THE MISTAKE OF A LIFETIME.

Globe, Volume VII, Issue 753, 17 November 1876, Page 3

THE MISTAKE OF A LIFETIME.

A lover's quarrel ! A few hasty words—a formal parting between two hearts that neither time nor distance could ever disunite—then, a lifetime of misery ! Edith May stood before me in her bridal dress. The world was to be made to believe she was happy and heart-whole. I knew better. I knew that no woman who had once loved Gilbert Ainslie could ever forget him—least of all such a heart as Edith's. She was pale as a snow-wreath, and bent her head gracefully as a water-lily iu recognition of her numerous friends and ntlniiFGi s ' What a sacrifice !' the latter murmured. ' What a sacrifice !' my heart echoed. Mr Jefferson Jones was an ossified old bachelor. He had but one idea in his head, and that was to make money. There was only one thing ho understood equally well—ami that was, to keep it. He was angular, prim, cold, and precise ; mean, grovelling, contemptible, and cunning. And Edith—our peerless Edith, whose lovers were ' legion'—Edith, with her passionate heart, her beauty, grace, taste, and refinement—Edith, to vow ' love and honor' to such a soulless block ! It made me shudder to think of it, I felt as though his very gaze were profanation ! Well, the Avedding was over ; and she was duly installed mistress of Jefferson House. She had line dresses, fine furniture, a line equipage, and the most stupid incumbrance in the shape of an old husband.

But Mr Jefferson Jones was very proud ot his bride ; firstly, because she added to his importance; secondly, because he plumed not a little in a bearing off so dainty a prize. It gave him a malicious pleasure to meet her old admirers, with tbe gracious Edith upon his arm. Of course she preferred him to them all; else, why did she marry him ? Then how deferential she was in her manner since her marriage; how very polite, and how careful to perform her duty to the letter! Mr Jones decided, with his usual acumen, that there was no room for a doubt on that point. He noticed, indeed, that her girlish gaiety was gone; but that was a decided improvement, according to his view. She was Mrs Jones now, and meant to keep all whiskered popinjays at a respectable distance. He liked it.

And so, through those interminable evenings, Edith sat, playing long games of chess with him, or listening to his gains or losses in the way of trade; or reading political articles of which the words conveyed no ideas to her absent mind.

She walked through the busy streets, leaning on hia arm, with an unseen form ever at her side ; and slept next his heart, when hers was far away ! But when she was alone -no human eye to read her sad secret, her small hands clasped in agony, and her fair head bent to the very dust—was he not avenged ? * * # * »

It was a driving storm j Mr Jones resolved to dine at a tavern instead of returning home. He had just seated himself, and given his orders to the obsequious waiter, when his attention was attracted by the conversation of two gtntlemen near him.

• Have you seen the beautiful Edith since her marriage, Harry?' * No; I feel too much vexed with her. Such a splendid woman to marry such an idiot ? All for a foolish quarrel with Ainslie. You never saw such a wreck as it has made of him. However, she is well punished; for, with all her consumate tact and effort to keep up appearances, it is plain she is the most miserable woman in existence; as Mr Jefferson Jones, whom I have never seen, might perceive, if he wasn't as all the world says, tne very prince of donkeys.' Jones seized his hat, and rushed into the open air. Six times he went, like a comet, round the square ; then, settling his beaver down over his brow, in a very prophetic manner, he turned his footsteps deliberately homewards. It wis but the deceitful calm before the whirlwind. He found Edith pale and selfpossessed, as usual. He wai quite as much so himself—even went so far as to compliment on a coquettish little jacket that fitteoner round figure very charmingly. ' I'm thinking of taking a short journey, Edith, 5 said he, seating himself by her side, and playing with the silken cord and tassels about her waist. 'As it is wholly a business trip, it would hamper me to take you with me; but you'll hear from me. Meanwhile, you know how to amuse yourself—hey, Edith V He looked searchingly at her. There was no conscious blush, no change of expression, no tremor of the frame. He might as well have addressed a marble statue.

Mr Jefferson Jones was posed ! Well, he bade her one of his characteristic adieus; and when the door closed, Edith felt as if a weight had been lifted off her heart. There was but one course for her to pursue. She knew it—she had already marked it out. She would deny herself to all visitors ; she would not go abroad till her husband's return. She was strong in her husband's purpose. There should be no door left open for busy scandal to enter. Of Ainslie sh«i knew nothing, save that a letter reached her from him after her marriage, which she had returned unopened. And so she wandered restlessly through those splendid rooms and tried by this selfinflicted penance to atone for the defection of her heart. Did she take her guitar, old songs they had sang together came unbidden to her lips j that book, too, they had read. Oh, it was all misery, turn where she would. Day after day passed —no letter from Mr Jones. The time had already passed that was fixed upon for his return; and Edith, nervous from close confinement and the weary inward struggle, startled like a frightened bird at every footfall. It came at last—the letter—sealed with black. 'He had been acidentally drowned. His hat was found ; all search for the body had been unavailing.' Edith Avas no hypocrite. She could not mourn for him, save in the outward garb of woe.

Ainslie was just starting for the Continent, by order of a physician, when the news reached him. A brief time he gave to decorum and then they met. It is needless to say what that meeting was. - Days and months of wretchedness were forgotten, like some dreadful dream. She was again his own Edith, sorrowing, repentant, and happy. They were sitting together one evening— Edith's head was upon his shoulder, and her face radiant as a seraph's. They were speaking of their future home. ' Any spot on this wide earth but this, dear Ainslie. Take me away from these painful associations.' ' Say you so, pretty Edith ?' said a wellknown voice. ' I but tried that faithful heart of yours to prove it. Pity to turn such a pretty comedy into a tragedy; but I happen to be manager here, young man !' said Mr Jones, turning fiercely towards the bewildered Ainslie. The revulsion was too dreadful. Edith survived but a week. Ainslie became hopelessly insane. Two lives were thus sacrificed to the mistakes of a moment. Both had in that brief space opened up the source of grief for life. They would not bear and forbear when ifc was yet time, by kindly concession, to repair the breach irritationhadmadeandabriefword would have amended. But passion had its way, and the grave only healed the wound caused by the unguarded utterances.