Extracts from Mrs. Lofty's Diary, Part V. Ethelberta [pp. 502-513]

EXTRACTS FROM MRS. LOFTY'S DIARY.
a start and look over at Ethel, who was
commencing on her third muffin. Presently he got me out of the room by
means of some of those cabalistic w\vinks
and nods known to married couples, and
showed me an item among the dispatches.
It was just one of those items you see in
the paper every morning and never think
twice of. Some man in a position of
trust absconding with money that does
not belong to him. There was nothing
particularly novel in the details of this
occurrence. A young man of good family, excellent reputation, prominent in
church work, cashier in a trust company,
treasurer of various guilds and societies,
had levanted with everything he could
lay his hands on, including another man's
wife. And of course the enterprising reporter had already discovered that the
exemplary youth had led one life for the
benefit of the respectable public and another for his own private amusement.
It was the defaulter's name that was
striking to us, for it had a familiar sound.
"Is not that Ethelberta's model young
man?" asked Harry.
"I am very much afraid it is," I responded.
We gazed at one another blankly.
"I suppose there's no keeping it from
her? " suggested Harry.
"Of course not," I said. "Sooner or
later she must know it."
"Better get it over with at once,
then," remarked my liege lord, seizing
his hat. "I'11 leave it to your tact to
manage it." And he shot out of the
door before I could so much as seize his
garment to detain him. Tact! Yes, I
suppose it requires tact in the head
lyncher to jerk the rope at the proper
moment; but it appears to me a little
healthy callousness would be more serviceable. Anyway, I let Ethel go off
with a bevy of girls on some sort of foray,
all unconscious of her misfortune. It
was not until after lunch that I took my
courage in both hands, as the French
say, and observed carelessly, "Did you
notice in the paper this morning, some
man in Cincinnati, the same name as
your fiance, has been doing dreadful
things?"
"What things?" asked Ethel, interested, but not as yet at all startled.
"Going off with another man's wife,
for instance," I said.
"The idea!" said she. "Some old
reprobate, old enough to be a grandfather, I'11 warrant. Where is the paper?"
I handed it to her silently, folded at
the place, and waited breathlessly. Surprise, incredulity, horror, chased each
other across her face, till the paper
dropped from her hands and she gazed
at me despairingly.
"0 Auntie, it can't be!" was all she
said.
"Surely, I hope not," I returned fervently. We had a bad hour, and then
my niece straightened herself up.
"What a fool I am," she cried, "to
torment myself this way, when there
are telegraphs! Get Martin, and I will
send a dispatch at once."
The telegram sent, Ethel bathed her
eyes and declared she would wrong herself and her lover no more with such unworthy fears. Of course it was all a
mistake, and she should never forgive
herself for doubting him for an instant.
Happily, the human heart is so constituted that in the presence of sorest calamity it can give itself these momentary
respites: else, how would it endure to
run its race? And when again the icy
hand of the inevitable clutches it in its
unrelenting grasp, a merciful numbness
seems to have supervened. The bitterness of death is already past. So when
Ethel's answer came, from the old friend
to whom she had sent for information,
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