Short Story.

Western Star, Issue 2216, 24 June 1898, Page 4

Short Story.

The Ordeal of Mrs Gregstone.

When Gregstone left Blinville every body was sorry for Mrs. Gregstone, in spite of the fact that most of the people had blamed her -virulently all during the recent divorce trial between her and her husband. Every man and woman in the pretty little town had been an actual or self-appointed witness against the cast-off wife, but now that the newly-released husband had shaken the dust of Elmvllle from his foot, Elmvlile began to notice how lonely poor Mrs. Gregstone really looked. Some of the less forgiving persisted in laying all the persecuted woman's sad looks and crushed manner to the load of conscious gilt which the court and Mr. Gregstone's witnesses had fastened lor ever upon her shoulders. But once in a while there was found a wife or a widow who shook her head doubtfully when slander’s tongue wagged more sharply than usual. As for Mrs. Gregstone herself, she lived on dn the little white house, which she had bought before her marriage. when she had come to teach in the Elmvilie schools. Her mother had been with her then, but the next year ■after the daughter’s marriage to Mr. Gregstone, the sweet-faced little mother fell softly asleep, and now that Mr. Gregstone had gone his widow crept more often than ever out to tlie tiny graveyard on the elm-crowned hill, just above the town. The sharper tongued gossips asserted that all this was done for effect, but a youug mother, who had buried tier first-born baby came back one summer evening, vowing never again to help by word, or tolerance of word, the disparagement of the deserted woman’s name.

“She was sobbing there all alone when 1 left,” whispered the young wife, as she was folded in her husband’s comforting arms, “and all at once it seemed ',to me that I had no cause at all to grieve for baby, for I had you ro come back to, and poor Mrs. Gregstone had /no one tin all this whole, wide world to lea re an atom whether or not she ever •came back. And oh !it was lonesome •out there in the graveyard.” Three years went by, and the sentit'ment against the sad-mouthed, lonely iwom.au had moderated to the degree .of an occasional sympathetic smile. /But many women looked at her as a ‘creature too unattractive and tactless 'to retain the love of a faithful husband. Mrs. Gregstone seemed not to care ivory much for all their contempt, but spent her time among her (lowers in the tiny garden at the side of her house. Then, one June morning. Elmville •was stirred to its foundations by the story that did Father Gregstone had suddenly died, with the last request that Shis body should be brought back to sleep in the little graveyard at Elmwille. And, to add to the wonderful tale, the son had recently taken to him -another wife. The whole town quivered with expectancy at the advent of Mrs. Gregstone No. 2. No one would confess to having been the bearer of the cruel news to the first /wife, but there was an extra shade fof pallor on her sad, sweet face, and she never raised her eyes from the bed »f pansies she was weeding all the In Mrs. Gregstone the first did not go her gate all day, and the most prying eyes could not tell whether or not she sat behind her tightly-drawn front curtains to watch the last Journey of her erstwhile husband’s father.

She couldn’t see the man whose name she still bore, however, nor the woman who now occupied her old place, so perhaps she was not watching at all. But everybody else in Elmville saw Jhem, and noted how old and care,worn their former fellow-citizen looked.

But when they looked upon the new ■wife they some way did not wonder so much at Mr. Gregstone’s air of perpetual unrest. For the strange woman’s face, although beautiful, was a petulant, selfish one.

Trains out of Elmville were rare, so that when the man and wife came back from the graveyard at dusk it was found that they would have to wait till the following morning before they could leave again for their distant home.

■A score of Gregstone’s old friends called upon him early that evening at the little hotel, but he seat word back to them that Mr. Gregstone had one of her terrible headaches, and he could not leave her.

“ Poor fellow,” they sighed, sympathetically, and slipped back home, so that by 10 o’clock the whole town was asleep, there in its shadowy nest on the hillside.

As the last light on the square was extinguished, Mrs. Gregstoue lu the little white cottage drew a great sigh of relief. She had felt the merciless eyes of her inquisitive townspeople burn into her all day long, and the strain had been so cruel that she felt a few more hours of it would have found her last bravery gone. But now it was all over.

Catching up a white shawl, she crept silently out into her garden, where the •blossoms swung their worshipping cups an the soft, summer-night breeze, like fragrant censors swaying in silent adoration before the throne of night. From the long, straight bed by the gate, where the maples threw half the path in a still, black shadow, there came the sweet breath of her lilies, and she knelt among them.

How long she was there she did not know, but all at once she heard her name spoken softly, timidly, pleadingly, by some one just beyond the low gate. At the sound of that voice—that dear, precious voice—that voice, than which there was nothing in all the world for which she hungered more that night,— she lifted her eyes and looked up straight into the beloved face of the man who had voluntarily put 'her away and taken another in her place. The deep lines about his mouth, the hopeless, haunted look in his eyes, the silver of his hair, as he stood uncovered in the moonlight, struck to her heart with an icy terror. And yet—and yet, if she—the other one—had (been the cause of this

“ Ellen,” he repeated gently. “ 1 am coming,” was all she said, as she rose from her knees. Then, just as he touched her outstretched hands, she bethought herself, and locked her poor, cold lingers behind as she cried : “ Why did you come here ? It is not right for either of us.” “ I know it, and I did not mean to when I slipped away from—from her. But when I found myself on the old

street again I could not keep from one more glimpse of the dear little house. I meant to pass on the other side, but your lilies—the same sweet lilies you used to love—drew me across for one stolen, closer view, and—l did not expect to see you. When I did, I lost all courage, and here I am.” Still she stood, slender and pale, with her nails biting into her quivering palms.

“ Ellen,” he asked at last, “ you know and I know that others would condemn us for ever, but others need not know what lam going to ask. Will you kiss me just once again, for the last time and for ever ?”

Her heart stopped, then with a sudden start that sent the blood into her cold, white cheeks, she sprang towards him, and felt again the old pressure of his hands as lie crumbled her lingers between his palms. Then ne bent towards her aud kissed her, once, twice, thrice, till she finally moaned out :

“ Don’t, 1 beg of you, don’t ! Help me to be brave. I have no right to you, for you are—hers.” Ellen, to you goes all my soul now and for evermore.”

Then he released her and she crept back into her still, lonely, dark little house. But her face shone with a ramance which never quite left it afterwards. and she sobbed toftly to uerself. “ 1 know God will never forgive me, for I shall never truly repent of it. lint the knowledge that, he loves me, even though she is 1 1 is wife, will keep me glad for ever, in spile of the awluluess of the siu there is in me.” Seven years later they were remarried, twelve months after the second Mrs. Gregstone had drunk herself into an early grave. After the dark the dawu.—j. E-, in the “ Weekly Sun.” SCridal Superstitions. Few girls are dauntless enough to risk being married on a Friday and also in the month of May, which is considered a very unlucky time, while June, September, October, and December are deemed the luckiest months of tlie year. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday are considered tiie best days to be married on, if assurance of happiness is desired. Monday for wealth, Tuesday for health, Wednesday the best day of all ! Thursday for crosses, Friday for losses, Saturday no luck at all.

All brides-elect rejoice when the marriage day dawns brightly, remembering the old adage : “ Blest is the bride upon whom the sun doth shine.” And all are equally certain that—

To change the name, and not the letter, Is a change for the worse, and not the better.

The postponement of a wedding is regarded with such horror that many will be wedded on a sick bed or in a house of mourning rather than change the date.

It is an over-bold woman, indeed, who will let her vanity so far get the better of her as to don her bridal robes in their entirety before the hour set for the ceremony, as such an act presages death and dire misfortune. White is the colour usually chosen for bridal robes, signifying purity and innocence ; hut others may be chosen wisely, as the following rhyme asserts :

Married in white, You have chosen all right. Married in gray. You will go far away. Married in black, You will wish yourself back. Married in red, You’d better lie dead. Married in green, Ashamed to be seen. Married in blue, You’ll always be true. Married in pearl. You’ll live in a whirl. Married in yellow. Ashamed of the fellow. Married in brown, You’ll live out of town. Married in pink, Your spirits will sink. Then no bride must go to the altar without“ something old and something new, something borrowed and something blue.” Neither must she, after her toilet is complete, look at herself in the mirror. She must see that no bridal guest wears a costume entirely black, as that would bring her sorrow. On changing her gown she must throw away every pin used in the bridal attire. No girl who would be a happy bride must take a hand in the making of her wedding cake or the sewing of her bridal gown. To try on a wedding ring before the ceremony is unpropitious. Should the shaking hand, of the groom drop his symbol of love in tire act of putting it on the bride’s finger, lire ceremony had better be stopped right there. To lose it is a prophetic of evil, and to remove it after it is placed on the finger is unlucky. The throwing of rice and old slippers is descended from antiquity, rice meaning fertility and plenty, while the old shoe is supposed to invoke the favour of the fickle goddess of fortune. No bride or groom must turn back after starting, and the bride must be sure when she leaves home to place in her pocket a silver coin, so that in future years she may not come to want. In the Isle of Man it is customary for the bride and groom to go to the altar with a pinch of salt in their pocket to insure a life of prosperity.

Awkward, Sir Joseph Crowe in his “ Reminiscences” gives several instances of the manner in which religious belief in India may conflict with the practical affairs of life. He had numerous servants there, for a man who had been hired for one sort of work always refused to undertake anything else, and the consequence was that the place was full of people either idle or fast, asleep. When they did work, however, it was often under certain restrictions which a stranger was not likely to guess in the beginning.

At one time the bungalow was overrun with mice, and so a boy was ordered to buy half-a-dozen traps and set them. He obeyed, and next day took his master round triumphantly to show that each of them was occupied by a prisoner.

A few days later it was evident that the mice were still rampant all over the bungalow, and the master called his boy. “ Have you sot the mouse-traps V” asked he.

“ Yes, sahib.” “ How many mice did you catch ?” “ Fifty.” “What did you do with them ?”

“ I let them out again.” “ But,” said the master, “ they were to be caught and killed.” “ Oh.” said the boy, “ I never kill anything !” Then he remembered that the Hindu religion makes that merciful but inconvenient provision.