I 11 THE ROSE-GAR-T
DEN HUSBAND
i By MARGARET WIDDEMER
I III1" III
Copyright, by J. P. Lippincott Co.
. A I
A princess, too. In the story! But
—Where had she gone? "The two of
them enly,” he had said.
*lt must have been scarcely a
month," the story went on—Mr. De
I Guenther was telling it as if he were
stating a case—“nearly a month be
fore the date set for the wedding,
when the lovers went for a long anto
j mobile ride, across a range of moun
tains near a country place where
they were both staying. They were
i alone in the machine.
"Allan, of course, was driving,
t doubtless with a certain degree of
I Impetuosity, as he did most things.
• • » They were on an unfrequented
i part of the road,” said Mrs. De Cluen
! ther, lowering his voice, “when there
j occurred an unforeseen wreckage in
thi' car’s machinery. The car was
thrown over and badly splintered,
ltolh young people were pinned un
j der it.
"So far as he knew at the time,
I Allan was not injured, nor was he in
j any pain; but he was held In abso
lute inability to move by the car
abovo him Miss Frey, on the con
|trar;-, was badly hurl, and in suffer
ing. She died in about three hours,
a little before relief came to them."
Phyllis clutched the arms of her
Chair, thrilled and wide eyed. She
could imagine all (lie horror of the
happening through the old lawyer’s
preeiso and unemotional story. Til ■
boy lover, pinioned, helpless, con
demned to watch his sweetheart dy
ing by inches, and unable to help
her by no much as lifting a hand
could anything be more awful not
only to endure, but to remember?
"And yet," she thought whimsic
ally, "it mightn't bo so bud to have
one real tragedy to remember, if you
’haven’t anything else! All I’ll have
I to remember when I’m old will be
jbad little children and good little
I children, yml books and boarding
| housos, and the recollection that peo
ple said I waR a very worthy young
woman once!” But she threw oft
the thought. It’s just as well not to
think of old age when all the idea
brings up is a vision of a nice, clean
t)ld Ladies' Home.
"But ^ou said he whh au invalid?”
she said aloud.
| "Yes, I regret to say,” answered
Mr. DoGuentber. "You see, it was
f
found that the shock to the nerves,
1 acting on an already over keyed mind
and body, together with some spinal
blow concerning which the doctors
rjLrc still in doubt, had affected Allan's
( powers of locomotion.” (Mr. De
■ Guenthor certainly did like long
I words!) "He has been unable to
i walk since. And, which is sadder
his state of mind and body has be
come steadily worse. He can scarce
ly move at all now, ami Ills mental
attitude can only be described as
painfully morbid — yes, I may say
Very painfully morbid. Some
times he does wot speak at all for
days together, even to his mother,
or his attendant.”
"Oh, poor boy!” said Phyllis.
"How long has he been this way?"
"Seven years this fall,” the answer
came consideringly. “Is it not, love?"
"Yes,” said his wife, "seven years.”
"Oh” said the Llberry Teacher,
with a quick catch of sympathy at
her heart.
Just as long aa she had been work
ing for her living In the big, dusty
library Supposing oh, supposing
she'd had to live all that time in such
suffering as this poor Allan had en
dured and his mother had had to
witness! She felt suddenly as if the
grimy, restless Children's Room,
with its clatter of turbulent little out
land voices, were a safe, sunny para
dise In comparison.
Mr. De Guenther did not speak. He
visibly braced himself and was visi
bly ill at ease.
"1 have told most of the story,
Isabel, love," said he at last. "Would
you not prefer to tell the rest? It. is
ftt your instance that I have under
taken this commission for Mrs. Har
rington, you will remember.”
It struck Phillis that he didn’t
think it was quite a dignified com
mission, at that.
“Very well, my dear,” said liis wife,
and took up the tail In her swift, soft
voice.
“You can fancy, my dear Miss
Braithwaite, how Intensely his moth
er has felt about it.”
“Indeed, yes!" said Phyllis piti
fully.
"Her whole life, since the accident,
has been one long devotion to her
eon. I don't think a half hour ever
passes that she does not see him. But
in spite of this constant care, as my
husband has told you, he grows
steadily worse. And poor Angela has
finally broken under the strain. She
was never strong. She Is dying now
— they give her maybe two months (
moro.
'Her one auxiety. of course, is for I
poor Allan's welfare. You can imag-:
ine how you would feel if you had to ;
leave ah entirely helpless son or
brother to the mercies of hired a(-■
tendants, however faithful. And they j
have no relatives-—they are the last j
of the family.”
The listening girl began to see. She ;
was going to be asked to act as nurse j
perhaps attendant and guardian, 10I
this morbid invalid with the injured ■
mind and body.
"Ittit how would I be any better for ]
him than a regular trained nurse?” j
she wondered. ‘ And they said he had |
an attendant."
She looked guestioningly at the1
pttir.
“Where does my part come in?”;
she asked with a certain sweet dl- i
redness which was sometimes hers. :
“Wouldn't I be a hireling too if—if 1
had anything to do with it?"
“No," said Mrs. Oe Guenther grave
ly. “You would not. You would
have to be his wife.”
IV. ...J,.
The I,iberry Teacher, in lier sober j
best suit, sat down in her entirely
commonplace chair In tlie quiet old
parlor, and looked unbelievingly at
the sedate elderly couple who had
made her this wild proposition. .She
caught her breath. But catching her
breath did not seem to affect any
thing that had been said. Mr. De
Guenther took up the explanation
again, a little depreciatingly, she
thought.
"You see now why I requested you
to investigate our reputability?” he
said. "Such a proposition as this, es
pecially to a young lady who has no
parent or guardian, requires a con
siderable guarantee of good faith and
honesty of motive.”
"Will you please tell mo more
about. It?” she asked quietly. She
did not feel now as if it were any
thing which had especially to do with
her. It seemed more like an Inter
esting story she was unravelling sen
tence by sentence. The long, softly
lighted old room, with its Stuarts and
Sullys, and its gracious, gray haired
host and hostess, seemed only a pic
turesque part of it. * • * Her hostess
caught up the tale again.
“Angela has been nearly distract
ed,” she said. “.And the idea has
come to her that If she could find
some conscientious woman, a lady,
and a person to whom what she could
offer would be a consideration, who
would take charge of poor Allan, that
she could die in peace.”
"But why did you think of asking
me?” the gfrl asked breathlessly.
“And why does she want me married
to him? And how could you or she
be sure that I would not be as much
of a hireling as any nurse she may
have now?”
Mrs. De Guenther answered the
last two questions together.
"Mrs. Harrington’s Idea Is, and I
think rightly, that a conscientious
woman would feel the marriage tie,
however nominal, a bond that would
obligate her to a certain duty toward
her husband. As to why we selected
you, my dear, my husband and I have
had an interest in you for some years,
as you know. We have spoken of
you as a girl whom we should like
for a relative-”
"Why, isn't that strange?" cried
Phyllis, dimpling. “That's Just what
I’ve thought about you!"
Mrs. De Guenther flushed, with a
delicate old shyness.
"Thank you, dear child,” she said.
“I was about to add that we have not
seen you at your work all these
years without knowing you to have
the kind heart and sense of honor
requisite to poor Angela’s plan. We
feel sure you could be trusted to take
the place. Mr. De Guenther has asked
his friend Mr. Johnston, the head of
the library, such things as we needed
to supplement our personal knowl
edge of you. You have everything
that could be asked, even to a certain
cheerfulness of outlook which poor
Angela, naturally, lacks in a meas
ure.”
"But—but what about me?” askeif
Phyllis Braithwaite a little piteously,
in answer to all this.
They seemed so certain she was
what they wanted—was there any
thing iu this wild scheme that would
make her life better than it was as
the tired, ill paid, light hearted keep
er of a roomful of turbulent little
foreigners?
"Unless you are thinking of mar
riage—” Phyllis shook her head—
“you would have at least a much
easier life than you have now. Mrs.
Harrington would settle a liberal in
come on you, contingent, of course, of
your faithful wardership over Allan.
Wo would be your only Judges as to
that. You would have a couple of
months of absolute freedom every
year, control of much of your own
time, ample leisure to enjoy It. You
would give only your chances of
actual marriage for perhaps five
years, for poor Allan cannot live
longer than that at his present state
of retrogression, and some part of
every day to seeing that Allan was
not neglected. If you bestow on him
half of the interest and effort I have
known of your giving any one of a
dozen little immigrant boys, his
mother has nothing to fear for him."
Ahv IJe Guenther stopped with a
grave little bow, and he and his wife
waited for the reply.
The Libcrry Teacher sat silent,
her eyes on her slim hands, that were
roughened and reddened by constant
hurried washings to get off the dirt
of the library books. It was true—a
good deal of it. anyhow. And one
thing they bad not said was true
also: her sunniness and accuracy and
strength, her stock in trade, were
wearing thin under the pressure of
too long hours and too hard work and
too few personal interests. Her youth
was worn down. And—marriage?
What chance of love and marriage
had she, a working girl alone, too
poor to see anything of the class of
men she would be willing to marry?
She had not for years spent six hours
with a man of her own kind and
age. She had not oven been specially
in love, that she could remember
since she was grown up. She did no'
feel much, now. as if she ever would
be. All that she had to give up in
taking this offer was her freedom,
such as it was—and those fluttering '
perhapses that whisper sueh pleas
ant promises wheu you are young.
But, then, she wouldn’t be young so
very much longer. Should she -she
put it to herself crudely -should she
wait long, hard, closed in years in
tin faith that she would learn to be
absolutely contented, or that some
man she could love would come !j
the ctfeap boarding house, or the little
church she attended occasionally
wnen she was not too tired, fall in
love with her work dimmed looks at
sight, and— marry her? It had not
happened all these years while her
girlhood had been more attractive
and her personality more untired
There wins scarcely a chance in j00
fcr her of a kind lover husband and
such dear picture books chilldren as
she had seen Eva Atkinson convoy
ing. Well—her mind suddenly came
up against the remembrance, as
against a sober fact, that in her pas
sionate wishings of yesterday she had
not wished for a lover husband, nor
for children. She had asked for a
husband who would give her money,
and leisure to be rested and pretty
and a rose garden! And hue, ap
psiently, was her wish unconnily
fulfilled.
"Well, what are you going to do
about it?” inquired the destinies with
their traditional indifference. "We
can’t wait all night!"
She lifted her head and cast an al
most frightened look at the De Guen
thers, waiting courteously for her
decision. In reply to the look, Mr.
De Guenther began giving hor de
tails about the money, and the leas
uro time, and the business terms of
the contract generally. She listened
attentively. All that—for a little
guardianship, a little kindness and
the giving up of a little piece of life
nobody wanted and a few little hopes
and dreams!
I’liyllis laughed, as she always did
when there were big black prob
lems to be solved.
“After all, It’s fairly usual,” she
said. “I heard last week of a woman
who left money along with her pet
dog, very much the same way.”
“Did you? Did you, dear?” asked
Mrs. De Guenther, beaming. “Then
you think you will do It?”
The Liberry Teacher rose, and
squared her straight young shoulders
under the worn net waist.
“If Mrs. Harrington thinks I’ll do
for the situation!” she said gallantly
—and laughed again.
“It feels partly like going into a
nunnery and partly like going into a
fairy story," she laid to herself that
night as she wound her alarm. “But
—I wonder if anybody’s remembered
to ask the consent of the groom!"
V.
He looked like a young Crusader
on a tomb. That was Phyllis’ first
impression of Allan Harrington. He
talked and acted, if a moveless tnan
can be said to act, liko a bored,
spoiled small boy. That was her sec
6niT
Mrs. Harrington, fragile, flushed,
breathlessly intense in her wheel
chair, had yet a certain resemblance
in voice and gesture to Mrs. De Guen
ther a resemblance which puzzled
Phyllis till she placed it as the mark
of that far off ladies’ school they had
attended together. There was also
a graceful, mincing white wolf
hound, which, contrary to the ac
cepted notion of invalid's faithful
hounds, didn’t seem to care for his
master’s darkened sick room at all,
but followed the one sunny spot ta
Mrs. Harrington's room with a wist
ful persistence. It was such a small
spot for aoch a long wolfhound—that
wa3 the principal thing which mu
pressed itself op Phyllis' frightened
uiiud throughout her Visit.
Mrs. De Guenther convoyed her to
the Harrington house for inspection a
couple of days after she had accepted
some one's proposal to marry Allan
Harrington. (Whether it counted 13
her future mother-in-law's proposal,
or her futre trustee's, she was never
sure. The only sure thing was that
it did not come from the groom.) She
had borrowed a half day from the
future on purpose, though she did not
want to go at. all. But 'the reality j
was not bad; only a fluttering, emo
tional little woman who clung to her j
hands and talked to her and a§ked '
useless questions with a nervous in- j
si3tence which would have been \
nerve wearing for a steady thing, but
was only pitiful to a stranger.
You see strange people all the time
in library work, and learn to place
them, at length, with almost as mu'di
accuracy as you do your books. The
feet specimen of the Loving Nag
long for this world did not prevent
Phyllis from classing her, in her
mental card catalogue, as a very per
fect speciment of the Loving Naf
ger. She was lying back, wrapped
in something gray and soft, when her
visitors came, looking as if the lift
ing of her hand would be an effort
She was evidently pitifully weak .’tut
she had, too, an ineradicable vicalit '
she could summon at need. rhe
sprang almost upright to greet her
visitors, a hand out to each, an eager
food of words cn her lips.
“And you are Miss Braithwaite.
that is going to look after niv boy?”
she ended. “Oh, it is so good of >ou
f am so glad—I can go in peace
now Are you sure—sure you w:ll
know the minute his attendants are
t'ue b-ast bit negligent? I watch and
watch them all the time. I tell Allan
to ring for me if anything ever is the
least bit wrong—1 am always begging
him to remember. I go in every night
and prAy with him—do you think
you could do that? But I alwavs cry
so before I'm’ through—I cry and
cry—my poor, helpless boy—ho was
so strong and bright! And you are
sure you are conscientious-”
At this point Phyllis stopped the
flow of Mrs. Harrington's conversa
tion firmly, if sweetly.
“Yes, indeed." she said cheerfully
“But you know, if I'm not, Mr. He
Ouenther can stop all my allowance.
It wouldn't be to my own interest not
to fulfil my duties faithfully.”
“Yes, that is true,” said Mrs. Har
rington. “That was a good thought of
mine. My husband Always said I
was an unusual woman where busi
ness was concerned.”
So they went on the principle that
she had no honor beyond working for
what she would get out of it! Al
though she had made the suggestion
herself, Phyllis' cheeks burned, and
she was about to answer sharply.
Then somehow the poor, anxious, lov
ing mother’s absolute pre-occupatiou
with her son struck her as right after
all.
“If it were my son,” thought Phyl
lis, “I wouldn’t worry about any
strange hired girl’s feelings either,
maybe. I’d just think about him.
• * * I promise I’ll look after Mr.
Harrington’s welfare as if her were
my own brother!” she ended aloud
impulsively. “Indeed, you may trust
me.”
(To be continued next week.)
The Unbeliever.
If I am blind and cannot see
The gaunt, stark limbed, accursed tree
Whereon, men say, You died tor me—
Miserera, Domine.
If I am deaf and cannot hear
Your skyey promise falling clear,
Nor, In my need, Your whisper near—
Miserere, Domine.
If I am lame and cannot tread
The starlit path the Magi led.
To bow before Your manger bed—
Miserere, Domino.
If in my unconsenting mind
Nor gem nor pebble I can find
To fit Your temple, man designed—
Miserere. Domine.
I? in my pierced and drowning heart.
Transfixed by the Arch Doubter’s dart.
I cannot feel You salve the smart—
Miserere Domine.
And If at last unshriven I wait
At the bright barrier of Your gate,
And see You shrined in mystic state—
- Miserere, Domine.
—Allce^Brown^ in Atlantic Monthly.
Death Keeps Sealed Bonds.
_ &
From the Indianapolis News.
It is a curious fact that physicists
who have all their lives been in the
highest degTee skeptical, and who have
doubted or denied religion, should, when
they begin to suspect the existence of
the spiritual, react violently, and go to
greal lengths. Much, to take one case,
of what Sir Oliver Hodge said in his ad
dress in this city, was simply old fash
ioned Christianity, which has always
taught the survival of personality, and
a conscious “life everlasting.” Having
got thus far, the old materialism re
asserts itself and proof — “scientific
proof—of such survival is demanded.
The rest follows. It is perfectly con
ceivable from a religious point of view
that there might be communication be
tween the so-called dead and the living,
but It Is not scientifically conceivable,
nor Is it conceivable that science alone
should ever prove the existence of life
beyond the grave. We know more
about the mind, more about human per
sonality than ever before in the world’s
history, but there has not been the
slightest increase in our knowledge of
the spirits or the spiritual world. Im
mortality is as little susceptible of proof
—apart from revelation—as it was 1.000,
000 years age.
Ferocious Artists.
“What are those Paris A parties we
hear so much about?"
“Denizens of the underworld, mi
dear.”
“Are they as desperate as we have
been led to believe?”
“I hardly think they nre ns wildly
wicked as they are made lo appear in j
ithe movies. If they were they’d drink
blood instead of brandy."—Birmingham
Age-Herald.
State of Ohio, City of Toledo, Lucas
County—as.
Frank J. Cheney makes oath that he is
senior partner of the firm of F. J. Cheney
& Co., doing business In the City of To
ledo, County and State aforesaid, and that
said firm will pay the sum of ONE HUN
DRED DOLLARS for any case of Catarrh
that cannot be cured by the use of
HALL’S CATARRH MEDICINE.
FRANK J. CHENEY.
Sworn to before me and subscribed In
£y presence, this 6th day of December,
D 1886
(Seal) A. W. Gleason, Notary Public.
Hall's catarrh medicine is tak
en Internally and acta through the Blood
on the Mucous Surfaces of the System.
F. J. Cheney * Co., Toledo, Ohio.
F. J. Cheney & Co., Toledo, Ohio.
For Government Regulation.
"I presume you're mighty glad the
war Is over.”
“Well, I don’t Jes’ know about dat,"
answered Mandy. “’Cose I’se glad to
have my Sam back home an' all dat,
but I Jes’ know I nln't never gwine t’
get money from him so regular as I
did while he wuz In de army an’ de
government wuz handlin’ his financial
affaire."
Cuticura Comforts Baby’s 8kln
When red, rough and Itching with hot
baths of Cuticura Soap and touches of
Cuticura Ointment. Also make use
nqw and then of that exquisitely scent
ed dusting powder, Cuticura Talcum,
one of the Indispensable Cuticura
Toilet Trio.—Adv._
Wrong Question.
"Wbat’ll you be If there’s another
war?” “What’ll I be? Better ask me
where Til be.”—Home Sector.
Mistaken Locality.
‘ Say, Is a shipment of liquor to go
on this vessel?” “No; this vessel is
gf ing to a dry dock.”
When Blood Is Bad
Granite Falla, Minn.—“During one ex
pectant period I had varicose veins, which
were ex tremely
painful. A couple
of bottles of Dr.
Pierce’s F a v orite
Prescription com
pletely cured me of
this condition, and
my system was
toned up and I had
... comparative 1 y no
SS suffering. An old
*’ lady recommended
Dr. Pierce’s reme
dies to me a couple
of years before when one of my children
had a solid crust of sores on his head.
She told me that it was because my blood
was in poor condition, so I took Dr.
Pierce’s Golden Medical Discovery to
purify my blood, and at the same time
gave the baby a few drops several times
a day. The effect was wonderful and in
a very short time he was a healthy look
ing baby and had a fine head of hair.”
—Mrs. John M. Thompson.
FROM GIRLHOOD UP
Centerville, Iowa.—“I have suffered ter
ribly at times since girlhood; I was all
run-down and weak. Wars advised to try
Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription, and
when I took the first dose I began to im
prove. I took only three bottles of it and
was cured. Have had five children and
have been in good health since. 1 have
frequently recommended the ‘Prescrip
tion’ to others. My sister has also had
good results from it.”—Mrs. Frank Burns,
727 E. Grant St.
WOMEN EVERYWHERE
St. Paul, Minn.—“For several years 1
suffered with woman’s trouble. I read an
advertisement in the newspapers about
Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription and
decided to try a bottle. In all I took about
six bottles and it helped me right from
the start; it actually cured me of the in
flammation and pain in a very short time,
and I think it a very wonderful medicine
for women.”—Mrs. Harry Frederickson,
268 Fuller St.
MONEY BACK
without question if Hunt’s Salve
fails in the treatment of Eczema,
Tetter, Ringworm, Itch, etc. Don’t
become discouraged because other
treatments failed. Hunt’s Salve
has relieved hundreds of such cases.
You can’t lose on our Money
Back Guarantee. Try it at our risk
TODAY. Price 76c, at drug stores.
A. B. Richards Co., Sherman, Texas
tartan