Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 344: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ANNIS DENHAM’S SUBTERFUGE. He could not understand; he must have an explanation. “ Annis,” he said, when they were alone together and she had seated her- self in her favorite corner with a bit of fancy work, “I saw your friend, Mrs. Bray, in London. I dined with her one night. She said you had written her.” Annis bent over her work, but he saw her hands tremble, her lips quiver, and when she lifted her eyes they were full of tears. She started to say something, but suddenly rose and started to leave the room. He intercepted her. “ Annis, what is the matter, dear? Something troubles you! ” “ Oh, nothing, John—at least a mere trifle. What did Eleanor say about me?” ~ “She was delighted to know you were enjoying life so well. She gave me your letters to read. I hardly knew what to make of them, they were so unlike the few you wrote me.” “You read my letters, John—my letters to Eleanor? ” She shivered, clasped her hands to- gether nervously, and the next moment she lay in a heap at his feet. He lifted her gently to the couch, rubbed her cold hand& and bathed her head; when she came to herself, she looked up piteously. “ John, let me tell you,” she mur- mured, but he would not let her speak. “ Be quiet, Annis, you are ill. Do not talk any more now. Your nerves are upset and you must rest.” She was very ill for days, and there were moments when they almost feared for her reason. “ There is something on her mind,” the doctor said. “If you can find out > what troubles her, we may be able to - save her a long and serious illness. She is very unhappy. Do not excite her ; get this real or fancied trouble out of her head, if possible.” One day she called him to her. ‘ John,” she said, as the tears rolled down her face, “Oh, John, how you 335 will despise me—but that was all a miserable he—those letters! And you read them, John! I cannot bear to think of that! I did not want Eleanor to know how unhappy I was; that I had become a miserable, lifeless old wo- man; that my life had nothing in it, while hers was so full of what I once dreamed mine would be—and in an un- lucky moment I thought of that; some evil spirit took possession of me. I took a fierce delight in writing those let- ters. I let my imagination run wild thinking how glorious it would be to make a brief dash out into the gay world. “Such a silly, wicked piece of van- ity. I wanted to make Eleanor think things were more as she would natu- rally believe they would be with me, and so I wrote those letters. It was all a lie, John—an awful lie! ” ‘“ And youarenot the woman of those letters at all? You are just my quiet little wife? ” “T am afraid that at heart I am the woman of the letters! At least, there have been times when I have wickedly rebelled at the thought of be- ing my quiet, miserable self; but it 1s over now. I have been sadly punished and I am repentant and subdued. I shall never rebel again!” “ But the Washington trip, Annis? ” She smiiled sadly. “ Perhaps you wonder if that was not a lie, too! No, John, I really went to Washington. I found my cousin liv- ing very quietly just outside the city. She is an invalid and rarely goes out, and I did all my sightseeing alone. “As Il went here and there in the street cars I smiled to myself as I thought of Senator Wyeth’s carriage. I saw his name in the paper one day, and remembered you had spoken of him as being a friend of yours, but you know, John, I would never have in- truded myself on your friends. “As to the dinners, receptions and other fine things, I only read about them in the papers. My evenings were CO