Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About The Nebraska advertiser. (Nemaha City, Neb.) 18??-1909 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 8, 1905)
I Tbe Boetor's "Wife BY MISS M. CHAPTER VI. George Gilbert stnrted for Convent fold on n bright March morning, wlum llio pale primroses glimmered ntnour the nndorwood, mid tlie odor of early violets mingled faintly with tlio nlr. Mr. Gilbert drow rein on the green, which was quiet enough to-day. Should he ko to the chemist's In the market place and Kot his drills, and thence to Mr. Uaymond's house, which was at the other end of the town; or rather on the outskirts of the. country and beyond the town; or should he go 11 rst to Mr. I'..:y inond's by quiet back latiPH which were free of the bustle and riot of the mar ket people V To go to the chemist first would be the wiser courHe, perhaps; but then It wouldn't be very agreeable to liavo drugs In bin pocket, and to Minell of rhubarb and camomile flowers wliou he made his aiipearance before MIsh Hlea ford. If Mr. Uaymond had resembled other people he would have been considerably surprised by a young gentleman In the medical profession venturing to make a morning call upon his nursery govern ohh; but ns Mr. Charles Uaymond was tho very opposlto of everybody else In the world, liu received fJeorge aH cor dially as It was his habit to receive every living creature who bad need of his friendllnoss.and ho sent Brown Molly away to his Htabie and set her master at his ease, before George had quite left off blushing in his first paroxysms of shy ness. "Corno Into my room," cried Mr. Uay mond, in a voice that had more vibra tion In It than any other voice that evdr rang out upon the air; "come into my room. You've had a letter from SIg!s mund and he's told you all about Miss Sleaford. Very nice girl, but wants to be educated before she can teach; keeps the little ones amused, however, and takes them out In the meadows; a very nice, conscientious little thing; cautious ness very large; can't get anything out of her post life; turns pale and begins to cry when I ask her questions; has seen a good deal of trouble, I'm afraid. Never mind; we'll try and make her hap- iy. Charles Uaymond took Grorgo into the drawing room, and from the bay window the young man saw Isabel Slea ford once more, as he had seen her first, In a garden. Hut the scene had a dif ferent aspect from that other scene, which still lingered in his mind, like a which still lingered in his mind, like a pleturu seen brielly In a crowded gal lery. Instead of the pear trees on the low, disorderly grass plot, tho straggling branches green against the yellow sun shlno of July, George saw a close crop ped lawn and trim llower beds, stiff groups of laurel and bare, bleak fields unsheltered from the chill March winds, Against the cold, blue sky he saw Isa bel's slight figure, not lolling In n gar den chair reading a novel, but walking primly with two pale-faced children diesscd In black. A chill sense of pain crept through tho surgeon's breast as he looked at the girlish figure, the pale, joyless face, the sad, dreaming eyes. lie felt 'that somo Inexplicable change had come to Isabel Sleaford since that July day on which she had talked of her pet authors and glowed and trembled with childish love for the dear books out of whose pages she took the joys and sor rows of her life. Tho three pale faces, the three black dresses, bad a desolate look In the cold Bunllgbt. Mr. Uaymond tapped at the glass and beckoned to the nursery gov erness. "Melancholy looking objects, nro they not?" ho said to George as tin three girls came toward tho window. "I've told my housekeeper to give them plenty of roast meat, not too much done. Meat is tho best antidote for melancholy." Ho opened tho window and admitted Isabel and her two pupllps. "Here's a friend como to see you, Miss Sleaford," ho said. "A friend of Slglsmund." Georgo held out his hand, but he saw something like terror In the girl's face as Bhe recognized him, and he fell straight way into a gulf of confusion and em brarrassment. "Slglsmund asked me to call," he stam mered. "Slglsmund told me to write and tell him bow you were." Miss Sleaford'a eyes filled with tears. Tho tears camo unbidden to her eyes uow with the smallest provocation. "You oro all very good to me," she aid, "There, you children, go1 into tho gar den and walk about," cried Mr. Uay- fiioud. "You go with them, Gilbert, anud then come in and tell us all about your Graybridge patients." It was dusk when Georgo Gilbert went to tho chemist and recovered his parcel of drugs. lie would not stop to dlno at tho White Lion, but paid for Brown Molly's accommodation and sprung Into tho saddle, lie rode homo ward through tho solemn avenue, the dusky cathedral aisle, tho intiulto tern pic, fashioned by the great architect, Nature. IIo rode through tho long, ghostly nvenue until tho twinkling lights of Waverly glimmered on htm faintly be tween the bare branches of tho trees. Yes. ho loved her; tho wondrous flow cr that never yet "thrived by tho calen dar" had burst into full bloom. IIo loved this young womau, and believed in her, and wbb ready to bring her to his simple homo whenover she pleased to como tlilUier; and had already pictured E. BRADDOS t her Hitting opposite to him In the llttlo parlor, making weak tea for him in a metal teapot, sewing commonplace but tons upon his commonplace shirts, de bating as to whether thero should bo roast beef or boiled mutton for the 2 o'clock dinner, sitting up alone In that most uninteresting little parlor when the surgeon's patients were tiresome and In sisted upon being ill In the night, waiting to preside over little supperfl of cold meal and pickles, bread and cheese, and celery. Yes; George pictured Miss Slea ford the heroine of such a domestic story as this, and had no power to divine that there was any Ineonguity in the fancy, no fineness of ear to discover the disso nant Intervals between the heroine and the story. Alas! poor Izzlo! and are all your fancies, all the pretty stories wo- von out of your novels, all your long day dreams about Marie Antoinette and Charlotte Corday, Edith Dombey and brnest Malt ravers all your foolish pic tures of a modern Byron or a new Na poleon, exiled to St. Helena, and fol lowed, perhaps liberated by you arc they all come to this? Arc none of the wonderful tilings that happen to women ever to happen to you? Are you never to be a Charlotte Corday. and die for your country V Are you never to wear any ruby velvet, and diamonds in your hair? Are all the pages of the great book of life to bo closed upon you you, who seemed to yourself predestined, by reason of so many dreams and fancies, to such a wonderful existence? Is all the mystic cloudland of your dreams to collapse and shrivel Into this a com monplace, square built cottage at Gray- bridge, with a commonplace surgeon for your husband? Mr. Uaymond waH thinking that per haps the highest fato hold for that pale girl with tho yellow tinge in her eyes was to share the homo of a simple-heart ed country surgeon, and rear his chil dren to be honest men and virtuous women. "Poor little orphan child! will any body ever fathom her fancies or under stand her dreams? Will she marry that good, sheepish, country surgeon, who has fallen in love with her? lie can give her a home and a shelter; and she seems such a poor, friendless little creat ture, just the sort of girl to get into somo kind of mischief if she were left to herself. Perhaps it's about tho lies thing that could happen her. I should like to have fancied a brighter fato for her, a life with more color In It." And all this time George was plead ing with her, and arguing, from her blushes and her silence, that his suit was not hopeless. Emboldened by the girl's tacit encouragement, he grew more and more eloquent, and went on to tell her how he had loved her from the first; yes, from that first summer's aft ernoon when he had seen her sitting un der tho pear trees in the old-fashioned garden, with the low yellow light behind her. "Of course I didn't know then that I loved you, Isabel oh, may I call you Isabel? It Is such a pretty name. I have written it over and over and over on the leaves of a blotting book at home, very often without knowing that I was writing it. I only thought at first that I admired you because you are so beautiful, and so different from other beautiful women; and then, when I was always thinking of you, and wondering about you. 1 wouldn't believe that it was because I loved you. It Is only to day, this dear happy day, that has made me understand what I have felt all along; and now I know that I have loved you from the first, Isabel, dear Isabel, from the very first." All this was quite as It should be. Isnbel's heart fluttered like tho wings of a young bird that essays its first flight. "This is what it is to be a heroine," shu thought, as sho looked down at the colored pebbles, the floating river weeds, under tho clear rippling water; and yet knew all tho time, by virtue of feminine second sight, that George Gilbert was gazing at her and adoring her. She didn't like him, but she liked him to be there talking to her. Ill I . t I ! wear lsauei, you win marry me, won't you? Yon can't mean to say no, you would have said it betoro now. You would not be so cruel as to let me hope, even tor a minute, It you meant to dls appoint me." 'I have known you you have known me such a short time," the girl mur mured. George Gilbert seized upon the words "Ah, then you will marry me, dearest Isabel? you will marry me, my own darling my bautiful wife?" He was almost Btartled by tho inten slty of his own feelings as he bent down and kissed tho little ungloved hand ly Ing on the moss-grown stono work of tho bridge. "Oil, Isabel, if you could only know how happy you have made mo! if you could only know " Sho looked at him with a startled ex presslon In her face. Was it all settled then, so suddenly with so little con slderation? Yes, It was all settled; she was beloved with one of those passions that enduro for a lifetime. George had said something to that effect. Tho story had begun, anil sue was a neroino, ' CHAPTER VII. Isabel Sleaford was "engaged." Her llfo was all settled. She was not to bo a groat poetess or an actress. Sho, was not to be anything great. She was ouly to bo a country surgeon s wife, It was very commonplace, perhan"! and yet th's lonely girl this untaught and unfriended creature felt somo llttlo pride In her new position. After all, she Iiad read many novels In which the story was very little moro than this three volumes of simple love making, and a quiet wedding at the end of the chapter, She was not to bo an Edith Domhcy or a Jane Eyre. Oh, to havo been Jane Eyre, and to roam away on tho cold moorland and starve wouldn't that havu been delicious! No, there was to be a very moderate portion of romance in her life; but still some romance. George Gilbert would be very devoted, and would worship her always, of course. Hut for the pure and perfect love that makes marriage thrlco holy the love which counts so sncrllica too great, no suffering too bitter tho love which knows no change but death, and seems instinct with such divinity tiiat love can be but ItB apotheosis such love as this had no place In Isabel Slea ford's heart. Her books had given her some vague Idea of this grand pas sion, and she began to think that tho poets and novelists were all In the wrong, and that there were no heroes or heroines upon this commonplace earth. She thought this, and she was content to sacrifice the foolish dreams of her girlhood, which were doubtless as im possible as they were beautiful. She was content to think that her lot In life was fixed, and thnt she was to be the wife of a good man and the mistress of an old- fashioned house in one of the dullest of towns. The time had slipped so quietly way since tho spring twilight on tho bridge, her engagement had been taken so much as a matter of course by every one about her, that no thought 'of with- rawal therefrom had ever entered her mind. And then again, why should she withdraw from tho engagement? Georgo loved her, and there was no one else who loved her. There was no wander- ng Jamie to come home In the still gloaming and scare her with the sight of his sad, reproachful face. If she was not George Gilbert's wife she would be noth ing a nursery governess forever nnd ever, teaching stupid orphans and earning a hundred dollars a year. When sho thought of her desolate position and of another subject which was most painful to her sho clung to George Gilbert and was grateful to him, and fancied that he loved him. Tho wedding day came at last ono bleak January morning, when Convent ford wore its barest and ugliest aspect, and Mr. Uaymond gave his nursery gov erness nway. lie had given her tho tress sho wore, nnd the orphans bad clubbed their pocket money to buy their preceptress n bonnet as a surprise, which was a failure, after the manner of art fully planned surprises. Isabel Sleaford pronounced the words that made her George Gilbert's wife, and if she spoke them somewhat lightly it was because there had been no ono to teach her their solemn import. Thero was no taint of falsehood In her heart, no thought of revolt or disobedience in her mind, ami when she came out of tho vestry leaning on her young husband's arm there was a smile of quiet content ment on her face. The life tiiat lay before Isabel was new, and being little more than a child as yet, she thought that novelty must mean hnppiness. She was to have a house of her own and servants, and an orchard, two horses and a gig. Sho was to be called Mrs. Gilbert; was not her name so engraved upon tlio cards George had ordered for her In a morocco card case that smelled like new boots nnd was difficult to open, as well as those wedding cards which the surgeon had distributed among his friends? There was nothing beautiful in the Gilbert house certainly. There was a narrow mantel-piece, with a few blocks of spar and other mineral productions; and above them there hung an old-fash ioned engraving of some scriptural sub ject, in a wooden frame painted black Thero was a lumbering old wardrobe or press, as It was called of painted wood, with a good deal of the paint clip ped off; there was a painted dressing table, a square loklng glass, with brass ornamentation about tho stand aud frame a glass In which George Gilbert's grandfather had looked at himself seven ty years before. Isabel stared at tho blank white walls, tho gaunt shadows of the awkward furniture, with a horrible fascination. It was all so ugly, she thought; and her mind revolted against her husband, as she remembered that he could have changed nil this, and yet had left it In Its bald hideousness. And all this time George was busy withw his surgery, grinding his pestle In so cheerful a spirit that It seemed to fall Into a kind of tune, and thinking how happy he was now that Isabel Slea ford was hLs wife. (To be continued.) A Llttlo Klixod. "I notice thnt Henry Wnttorson nil mlts that ho wrote ft novel In his younger days." "Well, well. Say, he ought to pub llsh it anonymously. An anonymous novel from a writer as well known as Wnttorson ought to bo a mighty good seller." Cleveland Plain Dealer. Free Advloe. "Doctor, I want ft llttlo advice," said tlio notorious dead beat." "What's the matter with you?' asked tlio physician, curtly, for ho scouted no fee. "I liavo Insomnia dreadfully. What shall I do?" "Sloop It off." Cleveland Leader. Lurgost. Flaj; in tho World. ' The largest Hug; In the world wns made In Sau Francisco for Hawaii. It Is SO feet long and consumed 700 yards of bunting, and floats' from a polo 150 foot long, Some people's Idea of economy Is saving money for others to spend. SOLDIERS AT HOME. rHEY TELL SOME INTERESTING ANECDOTE8 OF THE WAR. Uoir the Boya of Hoth Armiea Whllcd Away Life In Camp-Foraging Ex pcrlcnces, Tiresome Murchea Thrll ting Sceaea on the Battlefield. It is rare that n prize fighter is n jood 6oldlcr," said Major S. G. Brook, who wont through tho war In tho Army of tho Potomac. "When I was VPtaln of Company H, Slxty-suvonth Ohio, wo had a strapping big fellow Darned Frank Blalno with us. Blaine was ah expert boxer, and ho had all uIb comrades terrorized because of his agility with his lists. "Tho hoys became afraid to box with him, and Blalno dropped Into the dahlt of knocking them around out of pure devilment. I reprimanded him frequentlp, of course, and ho would aughlngly retort that ho was Just try- ng to train tho soldiers' muscles. "At the battle of Winchester, in 1802, our company, like others, was rushing Into action. While climbing over a fence I noticed a man lying down wjth his face to tho earth. IIo did not seem to be wounded, and I found that it was Frank Blalno, tlio prize lighter. I said: 'Are you hurt, Frank?' " 'N-n-n-n-o, sir,' he chattered. " Then why don't you go on with tlio boys?' "IIo stood up, nnd looked at mo with trembling Hps. Ills face was as whlto as chalk. " 'Captain,' ho said, 'I'm scared to death.' "I saw thnt his fright had mastered dm, in spite of his strong will. He dreaded tho charge of cownrdlco al- most as much as death, but he Just gave way In ono supreme moment of terror. Thero were llttlo men of the company, not half the size of Frank, who were lighting gallantly in front. There were men there whom I had seen Frank knock half way across tho camp, and yet they were doing their duty in a way that ought to havo shamed the big bruiser. "I finally got him into the line, and he faced the music fairly well. It was a terrifically hot tight, nnd happened to ho the only one of the civil war whore Stonewall Jackson was defeat ed. After the battle Frank came to me and pleaded with tears In his eyes not to tell the boys, and I promised on condition that he would quit knock ing them around. "About the most distressing thing In war time Is the odium heaped upon a man whose flagrant act of cowardice has become so notorious that the dis cipline of the army demands that he bo made public example. Such things happened at Suffolk, Va., In 180,5. A soldier deserted a thin skirmish lino and lied ignoininlously to the rear. "The desertion was witnessed by so many and the culprit was so heedless regarding the publicity of his shame ful behavior that it was absolutely necessary to sliow the soldiers what cowardice in Uio face of the enemy meant. So tho army was lined up on both sides of tho "street, the frightened soldier stripped of his uniform, and boards bearing tlio word 'coward' were hung to his breast and back. On either side was a soldier carrying a musket. In tlio rear walked a drum mer plnylng tho 'Bogue's March.' As the coward passed through the lines the soldiers Jeered. IIo did not dare raise his eyes. Had ho possessed a particle of manhood he would have preferred death ten times over to such humiliation, but ho seemed to be one of those curious freaks wo run across now and then In whom every sense of pride is absolutely extjnet. He passed on down the line, out Into the woods, a man without a home and without a country." St. Louis Republic. A imtcn-Oir Wnr Romance. "l'es," said tho cnptaln, "there were a good many romances bitten oft' short during tho war. There was the case of rhlletus Wilson of the 47th Illinois. Ho was acting as orderly for General Thomas in the Atlanta campaign, and ono day riding ahead of the column found himself insldo the rebel picket lines in front of Rome, Gn. Ills unl form was discolored by dust and mud, and knowing that General Cheatham was in coinmnnd at Borne, ho made a dash for his headquarters. "He had gone to school with Miss Mary Cheatham before the war, and they had been very good friends. Tlio thought came to him that she was with her father and that an explanation made to her Avould make it clear that ho was Inside tho rebel lines by acci dent, and not in tho character of n spy. So ho rodo through to headquar tors with a message for Genera Choathnm. As ho rodo up to the house ho heard Miss Mary singing 'Bonny Blue Flag,' and ho went in without ceremony. "He felt, as he entered tho room that Miss Cheatham recognized him and began with, Mary, don't you know mo?' When sho stopped him with, 'I do know you, hut you must not cal mo Mary, and you must explain at once why you aro here.' lie said that was exactly what he wanted to do, and thnt all ho asked of her was to make her father understand that he was telling the truth. Then he told tlio story and Miss Cheatham said sht understood the situation. "She doubted, however, whether he: father would accept her views. While they were discussing the compllca. Hons likely to follow Wilson's dlscovi cry, a company of rebel cavalry rodt up and reported that a Union cavalry man had dashed through their picket Ine and had come straight into town. Wilson's horse had attracted their at tention, and, begging Miss Cheatham's pardon, they asked her If she had seoo a stranger lurking about headquar ters. "Miss Cheatham could answer trulj that she had seen no stranger, and tht cavalry olllcer retired. Thereupon the young lady, greatly excited, proceeded to hide Wilson in a remote closet oi storeroom, and he remained in hiding . until Colonel Dan McCook's brigade occupied Borne. Meantime, tin Choathanis had gone further south, and Wilson, recognizing Colonel Fahnc stock riding at the head of tho Union column, reported to him and took up his duties again at Thomas' headquar ters." Chicago Inter Ocean. A Great Organization. The death of General Blackmar, latv commander In chief of the Grand rVrmy, calls attention to tlio importance of the work which the organization does and of the place which It occu pies. Tho idea of such an organiza tion llrst occurred to Dr. B. F. Ste phenson while on tho Held of battlo, and ho and his friend, Chaplain But- ledge, talked over its possibilities while they were In tent or on the march. After peace had been declared, the two drow up a constitution sulb able for their dreamed-of society. From this humble beginning grow the Grand Army of the Bepubllc. Dr. Stephenson did not live to see the realization of his hopes. At tun time of his death his chprlshcd scheme seemed feeble and likely to perish. To day its scope embraces far more than his wildest fancy had painted it. It Is the one organization for vet erans which opens Its doors to soldiers from every Union army and sailors from every battleship, receiving all on cquil terms. Its motto is "Frater nity, Charity, Loyalty." The G. A. B. counts nearly two hun dred and fifty thousand members on Its roll, and whoever has his name inscribed there Is welcomed as a com rade. In many of the States almosl every town has Its post, aud every post its hall. As no post Is named after a living hero, these very divisions themselves serve as memorials of the bravo dead. A G. A. B. man Is sure to 11 ml friends and help wherever he goes throughout tlio country. But this great society does more than provide social advantages and as sistance to Its individual or collect ive mi. iibers. Its work affects the general public. It collects and pre serves valuable relics for the nation, puts up monuments to dead soldlera and sailors, beautifies national ceme teries, helps to establish and maintain soldiers' homes, and opens parks and reservations for the enjoyment of the people. Of the last-named benefits, the Spottsylvanla scheme Is tlio largest This great park covers a tract which was the scene of more fighting than any other region of given area, and is, by tlio efforts of tho G. A. R., a national reservation to be held In per petuity. Youth's Companion. Getting Luxuries In Cum p. It was in tho army . The boys had a meal of beef that had been corned by a bath In a salt-horse barrel. II was quite a treat. They all thought so until ono of the party remarkedi "A little mustard wouldn't go bad." "That reminds me," said anothec "You just wait a few minutes." A quarter of an hour later ho re? turned, and, producing a screw of pa per, ho said: "Oh, yes, hero's that mustard." "Where did you get It?" said the others in chorus. "Up to the surgeon's. Tho sick call, you remembered, sounded as we wen talking about the mustard. It oc curred to me that a llttlo mustard for my lame back would be just the thing." "But you haven't any lame back." "But I have got the mustard." Phil adelphla Press. The Hcnl Thing. Mire. Ikki I wish you wouldn't hi such ii tight-wad! I haven't a tiling t wear. Mr. Ikka Binkln' Borealls! Why, woman, you have tho finest seal coat in two degrees of latitude. Mrs. Ikki And what of It? Then goes Mrs. Blubberton swaggerinj around in a real soalotto coat wltl plush trimmings. ruck. Sntisfnetorlly Large, "Depew's explanation seems full anj satisfactory." "Yes, I noticed there wore six ilg vires in it" Cleveland Tlain Dealer