The southern enterprise. [volume] (Greenville, S.C.) 1854-1870, 1855-02-23
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From Arthur's Home Magazine. ]
Bitter ano SW Get,
BY MRS. MAEY A. pENIsoN.

\ Jou pCttSI bS uoN UOWy JOIH
It's getting very late you will be worse to-
morrow" ~ s.. g, .s,s., g., E
Her eyes, sad, faded aud fearful, sought
the little mantel clock, and then rested, anx-
iously again upon the face Of her husband.
mo dear" replied the sick man, shaking
his head, while the rich uncut curls danced
upon his palid cheek, and singular ex-
preston crossed his countenance II think
III sit little longer yet. Put one stick on
the fire, dear my feet are very cold, and it's
a cold, too, that someway chills to my heart"
Qnickly.a quietly the poor woman took
from her little closet the last aud most COW
eted store of dry wood, and while she bent
over the broken Goals, adjusting it to- the
Unlocking Fireplace, the sick man held his
hand, with acurious look, to his eyes, ex-
an'ined the fingernails, heavily pressed his
damp forehead, and groaned. - ,...' .. T..
''What is, il dear 2" Ss,g s,,s ...,
! "Nothing that alarms me-" he replied
quietly, "but, at that monient it flashed
across my memory, among other things,
that tonight we have r1ourned Just five
years for the death of our poor boy" =,
+ ayes, so it is the night. said the wife,
thoughtfully. at was just such night, too,
when the old sexton brought the news. But
we were better off then, and didn't mind If
the snow blew in, for there was such fire in
the grate---a living coal fire such as we
haSnt seen for months and You were SO
healthy then. rather think, John, that was
what broke YOU down." ".,,.,.. '... ...4'.
.Yes, yes !" replied the other, hastily; al
havn't been the same man since; but we must
not complain; Providence is always good
though it seem ever so dark. Wallace was
noble fellow, and have never forgiven my
self, that by forcing upon him trade with
which he was disguised, l drove him to sea-
Oh if parents only knew just what to do !
if only they were not so wifull"
He clasped his hands as he spoke, and
gazed fixedly at the fire that threw forth now
a steady blaze. "If only they were not so
wilful." he added, with softer voice.
In few moments he looked up again,
and, smiling placidly, said, ut seems to me,
Mary, | don't feel so bad about leaving you,
tonight, as have before"
"Don't, John oh let US talk of some.
thing else. If you are to die, John,I don't
want to know--think of it'll it is all
over. thought / heard groan," she add
ed, moving little ways from the fire; 81
get so nervous when you talk So"
at was the wind, dear. Hear how it.beats
that broken blind; wish was strong
enough to mend it. Harkl it halls heavi-
ly; God pity the mariner" :" his voice ttem-
bled and sank. In a moment he added at
seems to be good fire, too, but someway it
don't warm my feet; thank you, Mary, that
will be better thank you. dear"
She had stopped down, and was now hold
ing thosethin feet in her hands, chatting
them briskly and tenderly. The ha!fwierd
light ofthe fire, as it sunk at times left STRANGE
brown hollows in that care-worn face. |,
struck out the shadows of the tall high-post
bedstead, whose tattered curtain had been
gathered around to the side where the sick
man laid. The high backed chairs threw
out shapes like coflns on the uncarpeted
floor, and the little. octagona table made
ghastly show of itself along the unpapered
wall.
J at did sound something like groan,"
said John, returning his wife's fearful glance;
"but it must be the wind moaning upstairs
Those rooms are old and crazy, and not rem
i ted they are full Of crevices for the wind to
rush through, and / dare say the noise
might be accounted for in dozen ways.
There, precious wife, you are wearying your
self. / feelabetter already; SO sit here by
my side, and let us talk together of old
times" .-. -
Shutting the tears back, Mrs. Leslie wrap.
ped her husbands feet in well worn flannel
and drew chair close beside him. The
clock struck that moment--it was eleven.
"Eleven o'clock" he said, as he took her
hand in his, now emaciated with long sick
i ness; "its good clock, Mary, and what fur.
niture we have ispretty decent. When !
She stopped him with kiss. but the tears
rained down her cheeks, and the wild storm
outside grew wilder.
I. "You have not altered much, Mary, in the
twenty years of our marriage Let Inc see
you were eighteen. How modest and bloom
ing you were, seated in your little school
room, on the first day of our meeting. Roses
hungfrom your curls then, placed there by
innocent fingers, and was strong and full q
high hopes; hopes, alas that have not been
J realised
,"But will be in Heaven. John,r said Mary,
J lifting her dark eyes. S,s .
| II believe il II have never doubted that
1 the future is all my hope now. The seed
: IL.