the hotel, and then judge of the feel- 
 ings with which he must have read the following 
 letter:
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "WASHINGTON, March 10, 18 . 
 
 "MY DAKLING LILITH: I have just ascertained that 
 you are again relegated to the retirement of Cloud 
 Cliffs where, languishing alone, you play 'Marianna in 
 the Moated Grange;' 'The Lady of Shalot;' 'Viola' 
 
 'Letting concealment like the worm i' the bud 
 Prey on her damask cheek.' 
 
 Like, in short, any other forlorn damsel or deserted 
 dame in fable or poetry. So now, my Lilith, I propose 
 to take advantage of the old man's absence and run 
 down to Cloud Cliffs to see you, and cheer you up. 
 You will get this letter on Monday morning. Expect 
 to see me on Monday evening. 
 
 "Your affectionate and devoted 
 
 "ANCILLON." 
 
 We cannot attempt to describe the mood of mind in 
 which Hereward finished this letter. Let it suffice to 
 say that it was a mood in which honest and honorable 
 men, nay, Christian and religious men, who never 
 dreamed of breaking the law of God, have been 
 tempted to commit murder. 
 
 Forgotten was that important bill before the House; 
 forgotten the coming debate; forgotten his great 
 speech; forgotten all the duties of his position; for- 
 gotten his ambition. 
 
 Remembered only, imaginary wrong, dishonor and 
 vengeance. 
 
 With a face as white and grim as death and the 
 grave, he arose, prepared for a sudden journey, and 
 strode down the stairs and out of the house. 
 
 Those who met him on the avenue, and spoke to 
 him, afterwards reported that he strode on without 
 answering or seeming even to see or to hear them. 
 
 He caught his train by a hair's breadth of time, and 
 with murder in his heart, sped on to his home in West 
 Virginia. God have mercy and save him.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 301 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 DOOMED 
 
 Thou hast done well to tell thy heart, 
 That good lies in the bitterest part, 
 And thou wilt profit by griefs smart. 
 
 But bitter hours come to all, 
 
 When even truths like these will patl, 
 
 Sick hearts for humbler comfort call. 
 
 Then I would have thee strive to see 
 That good and evil come to thee 
 As one of a great family. 
 
 Adelaide Anne Proctor. 
 
 MEANWHILE, that same fated Tuesday morning 
 which saw Tudor Hereward start on his sudden, 
 vengeful journey from Washington City to West Vir- 
 ginia, saw Lilith rise from her restless bed, pale, 
 anxious and foreboding. 
 
 Her fitful sleep had been troubled by dark dreams, 
 whose outlines she could not recall with any distinct- 
 ness, but which had left upon her spirit a vague horror 
 of darkness, like the shadow of approaching calamity. 
 
 Nancy, ever vigilant, w r aited for no summons, but 
 \ hearing her mistress move and sigh, entered her room 
 to assist in her morning toilet. 
 
 Lilith, still with the black cloud lowering over her 
 spirit, like the forerunner of the storm, went down- 
 stairs, followed by her faithful servant. 
 
 She entered the bright, warm, attractive little par- 
 lor, where the clear, fragrant cedar fire was burning, 
 with an elegant little breakfast-table and a comfort- 
 able arm-chair drawn up before it.
 
 302 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 Nancy brought in the breakfast, and stood waiting 
 and chatting, with the privilege of a favored servant, 
 while her mistress tried to eat. 
 
 " 'Deed I reckon as Alick has 'mancipated de plan- 
 tation, sure enuff now! He's t'reatened to do it off en 
 enuff, an' now I reckon as he's gone an' done it." 
 
 "Has he not come back, then?" 
 
 "No, honey, not he!" 
 
 "Well, I suppose he will come back when he feels 
 disposed," said Lilith, indulgently. 
 
 "I reckon as he has gone ober to Broad Manners to 
 hire hisse'f to Ole Mr. Jab Jordon. I don't call dat 
 place Broad Manners myse'f ! I calls it Bad Manners, 
 w'ich is de properes' name for it. An' ef Alick hires 
 long ob ole Mr. Jab Jordon, he'll wish he hadn't, dat's 
 all! He'll wish hisse'f dead, he will! Yes, he'll wish 
 de debbil had got him 'fo' ebber Ole Jab Jordon did! 
 Hush, honey! Nobody in dis worl' can do nuffin with 
 Ole Jab 'cept 'tis Mrs. Jab! An' she can't do much 
 wid him! How an' ebber, I s'pects w'en de baby 
 'ribes dat will humanate him a little!" 
 
 "The baby!" exclaimed Lilith, surprised into taking 
 an interest in Nancy's gossip. 
 
 "Yes, honey, de heir w'ich dey expects at Broad 
 Manners. I hope as it won't be de heir to Bad Man- 
 ners as well. 'Deed do I!" 
 
 "When is this heir expected to arrive?" 
 
 "Airly in de summer. So I hear f'om ole Aunt 
 Molly, w'ich is de housekeeper at de place." 
 
 Lilith said no more. She had finished her pretense 
 at breakfast. Leaning back wearily in her chair, she 
 inquired : 
 
 "Has Stephen been to the post-office?" 
 
 "He's gone, but he hasn't come back yet," replied 
 Nancy, as she took the breakfast service away. 
 
 As soon as the table was arranged, and covered with 
 its red cloth, and the books and nick-nacks were re-
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 303 
 
 placed upon it, Lilith opened her work-box and took 
 out some needle-work upon which to employ herself. 
 
 She sat there sewing in solitude for more than an 
 hour, and until she was interrupted by the re-entrance 
 of Xancy, who said, apologetically: 
 
 "Yer know I doan off en 'low yer to be boddered wid 
 beggars, Miss Lilif, w'ich, praise be de Lord, dere ain't 
 many ob dat sort 'roun' yere, nohow, but dis po' young 
 gal do look so pitiful I couldn' help comin' to tell yer 
 'bout her; 'sides w'ich, I fought it would 'vert yer to 
 see her an' do somefin' for her." 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Lilith, eagerly catching at the op- 
 portunity to do good to some fellow-being, and never 
 dreaming of the grave consequences involved in her 
 good intentions. "Yes, Nancy. Bring the poor crea- 
 ture in here to me. A young girl did you say she 
 was?" 
 
 "A little young gal, 'bout sixteen or sebenteen years 
 ob age, I reckon. But she's de pitifullest po' fing as 
 ebber you see." 
 
 Nancy went out and soon returned with the young 
 woman in question. 
 
 Lilith looked up, to see standing before her a slight 
 girl, half clothed in. thin and tattered black clothes, 
 with an old and worn red crape shawl thrown over her 
 head and shoulders; her small feet in broken shoes, 
 without stockings. 
 
 Lilith shuddered to see so frail a creature so thinly 
 clad in such freezing weather. 
 
 "Come to the fire at once, dear. Sit down here," 
 said the young lady, tenderly, as she drew a low, 
 cushioned chair to the corner. 
 
 The shivering girl courtesied and took the seat, sit- 
 ting modestly, deprecatingly, upon the very edge. 
 
 "You are tired and cold. Lean back; put your feet 
 to the fire; try to make yourself comfortable, dear," 
 said Lilith.
 
 304 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 The poor young stranger's gypsy face broke into a 
 faint but grateful smile, as she reclined in the seat and 
 put her small feet to the fire, which soon drew from 
 her sodden shoes little clouds of steam. 
 
 "Poor little soul! how cold and wet you are! Nancy, 
 go first and bring a glass of wine and a cracker for her 
 to take while you are preparing something better." 
 
 Nancy, really as much interested as her mistress, 
 went out, and Lilith turned to the poor young waif. 
 
 She was a very pretty creature, notwithstanding the 
 pinched poverty and pallor of her face. The old red 
 shawl had fallen from her figure, revealing a shapely 
 little head, covered thickly with fine, jet black, crisply 
 curling hair; a small face, with delicate features and 
 dark complexion, lighted up by a pair of large, bril- 
 liant black eyes, to which famine lent its fiercer 
 light. 
 
 Not until Nancy had come in with a glass of rich old 
 port wine and a plate of crackers and had gone out 
 again to prepare more substantial food, and the fam- 
 ished girl had eaten the crackers and drank the wine, 
 that sent a glow into her pallid cheeks, did Lilith ven- 
 ture to question the stranger. And even then the 
 young lady only spoke that she might know whether 
 the latter were in need of sympathy and counsel as 
 well as of more substantial help. 
 
 "You are a stranger in this neighborhood, I think," 
 said Lilith. 
 
 "Yes, lady," replied the girl, in a soft, rich, voice, 
 and a slightly foreign accent. 
 
 "Have you friends here?" 
 
 "No, madame." 
 
 "Forgive me if I question you. It is not from sus- 
 picion or from curiosity, indeed, but from real interest 
 in you and a deep desire to assist you," said Lilith, 
 gently. 
 
 "Madame is too very good to care for such as I. Let
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 205 
 
 madame ask what she will. I will answer zee holy 
 truth." 
 
 "Where, then, is your home?" 
 
 The girl lifted her large sad eyes to the lady's face 
 with a wistful look, and then lifting them towards 
 heaven, she raised her hand and pointed, saying: 
 
 "Zere, zere is my home, when my penance is 
 finissed." 
 
 "And have you no home here in this world?" 
 
 "No, meeladie. Lucille has no home here." 
 
 "Are you an orphan, then, Lucille?" 
 
 "Yes, meeladie." 
 
 "Poor child! Well, you shall not want a home or 
 friend henceforth." 
 
 "Meeladie is too good to poor Lucille." 
 
 "Will you mind telling me how you came to be here 
 in this strange neighborhood, and alone?" inquired 
 Lilith. 
 
 "Viz mon mari I come." 
 
 "Your husband! Are you married?" exclaimed 
 Lilith, in surprise. 
 
 "Oui, madame." 
 
 "Where is your husband now that he does not take 
 care of you?" 
 
 "He"las 7 madame, I know not. He left zee troupe 
 and left me." 
 
 "My poor girl, your husband belonged to the troupe 
 of traveling players, then?" 
 
 "Yes, meeladie, he was of zee troupe Monsieur 
 Ancillon, Monsieur Alfred Ancillon. He"las, madame, 
 what is it then? And what have I said?" inquired the 
 stranger, in alarm, as Lilith, with an exclamation of 
 horror, buried her face in her hands. 
 
 "Monsieur Alfred Ancillon! Did you say Monsieur 
 Alfred Ancillon?" breathlessly demanded Lilith. 
 
 "Yes, meeladie! he " 
 
 "And he was your husband?"
 
 306 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Oui, madame." 
 
 "And he left you in poverty, in rags, homeless, 
 friendless, starving, freezing? I don't believe it! I 
 can't believe it!" exclaimed Lilith, vehemently. 
 
 The stranger girl looked hurt, and answered with a 
 gentle dignity which for a moment raised her above 
 her rags and squalor. 
 
 "I tell madame zee holy truth. I force not my grief 
 on zee notice of madame. Madame to question does 
 condescend. Lucille answers viz zee holy truth. If 
 madame vill not believe, it is of not importe. Nozing 
 is of much importe in zis world of sadness." 
 
 "My poor girl," said Lilith, touched by her manner, 
 "I am sure that you believe you are telling me the 
 truth. But it cannot be truth. There is some great 
 mistake somewhere. I know Monsieur Ancillon well. 
 He would never have been so wicked as to leave you 
 so destitute." 
 
 "Madame must keep her opinion. I veel not dees- 
 pute it." 
 
 "Will you tell me how, and when, and why he your 
 husband left you?" 
 
 "Zee troupe vent on vizout him, madame. He stay 
 behind. Zen he go, he leave me, I know it not ven I 
 wake on zee morning. I look zat he vill come back; 
 but he comes not. I haff no money. I valk on zee 
 railroad line to Blackveele to zee troupe. But he is no 
 viz zem. Zey vill not haff me. To sing or to dance I 
 know not. So zey vill not haff me. I valk all zee way 
 back to dis Frosveele. He may perhaps be here wait- 
 ing 1 for me. But he is not here. I lodge viz one 
 pauvre femme, one black madame in a little housie 
 in zee trees. Dis was two monze gone, madame. I 
 haff no money, mais I gif her my clothes now one 
 piece, zen anoder; so, and see sell zem to buy food for 
 see and me. But zee black madame fell seeke, and my
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 307 
 
 clothes zey is all gone but as you sail see, meeladie. 
 Behold!" 
 
 And the poor girl arose and displayed her tatters. 
 
 "Yezdy day no food in zee leetle housie. Ziz mor- 
 nin' no food, no fire. I go to zee frozen trees, I break 
 brush and breeng it in and mek zee fire. Zen I come 
 out to get food. I come here to zee goode madame. 
 Voila tout." 
 
 "I will see that you and your friend are made com- 
 fortable. You shall want no more. I am very glad 
 that you came to me. I shall be so happy to relieve 
 you. But here comes my maid with your dinner. 
 When you have eaten it I will see that a basket is 
 filled for your friend," said Lilith, as Nancy entered 
 with a large waiter, on which was arranged all the 
 accessories of a comfortable meal. 
 
 Lilith arose and cleared the little table of books and 
 work-box. And when Nancy had arranged the meal 
 upon it, Lilith told Lucille to draw up her resting- 
 chair and partake. 
 
 "Poor, starved chile! how she do gormandize!" was 
 the mental comment of Nancy, as at a sign from her 
 mistress she left the room. 
 
 And she did. She literally cleaned the platters, con- 
 sumed everything that was set before her. 
 
 Lilith would willingly have ordered another relay of 
 all the viands, but she really feared the poor, fam- 
 ished creature, who seemed to have no control over 
 her abnormal appetite, might make herself ill. So 
 when all the dishes were cleaned out, Lilith rang for 
 Nancy to take away the service, and then said to her 
 humble guest: 
 
 "If you will come upstairs with me I will try to find 
 something to make you comfortable." 
 
 Lucille arose and followed her benefactress. Lilith 
 led the way into her own bed-chamber, locked the 
 door, lest she should be interrupted in her almsgiving,
 
 308 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 and then made the poor girl sit down in the arm-chair 
 while she herself unlocked wardrobes and bureaus, 
 and selected from them the needful warm clothing for 
 the stranger. 
 
 Lilith had but a very limited stock of wearing ap- 
 parel, and none that were well worn. She bought but 
 few dresses, and gave them away before they were 
 half worn out. So it followed that all the articles 
 selected by her for this poor girl were in excellent con- 
 dition. Warm flannel skirts and hosiery, a thick, 
 "black serge suit, a black waterproof cloak, with large 
 cape, hood and sleeves, a pair of thick walking boots, 
 and a pair of gloves, 
 
 Lilith tied all in a bundle, with the exception of the 
 cloak and the shoes and stockings, which she insisted 
 that the girl should put on then and there. 
 
 When this arrangement was completed, and the old, 
 useless shoes with the senseless acquisitiveness of 
 the poor in hoarding all their possessions were 
 crammed into the bundle, Lilith put a five-dollar note 
 in the hand of the girl, and then led the way down 
 to the little parlor, where Nancy, according to order, 
 was waiting with a large basket of provisions for the 
 girl and her sick friend. 
 
 "Now, my poor child, I think you had better wait 
 here, until my coachman comes back from the post- 
 office, when I can send you and your parcels home in 
 the pony carriage," said Lilith, kindly. 
 
 "Oh! meeladie, a tousand tanks! You heap good in 
 good! But, meeladie, zee way it is not far. Over zee 
 leetle point, over zee leetle riviere. I can valk, tres 
 bien," replied Lucille, who looked much brighter and 
 stronger since her rest and her meal by the warm fire. 
 
 "True as I lib, Miss Lilif, she must lib 'long ob ole 
 Aunt Adah, dere by de crik, right back ob our orchid! 
 'Tain' nuffin ob no walk, an' I kin tote dis basket ob
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 309 
 
 wittals along ob her, an' see de ole woman, an' fine 
 out how she is," said the housekeeper. 
 
 "I wish you would, Nancy. And if the poor creature 
 needs medical treatment I will send for Dr. Kerr to 
 come to her. It is very strange that any human being 
 should suffer want so near our house. How should it 
 happen, Nancy?" 
 
 "Hi, Miss Lilif, how I know? I ain't been across dat 
 crik fer mont's and mont's. Berry wrong in Aunt 
 Adah not to let us know nuffin 'bout her sitteration! 
 I calls it flyin' I do, indeed downright flyin', " said 
 Nancy, as she took up the heavy basket. 
 
 "Bon soir, madame! May angels guard you! May 
 zee Holy Virgin love you! May our Lord bless you! 
 Goode-night, meeladie!" said Lucille, seizing Lilith's 
 hand and kissing it between every sentence. 
 
 Nancy only stopped to get a heavy shawl to throw 
 over her head, and then she followed the young for- 
 eigner out of the parlor. 
 
 Lilith sat down in a great trouble. 
 
 The astounding announcement of the girl concern- 
 ing Mr. Alfred Ancillon had really stunned her into 
 insensibility as to the real meaning and bearing of the 
 asserted fact. 
 
 The immediate needs of the poor girl had occupied 
 Lilith's hands and feet, and, perhaps, her most exter- 
 nal thoughts; but underneath all was the conscious- 
 ness of a dull pain a deep burden of pain that was 
 becoming more poignant every moment. 
 
 Was it probable was it even possible that Alfred 
 Ancillon could have been guilty of the atrocity of de- 
 serting this young wife in utter destitution, and in a 
 strange land? 
 
 As she thought out the subject she came to the gen- 
 erous conclusion that though there might be mystery 
 in this matter as there was a great cloud 0f mystery
 
 310 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 all around Mr. Alfred Ancillon there could be no 
 guilt. 
 
 Then, as she dismissed this subject from her mind, 
 it seemed only to make room for the entrance of a yet 
 more disturbing one the letter! Here ward must 
 have received it by this time! And if he should have 
 opened and read it! Oh, what, what could he think 
 of her? What could any man think of his wife under 
 the same circumstances? 
 
 Her torturing thoughts were interrupted by the re- 
 turn of Nancy, who broke suddenly into the room ex- 
 claiming: 
 
 "Well, Miss Lilif, I done been an' seen ole Aunt 
 Adah! Lor'! Dere ain't nuffin 'tall de matter wid dat 
 ole creetur but de rheumatiz! She's crippled up wid 
 de rheumatiz an' it's a good fing as she's got dat dere 
 young w'ite gal to take care ob her! I done sent Cely 
 ober dere wid some opydildock, an' I 'spects she'll be 
 all right ag'in w'en de wedder's settled." 
 
 "I hope so. But you must look after her well, 
 Nancy." 
 
 "Fac', Miss Lilif! Sure's yer born! Dere! Dere's 
 Steve at las'! Now, wot yer got to say for yerse'f 
 stayin' all dis time? Oh, won't I be glad w'en de 
 marster comes home for good to regellate yer all! 
 Been drinkin' pizen whiskey at Drummond's grog- 
 shop; or spendin' yer time foolin' 'long o' dat yaller 
 gal, Flora?" demanded the housekeeper. 
 
 "I come back soon's ebber I could, Miss Lilif! Yes, 
 
 ' ma'am, I did, indeed! W'ich I had to wait for de mail 
 
 to come in, w'ich de train were two hours 'hine-han'." 
 
 "No accident, I hope?" said Lilith, anxiously. 
 
 "No, ma'am w'ich I meant to say no sarous one 
 on'y de freight train run ober de dead tree wot fell 
 'cross de track an' were pitched ober leastways de 
 engine were, I beliebe, or somefin' or yudder wot made 
 a 'struction on de yoad; but no one were hurt."
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 311 
 
 ''Well, I am glad it was no worse! You can go now, 
 Stephen," said the young lady. 
 
 Lilith drew the key from her pocket and unlocked 
 the mail, and turned it upside down. 
 
 Only one poor little letter dropped out. 
 
 She snatched it up, hoping it might be from her hus- 
 band. But, no! The handwriting was strange to her. 
 She opened the envelope and turned to the signature: 
 "Alfred Ancillon." 
 
 He had never written to her, before that luckless 
 letter which had gone to Washington and escaped her 
 sight. So that she had never seen his handwriting 
 until this moment. 
 
 With a sinking of the heart that now always at- 
 tended the thought of the handsome and eccentric 
 stranger, she opened the letter. 
 
 It was as follows: 
 
 "FROSTVILLE, March , 18 . 
 
 "MY DEAREST DEAR LILITH: I am going away from 
 you now, for a certainty. I am going to Chicago. I 
 write only to take leave of you, and to tell you that 
 you may safely direct a letter to me to the Chicago 
 post-office until called for. Tell me, when you write, 
 where I may safely direct a letter to you. Frosthill 
 will not do, of course. What do you say to Eyrie, 
 Tip Top, Blackville? Either of these would do, I 
 think. If you should see or hear anything of a little 
 French gypsy who answers to the name of Lucille, be 
 good to her, for my sake. I hear that the troupe has 
 dropped her. Hoping to hear from you on my arrival 
 at Chicago, I remain, ever and ever, my darling of 
 darlings, your own "ANCILLON." 
 
 Lilith read this letter to the end, feeling more per- 
 plexed and troubled than she had felt before in all her 
 life. She could not think. She was past thinking.
 
 312 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 She sat before the fire, staring at the lines before her, 
 absorbed and dazed, until a movement in the room, 
 which might have been Nancy or Steve, aroused her 
 from her trance of dismay. 
 
 "This must be destroyed at once," she muttered to 
 herself, as she extended her hand to hold the letter 
 over the blaze. 
 
 But at that instant her wrist was seized in a firm 
 grip, and the letter withdrawn from her hand. 
 
 With a start she turned, and found herself face to 
 face with her husband. 
 
 She uttered a piercing shriek, and hid her face in the 
 cushions of her chair. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 DRIVEN TO DESPERATION 
 
 "DETECTED!" said Tudor Hereward, in a voice of 
 cold scorn that revealed nothing of the fire of jealous 
 rage that was burning and consuming his heart. 
 
 She answered not a word in self-defence. She could 
 not speak, but sat cowering and trembling, with her 
 head buried in the cushions of her chair. 
 
 He glanced at the letter in his hand. First at its 
 commencement, "My Dearest Dear Lilith," then at its 
 end, "Ever and ever, my darling of darlings, your own 
 Ancillon." 
 
 Then he went and turned the key in the door, 
 stepped back to Lilith's side, and said, in a low, hard 
 tone: 
 
 "Look up at me." 
 
 She raised her pale and distressed face, lifting her 
 large brown eyes appealingly, sorrowfully and prayer- 
 fully to his.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 313 
 
 "I am going to read this letter from your lover to 
 yourself. I am going to read it aloud," he said, with 
 cold cruelty. 
 
 "Oh, Tudor!" she tried to say, though her voice was 
 broken with anguish, "he is not my lover! As the 
 Lord hears me speak the truth, as I hope for salva- 
 tion, he is not my lover!" 
 
 "BE SILENT!" he thundered, losing his self-command. 
 "I will not suffer you to utter falsehoods, perjuries, 
 blasphemies, in my presence! Listen to this letter, 
 and be overwhelmed with shame and dishonor!" 
 
 Lilith sank shuddering to the floor and hid her head 
 on the seat of her chair, looking in her pitiable terror 
 and dismay the very image of detected guilt. 
 
 Hereward, by an effort of his strong will, recovered 
 his self-control, and with cruel coldness read the fatal 
 letter slowly and distinctly to its end. 
 
 Then deliberately folding it up and carefully putting 
 it away in his pocket, he said, with constrained 
 quietness: 
 
 "You know the usual end of these disgraceful 
 affairs. What have you to say?" 
 
 She raised her agonized face once more, raised her 
 imploring eyes to his, clasped and wrung her hands, 
 and answered, with impassioned earnestness: 
 
 "Oh, Tudor! I am true to you! I am true to you! 
 There is not a pulse in my heart that does not beat for 
 you! Oh, there is not a breath of my life that is not 
 an aspiration for you! The Lord, who hears me, knows 
 I speak the truth!" 
 
 He looked down on her, his lips writhing with unut- 
 terable scorn, as he answered: 
 
 "I thought you were a child, and I was half inclined 
 to pity, even while I despised you! But you never 
 were a child! You were born with inherited evils in 
 which childhood could have no part evils which have 
 made you, at seventeen years of age, a woman, so old
 
 314 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 in sin, so sharp in deception, so hardened in false- 
 hood, that I can feel no mercy for you and shall show 
 no mercy to you! Be sure of that." 
 
 "Tudor," she said, slowing rising from her abashed 
 position and reseating herself in her chair, while a 
 certain gentle dignity was faintly perceptible through 
 all her deep distress "Tudor, I have not asked, and 
 do not want, your mercy, if I have lost your love." 
 
 "Lost my love! Ha, ha!" he answered, laughing 
 insultingly. "Why, you never had my love! No! I 
 thank God I have not that humiliation to blush for. 
 That dishonor, that deep degradation does not cling to 
 me. I never loved you!" 
 
 "You never cared for me?" breathed the 
 young wife, in broken tones, and with a dazed expres- 
 sion. 
 
 "Never!" he answered, savagely "Never! I thank 
 the Lord!" 
 
 "Then why, oh, why did you marry me?" she mur- 
 mured, in heartbroken anguish. 
 
 "Why? To please my dying father! You had played 
 your game well for a child! You had played upon 
 the feelings of that honest gentleman, the late Major 
 Hereward. You had made him believe that you were 
 worthy to be his daughter, the wife of his son. And 
 in some way had given him the impression that you 
 had honored his son with your love ha, ha, ha ! And 
 so he asked me, as a last earthly concession, to marry 
 you. And so, to please my dying father, I made the 
 greatest sacrifice ever required of man. I gave you my 
 hand; but it was my hand only." 
 
 "Oh! if I had but known the truth! If I had but 
 known the truth!" wailed the miserable young wife. 
 
 "Or if I had but known it!" mocked Hereward. 
 "But at all events we both know it now, when it is 
 too late," he added, bitterly. 
 
 "And our dear father meant all for the best! He
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 315 
 
 wished only the happiness of his children," muttered 
 Lilith, as if appealing to redeem his memory from 
 reproach. 
 
 "I forbid you to speak of Major Hereward, or even 
 to allude to him! You are unworthy to breathe his 
 name!" exclaimed Tudor Hereward, again losing his 
 self-command. 
 
 Lilith bowed her head, almost, it seemed, as if in 
 assent to this; for her veneration for her foster-father 
 was very great. 
 
 "But you are shifting, evading, prevaricating! And 
 you shall do so no longer!" he added, with stern de- 
 termination. "I told you that dishonor, such as you 
 have brought upon yourself and me, can have but one 
 termination. I ask you what you could advance 
 against such convicting evidence as the letter I have 
 just read. And now I have something else to tell you! 
 Another letter, a still more damning letter than this, 
 has fallen into my hands! Look up! Listen! I am 
 about to read it to you!" 
 
 "Oh, no! pray, pray don't! I am not responsible for 
 that letter! Oh, indeed I am not!" 
 
 "You cannot bear to listen! But you shall!" he 
 said, with cold and cruel scorn, as he drew Ancillon's 
 first letter from his breast pocket and began to read 
 it, while Lilith cowered in her chair and buried her 
 head in its cushions, as if she would have shut out the 
 sight of her husband's terrible face, and the sound of 
 the sickening words he read. 
 
 He read with cruel distinctness and deliberation 
 when he came to the closing paragraph 
 
 "So I shall take advantage of the old man's absence, 
 and run down there to cheer you up a bit! You will 
 get this letter on Monday morning. Expect to see me 
 on Monday evening."
 
 316 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 Hereward finished reading the letter. 
 
 Lilith never looked up from her position. 
 
 "Speak!" he angrily exclaimed. 
 
 "Oh, Tudor! What can I say? I can say nothing 
 of any weight, against the evidence of these letters, 
 these cruel letters, for which I am not responsible! 
 Yet! yet! I declare before high Heaven! in the 
 presence of the Lord who will be niy judge that no 
 wrong has been done you no wrong intended you, , 
 either by me or by by by any one else!" said Lilith, 
 fearful of uttering the offensive name of Ancillonj and 
 wringing her hands in the extremity of her distress. 
 
 "No wrong!" he exclaimed, trembling with sup- 
 pressed rage. "No wrong in such letters as these, 
 addressed by that man to you to you?" 
 
 "No, no wrong," she persisted, though in a low, 
 faint tone. 
 
 "And is that all you have to offer in justification? 
 A bald, stupid, impudent denial of an evident fact? 
 Nothing else?" 
 
 "Nothing else," she confessed, in a voice of despair. 
 
 "And you expect me to believe it?" 
 
 "No, I expect nothing, Tudor," she sighed. 
 
 "By my honor, you shall not call me by my name!" 
 Do not dare to offend to insult me in that way again. 
 Where is that man now?" he suddenly burst forth. 
 
 "I do not know, sir," said Lilith, in a dying voice; 
 adding, faintly, after a short pause: "You read in that 
 last letter that he was at Frosthill yesterday morn- 
 ing, intending to go to Chicago. I know no more than 
 that." 
 
 "He has been here, however, according to his own 
 appointment?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "On Monday afternoon." 
 
 "And you received him?"
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 317 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "How long did he stay?" 
 
 "Until ten o'clock." 
 
 "And you entertained him during all that time?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And yet 'No wrong has been done, no wrong in- 
 tended?' " he exclaimed, in bitter sarcasm. 
 
 "Xo, no wrong whatever," said Lilith. 
 
 He sprang to his feet with a fierce exclamation. 
 
 "I tell you, wretched girl, that men have slain 
 women for such wrongs as these!" 
 
 Lilith was shocked, but quickly controlled herself, 
 though she cowered in the chair and shuddered with 
 horror. 
 
 He was pacing excitedly up and down the floor. 
 
 Suddenly he stopped beside her. 
 
 She looked up with a wild, startled, appealing ex- 
 pression in her dark eyes. 
 
 "Be still!" he said. "You have nothing to fear from 
 me! I regard the laws of God. I would not kill you, 
 although you have dishonored me! I will not even 
 bring you into court to expose your wickedness and my 
 humiliation to the world although these letters in 
 my possession are sufficient to convict you and free 
 me in any divorce court in Christendom ! But I shall 
 not the less surely repudiate you, and forbid you to 
 bear my name, or to speak of me as in any manner 
 related to yourself, or to speak of my honored father. 
 I shall forbid you to do this, under pain of the legal 
 penalties I am able to inflict upon you." 
 
 Lilith had risen to her feet, and was looking at her 
 husband, a strange change coming over the childlike 
 face and form ; as if by some magic transformation she 
 was turning into a mature woman. 
 
 For a moment she rested one arm on the back of her 
 chair, as if for support, while she looked up to his 
 face and inquired, in a low, slow, distinct tone:
 
 318 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Mr. Hereward, do you mean what you say?" 
 "Do I mean it? I mean every word that I have said, 
 and much more than I care to say! How dare you 
 stand there, looking at me in that insolent way? Do 
 you wish to madden me? Go! Leave my sight! Leave 
 the room while I have some remnant of self-command 
 left. And do not venture into my view again. In a 
 few hours I shall have left my father's house behind 
 me, never to return while you desecrate it with your 
 presence!" 
 
 What a transformation had come over the timid 
 young face and form! Was this Lilith, the shrinking 
 child-wife, who but a little while ago cowered, tremb- 
 ling like a most guilty culprit under the cruel charges 
 and fierce wrath of her husband? Was this the same 
 Lilith who now came and stood before him, pale, but 
 firm and self-possessed, as she spoke in a clear, calm 
 yoice: 
 
 "No, Mr. Hereward, I cannot turn you out of your 
 father's house. It is I who must leave it." 
 
 "Do not stand there and look at me. Do not speak 
 to me. Do not tempt me. Go! go!" he exclaimed, 
 scarcely knowing what he said. 
 
 "Farewell!" she said, and turning, left the room. 
 Hours passed. 
 
 The negroes in the kitchen, who had seen the arrival 
 of Mr. Hereward, and were expecting a -summons to 
 the parlor to receive orders from their Distress, 
 waited long in vain. Twice Steve had gone to the 
 parlor door, twice he found it locked, and had retired 
 discreetly, without rapping. 
 
 Twice Nancy had been startled by a shriek from her 
 mistress. The first time she had understood it as a 
 cry of surprise at the sudden appearance of Mr. Here- 
 ward, who had surprised them all, in point of fact. 
 The second time she had hurried to the parlor, but
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 319 
 
 still finding it locked, and hearing her master's voice 
 in stern tones, she had withdrawn, saying to herself: 
 
 "He's telling ob her some drefful fing as has happen' 
 maybe dat railway acciden', as mought 'a' been 
 more sarous dan was 'ported by Steve." 
 
 The dinner hour came on, and the table was set in 
 the dining-room for two, and still there came no sign 
 of a summons from the parlor. 
 
 Dinner was placed on the table and the bell rung, 
 but without effect. 
 
 Then Steve was told to go to the parlor door, and 
 tell the master and mistress that dinner was on the 
 table. 
 
 Steve went and rapped. 
 
 "Well?" said the master from within. 
 
 "Dinner, is waitin', sah." 
 
 "I do not want any. Don't interrupt me again." 
 
 Steve went and reported to Nancy. 
 
 "De young marster and mist'ess is been habbin' ob a 
 breeze, sure's yer born. Somefin wrong twix' dem two. 
 Wot did de young mist'ess say? Didn' she want no 
 dinner neider?" 
 
 "I reckon not, A'n' Nancy, 'caze she nebber said 
 nuffin." 
 
 "Well, bes' way is to let 'em alone till deir appetite 
 comes to 'em. It will be sure to come 'fo' long," said 
 the woman. 
 
 Dinner grew cold on the table, and still there was no 
 movement from the parlor. 
 
 Night fell. Supper was served. The bell was rung. 
 But no one came out from the parlor. 
 
 "I'll go see wot's de matter now," said Nancy. 
 
 And, with the freedom of the oldest and most 
 favored servant in the house, she went to the parlor 
 door, opened it, and entered the room. 
 
 The place was cold and dark. The fire had gone out, 
 and no lamp had been lighted. She could not see if
 
 320 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 there was any one there. Something about the place 
 seemed to strike a chill to her spirit as well as to her 
 flesh. She called out: 
 
 "Miss Lilif ! Marse Tudor." 
 
 There was no response. 
 
 She shivered. 
 
 " 'Deed, de place is like de desolation ob 'bomina- 
 tion, as de Second Adwenturers say. Here, Steve, 
 fetch a light!" she called down the dark passage. 
 
 The man speedily appeared with a tallow candle in 
 his hand. 
 
 They entered the parlor together, but found no one 
 there. 
 
 "Dey ain't in de long drawin'-room, 'caze dere ain't 
 been no fire in dere for weeks an' weeks. Maybe dey 
 is up in Miss Lilif's room. I'll go up dere an' see." 
 
 And up Nancy went, followed by Steve with the 
 candle. 
 
 The fire was low in Lilith's chamber, but no sign of 
 master or mistress was there. 
 
 They went through all the upper rooms without find- 
 ing the young pair. 
 
 "Sich goin's on! I calls it flyin', I do, indeed 
 flyin'!" grumbled Nancy, coming downstairs from her 
 fruitless errand. 
 
 "It's jes' like 'playin' hide-an'-whoop,' ain't it, A'n' 
 Nancy?"- said Steve. 
 
 "Whey in dis worl' can dey be? Sure dey ain't gone 
 out to take a walk on sich a bitter, bitter cole night as. 
 dis? An' dey ain't in de house, certain," said Nancy, 
 after she had gone through the whole building in her 
 vain search. 
 
 "It is 'sterious, ain't it, Nancy?" said Steve. 
 
 " 'Sterious?' 'Sterious doan begin to 'scribe it. I 
 feels like I was in a bad dream, a awful bad dream. 
 Come now, Steve, shet de dinin'-room shetters; it's
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 321 
 
 gettin' cole as Canady," said the woman, as the two 
 paused near the door. 
 
 The dining-room, as we have said before, was in the 
 rear of Lilith's little parlor. Its windows looked out 
 upon the grounds behind the house. 
 
 Steve went to close the shutters, but started back 
 with a cry. 
 
 "Wot's de matter wid de fool now?" demanded 
 Nancy. " Has yer seen a ghost?" 
 
 " 'Deed, Lor' knows, A'n' Nancy! I fought fus' it 
 was a ghost. But it on'y Marse Tudor comin' up f'om 
 de crik an' lookin' as w'ite as a sheet," replied the boy, 
 recovering himself. 
 
 "Marse Tudor?" 
 
 "Yes, A'n' Nancy." 
 
 "Comin' up f'om de crik?" 
 
 "Yes, A'n' Nancy." 
 
 "Marse Tudor comin' up f'om de ciik dis time o' 
 night?" 
 
 "Yes, I tell yer, A'n' Nancy. Ef yer doan believe me 
 come an' see for yerse'f," said Steve, making way for 
 the woman to look out from the window. 
 
 Yes, there he was. Nancy could not deny it. Tudor 
 Hereward, advancing from the direction of the creek, 
 with his face looking ghastly pale in the full moon- 
 light. 
 
 A few minutes later he entered the house. 
 
 "Has yer seen anyfing ob Miss Lilif, sah?" inquired 
 Nancy, going to meet him. 
 
 "No! Is she not in her room?" demanded the mas- 
 ter, in ill-concealed agitation. 
 
 "She i.i not in de house, sah, dat is certain," said 
 Nancy, becoming vaguely alarmed. 
 
 "Have you looked for her?" 
 
 "Ebbery hole an' corner, young marse. An* w'ich 
 dere ain't no oak-chists, nor mistletoe boughs, nor 
 baron's halls for her to get trapped into neider," re-
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 plied Nancy, with a shudder at the recollections of the 
 ghastly song. 
 
 Tudor Hereward changed color. 
 
 "Give me that candle, Stephen," he said, "and go 
 back to the kitchen, both of you. I will ring if I need 
 you." 
 
 And he took the light from Stephen's hand to search 
 the house himself. 
 
 He went upstairs to begin the search in Lilith's own 
 room. 
 
 And there he found that he need search no further. 
 His eyes fell upon something that had escaped the 
 notice of the two negro servants. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 GONE 
 
 IT was a letter, pinned to the pin-cushion on the 
 dressing bureau. 
 
 He snatched it up, went and locked the door to se- 
 cure himself from intrusion, and then returned and 
 stood by the chimney corner to read the letter by the 
 light of the lamp on the mantel-piece. 
 
 On the inside it was without date or address, and 
 read as if it had been poured out from the writer's 
 heart and brain at a white heat. It began somewhat 
 abruptly, as follows: 
 
 "You have sent me away from you. You have told 
 me that in a few hours you will leave this, your patri- 
 monial home, never to return to it while I 'desecrate it' 
 with my presence. But you need not abandon your 
 father's house on my account, Tudor. You have told 
 me to leave you. And I obey you, as I have always
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 323 
 
 obeyed you. While you are reading this letter I shall 
 be speeding away. 
 
 "You have said that you never loved me that you 
 only married me to please your dying father. 
 
 "Oh, Tudor, from my childhood up, I had been 
 taught to love and honor you, and this love and honor 
 grew and strengthened into an adoration and worship 
 second only to that I owe and give to the Heavenly 
 Father. I never thought myself worthy to be your 
 wife. When you asked me to become your wife, I con- 
 sented in obedience to your father's wishes and to 
 what I supposed to be your own I consented gladly 
 wondering at the honor and happiness offered me. 
 
 "I never questioned that you loved me, I never 
 even thought to question it. I loved and trusted you, 
 and you had asked me for myself. That was enough 
 for me. 
 
 "But, oh, Tudor! If I had not loved and honored you 
 next to our Heavenly Lord, and had not taken it on 
 trust that you loved me, I never would have con- 
 sented to be your wife; I never would have been a 
 party to that sacrilege committed beside the death-bed 
 of your father no, not even to have pleased that be- 
 loved and dying father. But it was done done in the 
 innocence of ignorance by me. 
 
 "Since our marriage I have tried to serve you and 
 please you. Only the Lord knows with what zeal and 
 delight I tried to make myself agreeable and accept- 
 able to you. But it was all wasted worship, because 
 you did not love me. 
 
 "And, Mr. Here ward, I am at this moment suffering 
 some self-scorn for such man-worship. 
 
 "Now, as to this last unspeakable charge that you 
 have made against me. If it were possible that it 
 should be true, it should separate us forever and ever. 
 And as it is not true, it must separate us until you 
 yourself shall discover its falsity, realize the depth of
 
 324 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 the wrong you have done me, and come to me not 
 with an apology that I do not want but with a full 
 and complete retraction. 
 
 "Oh, Tudor! After all your father's life-long knowl- 
 edge and love of his adopted child; after all our old 
 neighbors' esteem and affection for me, from my child- 
 hood up; after all that you have seen and known of 
 me; after all our close communion of heart and mind, 
 how could you think such deadly evil even possible for 
 me? Surely if it had been, some sign of it would have 
 shown even in my childhood, for even children show 
 some indications of character. And when did you ever 
 hear of me, from your father's friends or neighbors 
 who have known me intimately from infancy, any sign 
 of falsehood, treachery, insincerity, or any other form 
 of immorality? 
 
 "And yet in the face of my well-known spotless and 
 blameless record, you charge me with unutterable evil 
 upon the mere accidents of circumstantial evidence 
 and outward appearances! 
 
 "Oh, Tudor! My faith in you was stronger than 
 that! If over your head had lowered a cloud of cir- 
 cumstantial evidence, heavy and dark enough to 
 blacken your reputation in the eyes of all the world, 
 yet would not I have believed any evil of you! One 
 word of yours would have been stronger than all that 
 evidence. And yet I would not have wronged you by 
 requiring even that one word to be spoken! I could 
 not have thought any evil of you! No, nor do I even 
 now, when you have wronged and banished me! al- 
 though I cannot now worship you as I have done; 
 cannot even think of you as I once did; cannot ascribe 
 to you the wisdom and goodness I once believed you 
 to possess. For, Tudor, if you had been as wise and 
 good as I once supposed you to be, you could never 
 have married me without love; never have misunder-
 
 325 
 
 stood my nature ; never have condemned me upon cir- 
 cumstantial evidence. 
 
 "You would have seen me and known truth through 
 all the cloud of mystery that enveloped me. 
 
 "I am your true wife, holding your authority over 
 me second only to the Lord's. But, Tudor, I am no 
 'Griselda' to lay myself beneath your feet and suffer 
 you, in trampling upon me, to tread justice and 
 humanity into the dust. 
 
 "Although you say you never loved me, yet you 
 made me your own; and because you made me your 
 own your own most intimate own your second self 
 I must speak to you as yourself to yourself. 
 
 "I go now because you have sent me away; I shall 
 never throw myself in your way, neither shall I try to 
 conceal myself from you. But I go, never to return 
 until you yourself discover your wrong, retract your 
 charge, and with perfect love and trust seek me out 
 and ask me to come to you. Then I will return to be 
 all that I have been to you up to this day when your 
 insane act drives me away. LILITH." 
 
 Tudor Hereward read this letter with such a conflict 
 of feeling that on finishing he tore it to shreds and 
 threw it into the fire, where it was burned to ashes. 
 
 The next instant he regretted his hasty act. And 
 the time was destined to come when he would bitterly 
 lament the destruction of that letter; when he would 
 have given his whole fortune for its recovery, had 
 that been possible. 
 
 He threw himself into the arm-chair before the fire, 
 where he sat in deeply troubled thought. 
 
 It was a bitterly cold night, as the weather-wise 
 negroes had predicted that it would be. The wind was 
 blowing a gale from the northwest. Every sheet and 
 stream of water would be hard frozen before the morn- 
 ing. Where was Lilith to-night? he asked himself,
 
 326 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 conscience-stricken, although he still believed her to 
 be false, or rather tried to persuade himself that he 
 had full cause to do so. 
 
 "I did not drive the child from the house! I should 
 not have dreamed of doing such a thing on such a 
 night as this! I only ordered her from my presence! 
 Now where has she gone on this freezing night? To 
 the railway station, no doubt, first of all, to take the 
 train east. And to do this she must have ordered a 
 carriage. She tried to catch the eight o'clock train, 
 perhaps. If she succeeded she is off. If she missed 
 it she is still at the station waiting for the next train 
 the midnight train and I may yet overtake her and 
 stop her." 
 
 With this thought uppermost in his mind, Tudor 
 Hereward went downstairs to the cold and comfort- 
 less parlor, and rang the bell. 
 
 Nancy and Stephen both answered it, anxiety de- 
 picted on every feature of their faces. 
 
 "I have a note from your mistress. She has gone to 
 make a visit. Stephen, go down to the stable and ask 
 Peter, or any of the grooms you may find there, what 
 carriage and horses she ordered. I hope a closed car- 
 riage and safe horses, on such a night as this/' said 
 Mr. Hereward. 
 
 Stephen, much wondering at the aspect of affairs, 
 went on his errand. 
 
 Nancy, after standing in silence for a few moments, 
 broke out with: 
 
 "Now, wot in de name o' sense made Miss Lilif start 
 out dis cole night to make a wisit?" 
 
 As Mr. Hereward made no reply, Nancy started off 
 on another tack: 
 
 "Marse Tudor, yer nebber eat no dinner, an' now de 
 supper's gettin' spoil'. Won't yer come in an' eat 
 supper?" 
 
 "Presently," curtly responded the master.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 327 
 
 Stephen returned. 
 
 "Well?" anxiously demanded Mr. Hereward. 
 
 "Well, sah, de young mist'ess hasn't ordered no car- 
 riage, nor likewise bosses, f'om de stables. De young 
 mist'ess hasn't sent no orders to de stables wotsom'- 
 debber," said the man. 
 
 "Is that true?" demanded Mr. Hereward, in surprise 
 and disturbance. 
 
 "True as Gospel, young marster, as yer mought 
 prove by 'quirin' fo' yerse'f," said Stephen. 
 
 Mr. Hereward, somewhat to the surprise of his 
 servants, chose to inquire for himself. 
 
 Hastily drawing on his ulster, and slipping the hood 
 over his head, he went out and bent his steps to the 
 stables, facing the fierce northwest wind as he went. 
 
 At the stables he found Peter and Len, two of the 
 grooms who lived in the loft. 
 
 They corroborated the report of Stephen, and as a 
 final proof, showed the three carriages and six horses 
 that formed the establishment. 
 
 Lilith had not gone to the railway station, therefore 
 she must be near at hand; he would wait for the de- 
 velopments of the morning, he concluded. 
 
 He went into the dining-room and ate a little supper. 
 Then he ordered Stephen to shut up the house, and he 
 went upstairs and went to bed, well worn out in body 
 and mind; yet he could not sleep. 
 
 He passed the night sleeplessly and restlessly, and 
 arose early from his wearisome bed. He dressed him- 
 self in anxious haste, and went down to the parlor 
 where a good fire was burning. 
 
 He rang the bell. 
 
 Stephen answered it. 
 
 "Tell your mistress that I would like to see her," he 
 said, speaking on speculation. 
 
 "Yes, sah."
 
 328 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 The man left the room, and in a few minutes Nancy 
 entered. 
 
 "I s'pose yer knows, young marster, as we ain't seen 
 nuffin ob de young mist'ess since yes'day?" said the 
 woman anxiously. 
 
 "Yes; and now, Nancy, tell me where do you sup 
 pose she could have gone?" inquired the young man, 
 confidently, for Nancy had been his nurse, and he 
 knew that he could trust in her discretion. 
 
 "It has jes' come in my head whey she's gone, 
 maybe." 
 
 "Where, then?" anxiously demanded Mr. Hereward. 
 
 "Well, young marse, yer know dat ole auntie wot 
 libs by herse'f just 'cross de crik back ob de house ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes. What has she to do with the matter?" 
 
 "Heap mo'n yer fink, marse, maybe. Dat ole 'ornan 
 been laid up long ob de rheumatiz; so yes'day mornia' 
 'fo' yer come home, she sent a young w'ite gal here 
 beggin', an' de young mist'ess gib her a bundle of ole 
 close an' a basket ob 'visions, an' sent me long home to 
 help carry de fings." 
 
 "Well, but what has this to do with yojur mistress' 
 disappearance?" 
 
 "I gwine tell yer, marster. De young mist'ess, she 
 seemed mighty consarned about dat young gal, an' 
 couldn' get her off en her mine like; so I jes' finks as de 
 young mist'ess mought 'a' put on her cloak an' gone to 
 see dat young gal an' sick ole 'oman." 
 
 "I will go over there at once," exclaimed Mr. Here- 
 ward, rising. "But why has she not returned if she 
 went there?" 
 
 "Oh, marse, she might hab foun' dat anshun ole 
 'oman mighty bad, an' yer know how ten'er-hearted 
 Miss Lilif is. Ah, dere ain't many like her is. An' 
 so she mought 'a' stayed long ob her." 
 
 "And not sent word where she was, to prevent 
 anxiety here? Nonsense, Nancy."
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 329 
 
 'She mought liab sent word, an' de messenger neb- 
 ber come. Yer know how chillun is." 
 
 Here ward had by this time belted on his ulster, and 
 now he took his cap and left the room, to go on his 
 errand. He did not believe that Lilith was at the 
 creek hat, yet he went thither, hoping against despair. 
 
 He crossed the rustic bridge, which was nothing bet- 
 ter than a broad, heavy plank, without defence on 
 either side. Very slippery and unsafe was that plank 
 now, covered as it was with frozen snow as smooth as 
 glass, and sloping down to each edge, from which hung 
 a fringe of icicles. 
 
 But Hereward was so sure-footed that he passed 
 ver safely, and followed the narrow path that led 
 deep into the tangled thicket where the little log hut 
 stood. 
 
 Hereward knocked at the door. 
 
 A weak and querulous voice bade the visitor 
 
 "Come in." 
 
 He entered the hut, which consisted of but one 
 medium-sized room, lighted by one small window. 
 
 On the left-hand side stood a miserable bed, cov- 
 ered with heaps of old clothes old gowns, coats, 
 skirts, and so forth all past wear. Huddled under 
 these lay the rheumatic old negro woman. 
 
 Hereward's heart, notwithstanding his anxiety, was 
 struck with pity. 
 
 "Why, auntie," he said, standing by the squalid bed, 
 "I am really sorry to see you in this condition." 
 
 "Ah, Marse Tudor, how good it was in yer to come, 
 young marse! An' de fire gone out, an' I hab not had 
 nuffin to eat since las' night," continued the old 
 woman. 
 
 "Has not Mrs. Hereward been here to look after 
 you?" inquired the visitor. 
 
 "W'ich? De young mist'ess? Lor' now, marse, 
 who'd speck that deliky young lady to come to sich a
 
 330 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 po' place as dis, in sich wedder, too? No, she ain't 
 been yere, young marse; but she sent me wittals an' 
 close, plenty ob 'em; but little good dey do to me now 
 w'en I can't turn in bed, an' got nobody to han' me 
 nuffin." 
 
 "Where is the girl who was staying with you?" 
 inquired Mr. Hereward, who while they had been talk- 
 ing had not been idle, but had been gathering together 
 scattered straw, sticks, pine cones, and other rustic- 
 kindlings which littered the hut, and had piled them 
 into the cold fireplace, up which, at a stroke from the 
 match he drew from his pocket-case, they blazed 
 brightly. 
 
 "Oh, marse, dat do look so good an' feel so com- 
 fo'ble," said the old woman, rubbing her hands. "An' 
 dat young gal wot yer ax me 'bout, she's gone." 
 
 "Gone?" 
 
 "Yes, marse, gone an' lef me 'lone arter I had 
 shelter' her so many weeks!" 
 
 "How came she to leave you in this condition?" 
 
 "Her husban' come arter her an' took her 'way! 
 Yes, marse, he wot had 'glected her all de time w'en 
 we was so po', come an' pounce down on top ob us, 
 'jes w'en we had a plenty to eat an' drink, an' was 
 a-j'yin' oursefs wid all de good tea an' bread an' meat 
 as de young mist'ess had sent, he come in, so he did, 
 an' eat up all our f'ied ham an' eggs an' w'ite rolls an' 
 cold chicken, an' drank up ebery drop ob wine in de 
 bottle, an' put de flask ob b'andy in his pocket. An' 
 den he ax de young gal wot else de young mist'ess 
 had gib her, an' she told him 'bout de money an' fings. 
 An' den he said he was goin' way dat same night an' 
 she mus' get ready to go 'long ob him. An' so dey 
 pack up an' went an' tuk ebery bressed fing along wid 
 'em! Ebery bressed fing as de young mist'ess had 
 sent for bofe of us, dey took 'way an' lef me yere 'lone
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 33t 
 
 by myse'f. But I doan blame her, po' dear gal! She 
 had to do wot he said." 
 
 "Who was the fellow? Do you know his name?" 
 
 "Yer mean dat young 'oman's husban'?" 
 
 "Yes, I mean him. What was the ruffian's name? I 
 will have him arrested for robbery." 
 
 "Now wot was his name, ag'in? I have heerd it 
 often enuff, an' it was a funny name too. Lemmy 
 see Answer somefin or oder! Answer Answer- 
 much Answer-loud Answer-long! Dat was it, mars- 
 ter! Answerlong!" 
 
 "ANCILLON!" exclaimed Hereward, in surprise. 
 
 "Yes, marster, dat was it! A Mister Alfud 
 Answer-long an awful big rogue too." 
 
 "I have no doubt of it! Well, my poor woman, I 
 will hurry home and send Nancy and Stephen here 
 with all that you require to make you comfortable; 
 and one of the younger girls shall come and stay with 
 you until you get better," said Hereward, as he arose 
 to go. 
 
 "Young marse, I's 'shame' to ax yer, but would yer 
 min' lookin' in de cupboard dere to see if yer kin fine 
 any little crumb or crust ob bread fo' me to nibble on 
 w'ile I'm waitin' fo' de fings yer's gwine to sen' me by 
 Nancy? 'Deed I's 'shame' to bodder yer 'bout it, young 
 marse; but I feels awful bad t'rough not eatin' nuffin." 
 
 Before she had got half through her speech, Here- 
 ward had gone to the corner cupboard and fished out 
 from its litter not only a part of a cold roll, but a 
 shred of cold ham, which he brought to the woman, 
 together with a tin can of water, to procure which 
 he had to break through a thick crust of ice that had 
 frozen over it in the pail. 
 
 All his thoughts were thrown into confusion by 
 what he had just heard of Ancillon. He was clear on 
 but one point be should get out a warrant for the 
 arrest of the man on the charge of having robbed the
 
 332 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 old sick woman of the money and goods that had been 
 sent for her relief. 
 
 As soon as he reached home, Nancy came with an 
 anxious face to meet him at the back door, by which 
 he entered the house. 
 
 Anticipating her questions, he said: 
 
 "Your mistress has not been at the creek hut." 
 
 "Now w'ere de name ob de Lor' can dat young 
 creetur be?" groaned the woman. 
 
 "She probably walked out to visit some neighbor, 
 and has been detained by the very cold weather," re- 
 plied Hereward, trying to persuade himself to believe 
 in his own improbable theory. 
 
 "You must take Stephen No, by the way, I shall 
 want Stephen. You had better take Peter and the 
 handcart, filled with everything most needful, and go 
 to the hut. Also, take with you one of the younger 
 girls to leave with the sick woman until she gets 
 better. I must put the case entirely in your hands, 
 Nancy, as I shall go to the village immediately. As 
 you go out send me in a cup of coffee, and tell Stephen 
 to put the gray horse to the buggy, and have it at the 
 door as soon as possible," said Mr. Hereward. 
 
 Nancy left the parlor, full of wonder and distress 
 on account of the disappearance of her young mis- 
 tress, and at the very inadequate anxiety of her 
 master. 
 
 " 'Pears to me he ought to be alinos' c'azy 'bout de 
 young mist'ess, but he ain't! He's on'y a little sort 
 ob oneasy, an' dat is all. Wen a body would fink 
 as he'd be ready to go ravin' mad! An' she not been 
 seen since yes'day arternoon!" 
 
 Hereward was not nearly so indifferent as Nancy 
 had supposed him to be. Since Lilith's disappearance 
 he had made a discovery that he loved her more 
 than he had known. Since reading her letter he had
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 63S 
 
 made another discovery that he doubted her less and 
 respected her more than he had known. 
 
 And now he was deeply troubled on more than one 
 account. He was most anxious for the safety of 
 Lilith a child who knew nothing of the world, and 
 yet had thrown herself unprotected and unadvised 
 upon the world. Then he was most anxious, also, for 
 the respect of his neighbors. He could not bear to 
 think that one iota of that respect should be forfeited 
 through any means, least of all through anything con- 
 nected with his domestic life. 
 
 But now her own act had upset all his plans, and not 
 only his plans, but his opinions also; for he could not 
 divest himself of the conviction that she had behaved 
 with the forbearance, self-respect and dignity that 
 might have become a dethroned queen. He could not 
 do otherwise than recant all his base, injurious 
 thoughts of her; he could not but honor her. 
 
 In the meantime, however, where was she? And 
 how could he ever answer the questions of her friends, 
 his own old neighbors, when they should inquire, 
 "Where is she?" How, also, would this rnysterioua 
 disappearance of his wife affect the question of his 
 re-election? For the ambitious young statesman 
 thought even of that. 
 
 Yet it is only fair to say that the question of Lilith'a 
 safety was the one that gave him the most anxiety. 
 
 In the midst of his disturbed thoughts one of the 
 housemaids brought him the cup of coffee he had 
 ordered, and also the announcement that the buggy 
 was at the door. 
 
 He drank the coffee hastily, entered the buggy, and 
 drove off to Frosthill. 
 
 Then, by covert questionings, he tiied to discover 
 whether any one had seen Mrs. Hereward. But he 
 gained no tidings of her. 
 
 He laid a complaint against one Alfred Ancillon 

 
 834 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 before the justice of the peace, and got out a warrant 
 for his arrest. 
 
 Then he went home. 
 
 But days passed without news of Lilith, or of the 
 man whom the constables were hunting. 
 
 At length, at the end of a week of fruitless waiting, 
 watching, and hunting, Tudor Hereward returned to 
 (Washington City. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 A TERRIBLE DISCOVERY 
 
 TUDOR HEREWARD arrived at the capital in a very 
 unenviable state of mind. He felt that he had driven 
 his young wife from her home, as surely, as inevitably, 
 as if he had taken her by the shoulders and thrust her 
 out of doors, and turned the key against her on that 
 bitter March night when she disappeared from the 
 neighborhood. 
 
 It is true that he had not expected her timid child 
 that he thought her to take him so promptly at his 
 word; he had only meant to reproach her, to punish 
 her, and humiliate her by making her feel what he 
 thought of the baseness of her conduct; but he had 
 meant to leave her, the next morning, in peaceable 
 possession of the Cliffs, until after the adjournment 
 of Congress, when he would have leisure to attend to 
 her case, to put her away quietly and provide for her. 
 
 The letter she had addressed to him had forestalled 
 all fear that she had, in country parlance, "made 'way 
 with herself." That letter had also shaken down to 
 the dust all his doubts of Lilith's integrity. The mys- 
 tery of her acquaintance with Ancillon still remained, 
 but as a mystery only, not as an evidence of evil. 
 All his wrath now was turned upon Ancillon, who he 
 
 I
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 335 
 
 believed had won his wife's compassion by some false 
 story, concerning which he had bound her to secrecy. 
 He might have represented himself to her as her 
 uncle, or even as her brother. How could she know 
 any better, who had never known her parents except 
 by hear-say, or her parents' family even by report? 
 So now reasoned Tudor Hereward on the theme of 
 Alfred Ancillon. 
 
 Other memories also, which should have been pres- 
 ent with him and considered in the hour of his mad 
 passion, now came too late in the shape of sober 
 second thoughts. They had been suggested not only 
 by his experience of her, but by her letter. 
 
 When had he ever heard a single word in his own 
 family, or out of it, against her conduct? 
 
 His late father, too, who had brought Lilith up from 
 babyhood, and who so loved and esteemed her that he 
 wished her, above all other women, to become the wife 
 of his beloved and only son was no such fool as to be 
 deceived in her character and disposition. 
 
 His old neighbors, too, who had known Lilith inti- 
 mately from her childhood, and who, because she was 
 humbly born an interloper in their old county circles 
 would have been sure to detect flaws in her nature, 
 had there been flaws to detect, could find no fault 
 in her at all. 
 
 And yet he, her husband, who should have known 
 her better than all others, could, in his jealous pas- 
 sion, forget all her blameless life, all her love and de- 
 votion to his late father, all her adoration of himself, 
 all the consecration of her young heart and brain and 
 hands to his constant, untiring service; and he could, 
 upon merely circumstantial evidence, suspect, insult 
 and discard her! And now she had taken him at his 
 word and she had gone! The only right, proper and 
 dignified course she could have taken. He admitted 
 this.
 
 336 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 But, poor, desolate child that she was, where could 
 she have gone? 
 
 He could not even conjecture. Nor could he seek 
 her or make inquiries about her, as people do for other 
 missing ones; because to have done so would have 
 made a neighborhood sensation that might have de- 
 veloped into a social scandal. And this he shrank 
 from with all his soul. He had, therefore, conducted 
 his search for Lilith upon the most secret and cautious 
 principles. 
 
 With the same caution, and without ever mention- 
 ing his wife's departure, he investigated everywhere 
 in the village and at the railway station; but without 
 any success. 
 
 Finally, when he felt convinced that she was no- 
 where in the neighborhood, and suspected that she 
 had contrived to reach the railway station and get 
 on the cars without being recognized, he had given 
 up the search in that neighborhood and determined 
 to return to Washington and pursue his search there. 
 
 He had cautioned his servants, upon the pain of his 
 severest anger, not to talk of their mistress in any 
 manner, adding that he hoped to find her in Washing- 
 ton. And he had left them full of sorrow and dismay. 
 
 On his arrival in the city his first care was to engage 
 the exclusive service of a private detective. 
 
 Having thus put the case in the best and most dis- 
 creet hands, he applied himself to his official work 
 with what heart he could. 
 
 To all inquiries after his wife he would answer that 
 her health had not improved, but that he hoped it 
 would do so. And thus he tried to ward off suspicion 
 that anything else but health was out of order. 
 
 He hoped and prayed to get some trace of her and 
 bring her back before the fact of her departure from 
 him should become the property of gossips and the 
 scandal-mongers, political as well as social, as it cer-
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 337 
 
 tainly would do in Lilith's prolonged absence, and as 
 certainly be made a terrible weapon for his downfall 
 and humiliation in the next election. 
 
 But days followed days and no news of Lilith came 
 to comfort him. All the efforts of the skilled detective 
 failed to find a single trace of her. 
 
 He also hit upon another plan. He put in the per- 
 sonal advertising column of all the leading papers a 
 cautiously worded advertisement inviting the exile to 
 return. 
 
 But week followed week, and no response came. 
 
 At last he began to fear that some fatal evil had 
 befallen Lilith; not that she herself had been driven 
 to any desperate deed he had too much faith in her 
 religion to believe her capable of such a sin but he 
 feared that through her very innocence and inex- 
 perience she might have "fallen among thieves," and 
 might have been brought to destruction. 
 
 He was still in this state of mind when about the 
 middle of April, as he was one morning leaving his 
 hotel to go to the House, a telegram was put in his 
 hands. That was in itself nothing very unusual. 
 
 So he opened this one quite coolly as he stood near 
 the office counter. 
 
 But his cheek grew ashen and his lips were com- 
 pressed as he read the following dispatch from the 
 rector of St. Mark's : 
 
 "FROSTHILL, April 15th, 18. 
 
 "To THE HON. TUDOR HEREWARD, WASHINGTON CITY: 
 Come at once to Cloud Cliffs. A terrible discovery 
 has been made. "CLEMENT CAVE." 
 
 For one instant he stood panic-stricken; then 
 glanced quickly at the office clock, saw that he had 
 just ten minutes to secure the next train, started at
 
 338 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 once for the avenue, signaled a hackman, jumped into 
 the hack, and said : 
 
 "Double fare if you catch the express!" 
 
 The man started his horses at a brisk rate, and 
 reached the depot as soon as possible. 
 
 Hereward sprang out of the hack, thrust the 
 promised reward into the driver's hand, rushed 
 through the gate, and jumped on the train just as it 
 was leaving the depot. 
 
 Not until he was in his seat did Hereward recover 
 his breath or his self-possession. 
 
 Then he took the telegram and read it again: 
 
 "Come at once to Cloud Cliffs. A terrible discovery 
 has been made." 
 
 What had happened? Why could not the writer of 
 that telegram have spoken out plainly? 
 
 "A terrible discovery." 
 
 It concerned his missing wife. Of that alone he felt 
 assured. But in what way did it concern her? 
 
 Why could not the rector have told him exactly 
 what had happened? 
 
 Then, with the suddenness of a sword-thrust, the 
 truth struck Hereward that Mr. Cave had written thus 
 vaguely though alarmingly to prepare him for the 
 shock of some calamity too great to be conveyed by 
 telegram something worse than death, if worse could 
 happen to him or to his! 
 
 Tortured and oppressed by these poignant and 
 gloomy thoughts, Tudor Hereward spent the hours on 
 the train that was rushing him rapidly towards his 
 home. 
 
 It was just five o'clock when the train stopped at 
 Frosthill. 
 
 Hereward sprang out at once and looked anxiously 
 around.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 339 
 
 There was but one carriage on the stand, and that 
 was the rockaway from the Cliffs, with Stephen on the 
 box. It drew up to the platform, and the Rev. Mr. 
 Cave alighted from it, and with a pale and distressed 
 countenance advanced to meet Hereward, who breath- 
 lessly demanded: 
 
 "What has happened? Speak out, in Heaven's 
 name!" 
 
 "Hush! Collect yourself. Be firm. I will tell you 
 when we get away from here," said the rector, as he 
 took a firm hold of the young man's arm and urged 
 him into the carriage. 
 
 The next instant they were seated side by side and 
 rolling away towards Cloud Cliffs. 
 
 "Is it about Lilith?" exclaimed Hereward, as soon 
 as they were in their places. 
 
 "Yes, it is about your wife," gravely responded the 
 rector. 
 
 "But what what about Lilith? What has hap- 
 pened to her?" 
 
 "When did you see your wife last, Hereward?" eva- 
 sively inquired Mr. Cave. 
 
 "Weeks ago! That is not the question. Lilith! Is 
 she LIVING? Tell me THAT!" came like a cry from 
 the tortured heart. 
 
 The rector took hold of his shaking hand, and speak- 
 ing tenderly and solemnly, answered. 
 
 "Not in this world, my poor friend; but living, we 
 trust, in a better one." 
 
 "Lilith dead! Lilith DEAD!" cried the young 
 man, with an anguish in tone and look that the Chris* 
 tian minister could not endure to behold. 
 
 "Dead to this world, Hereward, but alive to a 
 better one," compassionately answered the rector. 
 
 Hereward sank back in his seat with a groan that
 
 340 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 seemed to rend his bosom. He asked no more ques- 
 tions then. 
 
 Lilith was dead! 
 
 The innocent child-wife who had been the tender, 
 faithful, devoted daughter to his father, the loving, 
 worshiping, ministering wife to him, whom he had 
 driven from his home, into the pitiless world, had 
 come to her death, as it was indeed most likely that 
 she should. 
 
 The Lord had taken home the child that he had cast 
 out. 
 
 Lilith was dead! 
 
 That was all; and in that was the sum of agony 
 complete. 
 
 The rector sat holding the hand of the stricken man 
 in silent sympathy, venturing no word of consolation, 
 because just then and there such words would have 
 been worse than useless. 
 
 Minutes passed before Hereward spoke again. Then, 
 in a broken voice, he asked: 
 
 "Where? when? how did she die?" 
 
 "Will you not trust my friendship my discretion 
 when I counsel you not to talk more of this misfor- 
 tune just at present?" gently inquired the rector. 
 
 "But I must know. And after hearing that 
 Lilith is dead I can bear anything else under the sun. 
 Tell me all!" said the miserable husband, persistently. 
 "How did my child die?" 
 
 "We think it was an accident," gravely replied the 
 rector. 
 
 "Accident!" echoed the young man, with an ap- 
 palled look. "Then it was sudden violent? Oh, 
 Lilith!" 
 
 "It was sudden, but not violent," said the rector, 
 gently taking the hand of the heavily stricken man. 
 "It was an easy, painless passage to the better world. 
 Oh, Hereward! my dear friend, bear up!"
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 341 
 
 But the remorseful husband had dropped his head 
 in his open hands, and his sobs shook his whole 
 frame. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 AT PEACE 
 
 THE rector, feeling the most painful sympathy with 
 the husband's agony of grief, yet conscious how 
 utterly helpless he himself was to mitigate that, 
 agony, and how much worse than vain, how imper- 
 tinent, all words of attempted consolation must seem, 
 sat by his friend, holding his hand in silence. 
 
 "What was the manner of her death?" at length 
 inquired Hereward, in a very low voice of enforced 
 steadiness. 
 
 "It was quick and pitiless. She was drowned," ten- 
 derly and solemnly replied the rector. 
 
 " 'Drowned!' 'Drowned!' Lilith 'drowned!' " groaned 
 the young man, in a tone of deepest anguish, shud- 
 dering through his whole frame. 
 
 "Oh, Hereward, Hereward! would to Heaven I could 
 say or do aught to help or comfort you! No mortal 
 can do that. There is but One who can both 
 strengthen and console. Call on Him, dear friend." 
 
 "How did this happen?" inquired the young 
 husband, in a broken voice. 
 
 "Can you bear to hear the details?" gravely ques- 
 tioned Dr. Cave. 
 
 "Yes! I have borne to hear that she is dead that 
 she was drowned I can bear to hear anything after 
 that. Tell me all everything." replied Hereward. 
 
 "Then we have reason to believe that on the last 
 afternoon when she was alive she went out alone ta
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 visit a sick negro woman who lives in a hut in the 
 thicket on the other side of the creek " 
 
 "Yes, yes! I know! Go on!" 
 
 "It was growing very cold; the creek was covered 
 with a thin layer of ice, and the narrow plank bridge 
 was sheathed in ice, and its sides are undefended." 
 
 "Yes, yes, yes! Go on!" 
 
 "It seems that in crossing she must have slipped 
 and fallen off the bridge, and through the ice." 
 
 "Oh, Lilith! Lilith!" wailed Hereward. 
 
 The rector took his hand and pressed it with deep 
 emotion. 
 
 "Go on," said the young man. 
 
 "Before the next morning the creek was frozen to 
 the bottom. Before the next night it was covered with 
 a deep fall of snow." 
 
 "I know! I know!" 
 
 "Therefore, you understand, the mortal remains of 
 our beloved one were concealed from view." 
 
 "But in the thaw and freshet " 
 
 "In the great freshet, when every mountain spring 
 became a cascade, and the creek became a torrent, it 
 seems that the force of the current carried the body 
 down into a ravine in the lowest, densest part of the 
 thicket, half a mile below the rustic bridge, to a spot 
 where it lay hidden until this morning, when it was 
 accidentally discovered by young Hilary." 
 
 "Why do you stop? Do not spare me. Go on. 
 Tell me all. How did he happen to find it?" 
 
 "Young Hilary was out with his gun and dogs, after 
 birds, early this morning. They started a covey in 
 that very thicket and that led to the discovery. 
 Do not ask me for details here, my friend. I cannot 
 give them. Hilary did not recognize the body; but 
 he summoned the nearest assistance at hand and had 
 the remains taken to Cloud Cliffs, which was the 
 nearest house, and the coroner was sent for."
 
 "Who first recognized the body?" 
 
 "The servants at Cloud Cliffs; and they only by the 
 hair, shoes and clothing. Then they sent for me, as a 
 friend of the family, and I telegraphed for you before 
 going to the Cliffs." 
 
 "Did you see it?" moaned Hereward, in an al- 
 most inaudible voice. 
 
 "Yes," replied the rector, in a low tone. 
 
 "And did you recognize her?" 
 
 "Yes positively. I could have sworn that it was 
 the body of our dear one from the beautiful hair, 
 and the general appearance. But let us not talk about 
 this, dear Hereward. You must brace yourself to 
 meet a severe trial. We are drawing near the Cliffs, 
 you know, where the coroner's inquest is sitting. You 
 will be expected to appear before it to answer any 
 questions that they may put to you. And I would 
 have you firm and self-possessed, as I have always 
 known you to be on trying occasions," said Mr. Cave, 
 earnestly. 
 
 "But this this! Ah, Heaven! how shall I meet 
 this?" 
 
 They were turning into the drive that led to the 
 house as Hereward said this, burying his face in his 
 hands. 
 
 A crowd, such as is always attracted by a sensa- 
 tional tragedy in real life, had collected around the 
 house. They filled the piazza and all the ground for 
 an acre about the premises. 
 
 "There are about ten times as many people on the 
 spot as there were when I left the house this morn- 
 ing," muttered the rector to himself, as he gazed upon 
 the assembled multitude. 
 
 "I should scarcely have thought that there were so 
 many people in the county," said Hereward, as he 
 looked up at the words of his companion. 
 
 "Geet out'n de way, can't yer? Cornfoun' yer! Does
 
 344 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 yer want to be druv over and killed? Sarve yer right 
 ef yer was," grumbled Stephen on the box, as he drove 
 his horses slowly and half rearing through the crowd 
 that blocked the avenue, but that stumbled and 
 floundered away to the right and left to make room 
 for the carriage to pass. 
 
 Stephen drew up his horses before the principal 
 entrance, in the midst of a throng of people. 
 
 Mr. Cave got out first, and then gave his hand to 
 assist Hereward, who walked like an old man as they 
 ascended the stairs and passed through the crowded 
 piazza into the crowded hall. 
 
 "Will you go up to your room and rest, Hereward, 
 before you go to the inquest?" kindly inquired Mr. 
 Cave. 
 
 "No, no, I will not spare myself. I will go before 
 the coroner at once. Where is the inquest held?" 
 
 "In the long drawing-room, which, being the most 
 spacious apartment in the house, was thought to be 
 the most convenient for the purpose." 
 
 "Come, then, I will go at once," repeated Hereward. 
 
 A bailiff stood at the door to keep back the pressure 
 of the crowd ; but he made way for the rector and the 
 stricken master of the house. 
 
 The room was full, but not crowded, because it was 
 not permitted to be so. 
 
 Dr. Kerr, who stood apparently on the watch for 
 Hereward's entrance, came towards him, and with a 
 silent pressure of the hand conducted him and his 
 companion to the upper end of the room to seats which 
 had been kept for them. 
 
 Hereward sank into one of these seats. The rector 
 placed himself on the right side and the doctor on the 
 left of their unhappy friend. 
 
 The centre of the room was occupied by two tables, 
 one long one, placed lengthwise, and covered with a 
 green cloth, at the head of which sat the coroner, and
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 345 
 
 at the sides the jury, six on the right and six on the 
 left. 
 
 The other table was placed crosswise at the foot of 
 the long table, and was draped with white from top to 
 floor. Something lay on this table covered with a 
 white sheet. It was easy to know what was concealed. 
 A strong odor of chloride of lime pervaded the air. 
 
 At this moment the coroner and jury were listening 
 to the deposition of a man with a mumbling voice, 
 who was telling how he helped to lift the body from 
 the ravine in which it was wedged and to bring it to 
 the house. He seemed to be awed or frightened half 
 to death, and the tones of his voice scarcely filled a 
 circle of three yards in circumference. 
 
 Hereward was duly sworn, and then the coroner 
 said: 
 
 "Mr. Hereward, will you look upon the dead lying 
 on that table before you, and tell the jury if you recog- 
 nize it?" 
 
 Dr. Kerr took the young man's arm and led him to 
 the table, saying gently: 
 
 "Tudor, do not look on the face. It is utterly un- 
 recognizable, my friend." 
 
 And then, as the officer in attendance took off the 
 white covering, revealing the form in its black robes, 
 the doctor defth r covered the face with a linen hand- 
 kerchief that he held in his hand. 
 
 Hereward gave one agonized glance, and turned his 
 head with a groan that seemed to rend his bosom. 
 
 Dr. Kerr led him away from the spot, and the 
 coroner put the question: 
 
 "Do you recognize the body as that of any one you 
 have known?" 
 
 "Yes," responded Hereward, in a low and broken 
 voice. "It is that of Lilith, my wife." 
 
 He was allowed a few moments in which to recover 
 himself, and then the coroner said:
 
 346 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "Mr. Hereward, will you tell the jury when and 
 where you last saw the deceased alive?" 
 
 Tudor hesitated, collected himself and answered: 
 
 "On the afternoon of the twentieth of March last, 
 in our parlor on the opposite side of the entrance hall. 
 She left me to go to her room. I have not seen her 
 since." 
 
 "When did you first know that she was missing?" 
 
 "At our usual tea hour, when it was discovered that 
 she was not in the house." 
 
 "Was search made for her at the time?" 
 
 "Yes, very diligent search, both in the house and 
 about the grounds that night, and throughout the 
 neighborhood in the days that followed." 
 
 "And when was the search abandoned?" 
 
 "It has never been abandoned, although it has been 
 conducted with discretion, to avoid useless publicity 
 as far as was consistent with its object." 
 
 "Did you know of the deceased's intention to cross 
 the creek to visit the sick woman that night?" 
 
 "No. I knew nothing of such an intention on her 
 part." 
 
 "That will do, Mr. Hereward. It has really pained 
 us all, I am sure, to put you through this distressing 
 ordeal. You may retire now." 
 
 "Come out, Hereward. Do not linger here," said 
 Dr. Kerr, taking the arm of the young man, and lead- 
 ing him through the crowd out of the room and into 
 the little parlor on the opposite side of the hall. 
 
 Here also they were soon joined by the rector and a 
 bailiff, who came to call the doctor in to give evidence 
 upon some point that had been raised. 
 
 When the Rev. Mr. Cave was left alone with Here- 
 ward he drew a chair to his side, seated himself, and 
 took the hand of the young man in his own, saying, 
 with tender gravity: 
 
 "Tudor, will you confide in the old friend who has
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 lived among you and ministered to your family for 
 forty years; who married your parents; who was with 
 them each in their dying hour; baptized your wife, 
 and married you will you confide in this old friend 
 and take counsel with him?" 
 
 "It is what I most wish to do," breathed the 
 younger man. 
 
 "Then tell me first, Tudor, dear boy, how it hap- 
 pened that she lay dead four weeks, during the whole 
 of which time you had missed her, yet had given no 
 sign of her absence to us, your neighbors here and 
 your oldest friends?" Dr. Cave inquired, gently yet 
 earnestly. 
 
 Hereward passed his hand once or twice across his 
 troubled brow 7 ; but he did not reply promptly. 
 
 The rector continued: 
 
 "Your answers to the questions put to you before 
 the coroner's inquest were clear and pointed enough. 
 Yet it seems to me that other questions had they oc- 
 curred to the coroner might have been put that must 
 have drawn out answers which would have thrown a 
 new light on this subject." 
 
 "Not on the cause or the manner of the death, which 
 must have been just as circumstances and appearances 
 indicate." 
 
 "You think so?" 
 
 "I have no doubt of it. It was in accordance with 
 Lilitbrs character that after having heard of the sick 
 woman across the creek, and even after having sent 
 some relief to her by Nancy, and having received the 
 report of the housekeeper, she should still have felt 
 so much interested in the case as to have suddenly 
 resolved to visit the patient in person. It was not late 
 and the distance was short, and our child, as brave 
 as she was tender-hearted, started out alone. And 
 the light, careless step, and the icy crossing did the 
 rest!" said Hereward, with a half-suppressed sob.
 
 3*8 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "So persuaded were all the household their mistress 
 had gone thither, that the cabin was the first place 
 visited after the house had been fruitlessly searched. 
 But she had not been there. So she must have fallen 
 into the creek in going, not in returning. I crossed the 
 creek twice, in going and in returning. It was frozen 
 hard and covered by a new fall of snow. There was no 
 sign to indicate that a catastrophe had occurred. No 
 sign of what lay beneath the snow and ice. During the 
 six days following her disappearance I made the most 
 diligent search in this neighborhood that could have 
 been made without giving publicity to the affair. I 
 visited every house with which we were acquainted, 
 knowing that I should discover, without asking, 
 whether she had been seen by any of the inmates. 
 Finally I felt convinced that Lilith had left the neigh- 
 borhood, and I returned to Washington to resume my 
 official duties, and also to put the case of my missing 
 wife into the hands of a confidential detective. I 
 was still privately pursuing the search, when your 
 alarming telegram brought me back here." 
 
 "But Tudor, dear friend, why should you have pur- 
 sued your search privately? Why, when you discov- 
 ered that your wife had disappeared from this neigh- 
 borhood, did you not call in the assistance of friends 
 and neighbors and the local authorities to assist you 
 in the search?" 
 
 Tudor Hereward was silent for a few moments, and 
 then he answered by asking another question. 
 
 "Would that course have done the least good under 
 the circumstances which have this day come to light?" 
 
 "No, it would not; but still the question remains, 
 my dear friend, why you did not call in your friends 
 in your distress." 
 
 "First, then, because I had no reason to suppose 
 that Lilith had met with any fatal accident." 
 
 "Not when she was so mysteriously missing?"
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 349 
 
 "No. And now I am about to relieve ray mind by 
 telling you what I thank Heaven that no question 
 from the coroner or the jury obliged me to reveal at 
 the inquest." 
 
 Hereward paused again to control his rising emo- 
 tion, and then went on : 
 
 "When I discovered at length that my wife had cer- 
 tainly disappeared, I came to the strong conclusion 
 that she had left me." 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Cave gazed at his parishioner as if he 
 suspected that the young man's troubles had suddenly 
 driven him mad! 
 
 "You came to the conclusion that your wife had left 
 you! That Lilith had done such a deed as that!" he 
 exclaimed, at length. 
 
 "Yes; and I had the strongest reasons for such a 
 conviction," despondently replied Hereward. 
 
 "That Lilith our Lilith, our tender, delicate, re- 
 fined, devoted child had left her husband!" 
 
 "Yes! yes! yes!" impatiently, despairingly, but per- 
 sistently replied Hereward. 
 
 "For what cause, in the name of Heaven and 
 earth?" demanded the rector. 
 
 "For a most just cause! I drove her from me!" 
 
 "TUDOR! Have you the least idea what you are say- 
 ing?" 
 
 "Yes I drove my wife away!" 
 
 "Heaven and earth, you are MAD!" 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 THE THUNDERBOLT 
 
 THE rector sat listening to Hereward's self-accusa- 
 tions in speechless amazement. At last he spoke, 
 slowly and emphatically:
 
 350 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 "In the course of my ministry of half a century I 
 have seen many strange phases of human nature, but 
 none so strange as this. It must indeed have been 
 a most monstrous and unpardonable outrage that 
 drove a timid, refined, and most religious child like 
 Lilith to leave the sanctuary of her husband's house 
 and throw herself upon the world!" 
 
 "It was all that! It was a cruel, monstrous, unpar- 
 donable outrage that drove her away!'' groaned Here- 
 ward. 
 
 "And there must have been madness in the man 
 who committed this outrage." 
 
 "There was madness frenzy!" 
 
 "And it must have been a fatal combination of de- 
 ceptive circumstances that hurried a man of your judg- 
 ment and self-control into such desperate passion." 
 
 "Again you are right. A set of circumstances so 
 evil and even criminal in appearance, that they must 
 have overwhelmed the self-poise of a man much wiser, 
 better and stronger than myself. But I had better 
 tell you all, from the beginning; for these domestic 
 troubles really had their commencement in the very 
 first week of our marriage." 
 
 "I have been so amazed by what you have already 
 told me, Tudor, that there is scarcely any possible 
 thing you could say that would surprise me now. 
 Go on." 
 
 Then Hereward began from the time when he first 
 left Lilith, on the day after Major Hereward's funeral, 
 being the fifth day after their marriage at the death- 
 bed of his father, and he told of his parting with his 
 young wife that night, at the Frosthill depot; of his 
 railway journey to Washington in the great snow- 
 storm that followed; of his week's anxiety about 
 Lilith; of the strange letter that he received from 
 Alick informing him of the sojourn of a young strol- 
 ling player at Cloud Cliffs; of his determination to
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 351 
 
 return and bring Lilith to Washington; of his railway 
 journey home, and of the conversation he heard in 
 the cars, reflecting on the conduct of Lilith and her 
 most unfitting guest. 
 
 "But you never, from idle gossip, could have be- 
 lieved Lilith capable of levity or the least degree of 
 impropriety!" interrupted the rector. 
 
 "No, not then. Certainly not then. But afterwards, 
 as you shall hear, there were circumstances that might 
 have convinced even you." 
 
 "Of what? Of Lilith's impropriety? Never! The 
 child had grown up like a white flower just under my 
 eye. I know her too well." 
 
 "Your faith does Lilith no more than justice; yet 
 when you have heard the evidence you will not wonder 
 that mine was shaken to its foundation." 
 
 "Let me hear it, then," said the rector incredu- 
 lously. 
 
 And Hereward resumed his confession; told how he 
 had taken Lilith to Washington with him; how bright, 
 useful and helpful she had been, and how happy their 
 married life was beginning to be, when the same 
 strolling player appeared in Washington and, like the 
 serpent in Eden, destroyed all their peace. 
 
 "Dear Tudor, was it not your morbid jealousy that 
 destroyed your peace?" inquired the rector. 
 
 And Hereward told how he had brought Lilith down 
 to Cloud Cliffs on Friday, the 16th ultimo; had re- 
 turned to Washington on Saturday, the 17th, to at- 
 tend a caucus; and how on Tuesday morning a mis- 
 sent letter had fallen into his hands, directed to his 
 wife; how, acting upon a mutual understanding that 
 each, in the absence of the other, should open all 
 letters not marked "private," he had opened and read 
 this one. 
 
 Here Hereward drew from his pocket that first fatal 
 letter from Ancillon to Lilith, proposing to take ad-
 
 352 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 vantage of the return of her husband to the city an- 
 appointing a meeting with herself at Cloud Cliffs o 
 Monday evening, the 18th. 
 
 Hereward watched the face of the rector, as he rea*l 
 the letter, saw the old man's brow contract and his 
 lips compress in pain and wrath. 
 
 When Mr. Cave had finished reading, he handed it 
 back to Hereward in stern silence. 
 
 "What do you think now, Mr. Cave?" inquired the 
 young man, as he returned the letter to its envelope 
 and replaced it in his pocket. 
 
 "What do I think? That the unhappy child was the 
 dupe of some deeply-dyed villain! And yet I believe 
 her to have been a most innocent dupe! She has gone 
 before her Heavenly Father and Judge now! She has 
 no power to explain her conduct or defend herself to 
 us!" said the rector, sternly and sorrowfully. 
 
 "Heaven knows," continued the young man, "that I 
 never meant to drive her from her home; nor ever 
 dreamed that she would go! Even in my blind rage I 
 could not have turned the child out of doors on a bitter 
 cold night. No, even then I had some vague idea of 
 leaving her in peace here, until the rising of Congress 
 should afford me leisure to attend to her case, and 
 make a home and provision for her at some safe dis- 
 tance from the house that I believed she had " 
 
 "No! Stop! Do not finish that sentence! The dead 
 child may have been foolish; but she was innocent!'' 
 
 To his surprise, Hereward, instead of contesting this 
 point, suddenly caught the hand of his old friend and 
 pressed it warmly, w r hile he said : 
 
 "God bless you for saying that! It is very strange; 
 but my thoughts of Lilith, my feelings towards her 
 have all been revolutionized since I lost her! I look 
 upon my past mood as simple madness; and despite 
 all the stubborn facts of the letters and the meetings 
 I believe the poor child to have been blameless!"
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 353 
 
 And then silence fell between the two men, and 
 lasted until it was broken by the entrance of Dr. Kerr, 
 who came in to announce that the coroner's inquest 
 was over. 
 
 "And the verdict could have been no other than 
 'Accidental death,' of course," said Mr. Cave, while 
 Tudor Herew r ard lifted his pale face inquiringly. 
 
 "No," solemnly replied the doctor, "the verdict was 
 not 'Accidental death.' " 
 
 "What was it, then? I don't understand," said Mr. 
 Cave. 
 
 "I will read the verdict to you. I would rather read 
 it than tell it," sighed the doctor, as he unfolded a 
 paper that he held in his hands and read aloud 
 slowly lingering upon the preliminary formula as if 
 shrinking from the terrible words that came at last : 
 
 "That Lilith Hereward came to her death on the 
 night of March 20th, by a blow on the head from some 
 blunt, heavy weapon, held in the hand of some person 
 unknown." 
 
 "Look to Tudor!" exclaimed Dr. Kerr, when he had 
 finished reading; for the strong young man had fallen 
 like a felled ox to the floor. 
 
 It was sunset before quiet was restored to Cloud 
 Cliffs. Dr. Kerr and Mr. Cave watched alternately 
 by the bedside of Tudor Hereward through the whole 
 night. 
 
 In the morning Dr. Kerr announced his intention of 
 telegraphing to Baltimore for an eminent specialist on 
 brain and nerve diseases to come down and hold a con- 
 sultation on the case of his patient, which he declared 
 to be very critical. 
 
 Mr. Cave took charge of the arrangements for the 
 funeral, which circumstances rendered necessary 
 should be both speedy and quiet.
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 That afternoon Dr. Sloane arrived from Baltimore 
 and remained overnight. 
 
 The next morning the symptoms of the patient were 
 rather more favorable, and the Baltimore physician, 
 having left careful directions for his treatment, re- 
 turned to his own home. 
 
 In the course of that day the remains of the unfor- 
 tunate girl were taken to the Church of St. Mark's at 
 Frosthill, where they were met by a large number of 
 the friends of the family. 
 
 Mr. Cave performed the funeral services, and during 
 their course paid a touching tribute to the character 
 of the martyred girl. 
 
 And finally, just as the sun went down, the coffin 
 was lowered into the grave beside that of the elder 
 Tudor Hereward in the family burial lot. 
 
 After this the friends dispersed to their homes. 
 
 Dr. Kerr, with a long following of weeping servants, 
 returned to Cloud Cliffs to resume his faithful watch 
 beside the bed of his young friend. 
 
 The story of Lilith Hereward's tragic death was 
 taken up by all the newspapers; but as "mysterious 
 murders" are too woefully common, it was read with 
 but a passing thought or comment, everywhere except 
 in the neighborhood of Frosthill and in Washington. 
 
 In both these places, where Lilith was known and 
 loved so well, it caused a most painful sensation. 
 
 But all this had passed away, and the long session 
 of Congress had come to an end before Tudor Here- 
 ward recovered. 
 
 [The sequel to this story is published in another 
 volume, entitled, "Lilith," and is published in uniform 
 style and price with this volume.] 
 
 THE END
 
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 RICHELIEU. A tale of France in the reign of King Louis XIII. By G. P. 
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 BY BERWEN BANKS. By Allen Raine. 
 
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 IN DEFIANCE OF THE KINS. A romance of the American Revolution. 
 By Chauncey C, Hotchkiss. Cloth, I2mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson 
 Davis. Price, }i.oo. 
 
 The story opens in the month of April, 1775, with the provincial troops 
 hurrying to the defense of Lexington and Concord. Mr. Hotchkiss has etched 
 In burning words a story of Yankee bravery and true love that thrills from 
 beginning to end with the spirit of the Revolution. The heart beats quickly, 
 and we feel ourselves taking a part in the exciting scenes described. You 
 lay the book aside with the feeling that you have seen a gloriously true 
 picture of the Revolution. His whole story is so absorbing that you will 9** 
 up far into the night to finish it. As a love romance it is charming.

 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL UBRAR^FACIUTY 
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