The Secret Drawer

Having uothing more to do while waiting for the clock to strike 3, ha arranged his papers, laid his pens away in the drawer, and af ter casting a glance at his clerks drowsing in the neighboring room closed his desk. He feit so gay, so light hearted, that he could have slid down the baluster of the soinber niinisterial staircase, but he contained himself , and saluting the conciërge, who was surprised to see him leave so early, entered the Rue Eoyale, now foathed in sunshine. Certainly it was unusual for siich a model employee to be abroad so early. Well, what was the use of remaining two hours longer in the office when there was nothing lef t to do but snip papers, kill flies or try to write plays for the theater, occupations that were equally uninteresting and unprofitable? He was not long in reaching his home, for since his marriage he had lived in the ' Rue Royale itself . How surprised and pleased his wife would be to see hixn home so early! He entered stealthily on the tips of his toes, crossed the antechamber and stood in the parlor. It was enipty! No one in the dining room, no one in the bedchamber nor the boudoir. Evidently she was in the garden, hiding to surprise him, or possibly swinging in a hammock, enjoying the fragrant warmth of the beautif ui day. He ran there quick as a thought. He did not find his wife. This was getting serious. Why should she have gone out? He knew of nothing pressing that could have called her away! It was understood that she was always to wait for him; if the beauty of the day had tempted her. she should have stopped at the minister 's and told him as usual. lu the room e erything reminded him of her. A vague perfume - her perfume - fioated over all. A handkerchief thrown down on the edge of the toilet table, a pair of gloves, too soiled perhapsfor use, left on the bedroom mantel, showed that she had gone out in a hurry, because she was so orderly generally, and everything had its place. There was another reason for believing that something unusual had called her aivay, or why were these trines tossed about so carelessl.yV Tormented with doubt, his mind filled with vague suspicion, he sat down in the parlor and resigned himself to wait for her return. But he could not remain quiet. Af ter some moments he went toward the secretary and opened the bookcase abova it. As the classics were in the back, he took out the volume in front, which he placed on a tr.ble at his side, and begau rea-ding a volume of Moliere. The secretary was of ebony of the time of Louis XVI, ornamented with bronze open work. The desk leaf witbin was covered with stamped leather, and above it, hidden in the fretwork, was a false drawer. His wife was very fond of this piece of f urniture, which he had given her one fete day about a month after their narriage. He had hunted a long time before he discovered it at au old antiqu&r'un's, who assured him that it had remair.-ed in the possession of one fainily ever tince it was made. It was an elegant and graceful piece of furniture, and in spite of the high pries Louis had not hesitated to buy it. Then it was installed in the apartment during his wife's absence, and when she came in and saw it how sbs had flung her arms about her husbando neck and thanked him as only a true wife can! It was indeed a little marvel. Slie had opened all the-httle drawera and poured into them the thousand and one Httle trines tbat constitute a woman's treas■ure, and of which she is more prou.l than of her jewèls, and she said, "This is my eecretary," with all the jealoua pride of a proprietor. Louis soon fonnd th9 passage he waí j ceeking in Moliere, and it had diverted i his niind. He was less worried than f ore. As he was replacing the books. one slipped froin his hand, and in attenipting to catch it he strnck the j ing on the top of the secretary. Thero was the sound of a click, and the front of the false drawer swung out, display - ing a hiding place whose existence he had never suspected. His wife had never spoken to hini aboat this, nor had the merchant who sold it, or he-would prob.ably have niadfl it an excuse for raising the price. Suddenly bc saw a package of letters in the dept.hs of this tiny closet. Here was a romance! No doubt these papers ' were precious docunients and had been placed there during the Revolution. He undid the package and then started back. Instead of antique manuscript the :the paper was quite new and the handwriting perfectly modern, go modern that the ink was still black. He was tempted to throw this package, which 'jurned his hands, back in the drawer and put everything in order again, but curiosity was stronger than raason, and ■with a trembling hand he opened the first letter I At the first word which he read a mist came beforo his eyes; he feil ontslretched on the sofa. These letters without doubt had been placed there by his wife, who had said nothing to him about the secret drawer that he had discovered. What he believed to be the correspondente of a friend, written in response to tliose confidences which a young woman would be apt to tnake after marriage, was in a tnan's hand. And what other man but hiniself had a right to address her as "My darling?" He opened the letters one after anofcher. There was little variation in the j way they began- it was either "My adored one" or "My well beloved." Well, he would get at the heart'of the matter, so he began to read one of the letters, the one first under his hand. This is what it contained: M v Dbabbst Well Beloved- Vhen you informod me yesterday that they were forcing you to marry in order to forget me; that your párenla obliged you to prefer my rival, I could notrefruin f rom tears and reproaches. You know my love for you - that is my ouly excuse. Today I am coming to beg you to postpone this impossible uuion. Teil this man that you do not love him; that you can nevcr love him. He will understand aud retire. If he persists, thenso niuch tlie vorse for him Fear nothing - I am uot threatening you - today I am calm. My wholo happiness is in your hands. I await your ansiver wlth impatience, but confidence. Wit h deepest love, Jülien. He passed his hand tremblingly over his forehead, looked around uini stupidly, asking hiniself if this was not sonie frightful dream. No, he was at home in his own parlor aear his wife's secretary, and in his hand was a letter- a love letter. Then Fabienne - his Fabienne? No, not It was impossible! He threw the letter f rom him angrily. Then curiosity again seized him, and he took up one of the other notes - a short one containing only a few Unes: Mv Adored- When you receive these lines, I ehall hare left France. I shall not come back unii you recall me. I cannot be the accoruplice in a lie, or live near you and the husband they have forced uion you any longer. God grant that you may never have to repent. Farewell, farewell! A last kiss on the Ups 1 adore. Julien. This was too much. He rose with a bound, seattering the letters on the floor, where they fluttered like a flock of frightened birds. He staggered to the window to cool his burniug forehead. He stood there for a moment stupefied, hifi eyes on the clouds, then began to walk up and down the room with nervous strides, like a caged animal. Af ter a while he sat down and reflected. It was fcrue - Fabienne, whom he loved 80 much and in whom he had so much confidence, was like all other womenl She had lied to him f rom the first. She had lied to him since, every day. All those little caresses and evidences of affection had only served as a mask for the basest treachery. He had been too happy. It could not last. How could she have deceived him so? How could a woman with a character so sweet yetso decided, who spoke so frank - ly, whose look was so pure and loyal - how could she stoop to such dnplicity? How had she begun to play such a part when nothing in her way of living, in her language, her manner, betrayed secret preoccupation? By what power of will had she been able to conceal a mystery so deep and penetratin;? Well, it was all over - this fatal discovery was the supreme blow. His life was broken f ore ver! As he sat there the panorama of his life passed before him. The days of his childhood came back one by one. He saw himself again running like a colt through the woods of his country home, startling his niother by the audacity of his exploits. Then one day his fatljer's sudden death and the departure in tears. Years of battle followed. The little rooms in the Rue Truffant, with Lise, the old servant, who.would not abandon theni. Then college, with its long and tedious lessons, and finally the c:.-owning step to 6uccess, his admission to the government office, where he made his way rapidly. He recalled his meeting with her. It was in the house of an old f riend of the family at a soiree. He was standing awkwardly in a corner of the room rubbing his white-gloved hands nervously together when she came in followed by a murmur of admiration. She raised her eyes, they met his, and the romance of his life had begun. Delicious i nes followed- he loved to linger over ; them now as over a beautifuldream that I cannot, must not be forgotten. Seated here in his own parlor that had been the scène of so much happiness, a terrible sadness oppressed hini. The romance was' over; the book must be closed. He feit that awful sensation of the irreparable, tkat impression of emptiness which seizes one after a great misfortune - one on which our entire life dopends. His anger feil, and he regretted that he had found these letters. Better to have lived out his days in peace and ignorance. How many husbands quite as unfortunate as himself in other ways were living in tranquillity, free from doubt, üursed letters! But what reason had he for thinking that they were written to her? Thej' were not in envelopes. There was no address. Perhaps they belonged to a triend. It would be just like Fabienne to have taken charge of a secret correspondence to help one she cared for. But was he not a part of her? She need not have confided everything to hiin, but she tnight bave spoken about it. Perhaps she had forgotten to or feared to anger him. Some day, no doubt, she would teil him all. He was ready to 6eize at any idea to dispel his suspicions, and as he reflected he recovered in a measure his spirits. He made the resolurion to return the letters to their hiding place, put everytliing in order and say nothing for the present about the matter. Then soine day he would suddenly unmask his batteries, and his wife would be forced to avow her guilt or explain the mystery. He gathered up the letters carefully and linced theni in the secret drawer, fearing every moment that his wife uright enter and surprise him. He looked at the clock. It was only an hour since Ue had come in, and yet it seemed as if i years during that time. He hastened to arrange everything and closed the secret drawer. At that moment the doorbell rang. Just in timet It was probably his wife, who had forgotten her key. He feit a sharp twinge in his heart at the thought of meeting her face to face, but he hurried to let her in. Instead of his wife, whom he expected, a strange man confronted him, who addressed him by his own name. "Sir," saidthe visitor, "Iwish tospeak to you particularly, and I shall be obliged if you will give me an interview of flve minutes - if I do not distorb you." This speech puzzled Louis, but he made a motion for the stranger to enter. He closed the door, and they sat down in the parlor. The visitor was tall and sturdily built. His face, sunburned and weather beaten, showed that he was accustomed to a life in the open air. A red ribbon in his button hole indicated that he was an officev in the navy. He cast a sweeping look about thé room, theu his face lighted up, and he said: "I hope you will excuse this intrusión, sir, but. the matter was of so much importance to me that I sought ont yonr address and hastened here. I will come straight to the point. I beg that you will sell me, at any price, your ebony secretary." Louis started in surprise and stammered out: "Sir, what do you mean?" "Oh, I know that my proposition is a Btrange one, but when you understand my motive you will pardon me. That piece of furniture which you bought from the dealer, who gave me your name, was sold at a time of need by a person" - Here the voice of the stranger trembled. "By a person who through my fault was passing through a painful crisis. She had just lost her husband, who had squandered her fortune to the last penny, and she was forced to sell everything, even to the srnallest trme. This secretary, which has been in the family for a nuinber of years, weut with the rest. But she would onlj' consent to part with it on condition that it could be bought back at the end of a year. As "she did not appear at that time it was purchased by you. I was out of France at the period. Well, I came back and found iny unhappy f riend. Our first thought was to find the dealer and recover the secretary. I learned through him yhere it was, and here I am. I trust you will accede to my request, strange as it may appear." "Sir," eaid Louis, "unfortunately that piece of furniture belongs to my wife, and she has filled it with her own things. I could not possibly disarrange it without consulting her." The stranger grew palé. Then he said to Louis in a choking voice: "Sir, do you know if y our wife discovered a secret hiding place in the secretary?" ■What hiding place are you talking abopt?' exclaiined Louis, with feignetl astor.ishment. Tiie stranger sprang toward the secretar v and in a momeut had opened the secret drawer, pointing at the same time to the package of letters. "You will understand by this why I cherish this piece of the furniture. Those letters were written by me to the woman wrho today became my wife." The words had hardly lef t bis lips before Louis was feverishly tossing out pellmell the many trilles that filled the drawers and compartments. "Take it," he cried. "Take it away, sir. I am only too happy to give it to you!" When his wife entered a few minutes afterward and saw the parlor in such disorder and her secretary gone, she uttered a cry of dismay. "Console yourself, my darling," said Louis, drawing her close to his heart. "That piece of furniture revived unpleasant memories. I promise you another - another more beautiful." And he sniiled through his tears so tenderly that she grew calm, not understanding his grief, but feeling that what had hepn Hnnf! must be. after all. for tho