Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1858-07-07
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From Harper's Magazine for June.
A MOTHERS CONFESSION,
lCoNcLUDED.l

nlng, ut IS long time since we have had
drive together, and this is too lovely
lay to waste in the house. Get on your
bonnet and come with me-"
| assented joyfully, as would have done
TO any other proposal from him, and we
we're soon seated in the light rockaway be-
hind Norman's pretty 'tSorreI," who had
carried me so often in the DAYS of our
eoureship. Since oursxnsrriage / had pres
ferred more ambitious equipage,1 but to-
day [ sprang into the little carriage with
step almost as light as in the old davs, and
a heart happier by far. It was early in
May the sky was dappled with white
clouds over the loveiest blue, the trees COW
cred with tender green foliage, and even
the air in the city streets seemed pure and
sweet with the freshness of the spring-time.
But we did not stay in the city streets We
ry long. The Rockaway ratified quickly
over the paving stones, and we were soon
out of sight and sound of the noisy thor
oughfares, rolling swiftly along smoth,
level road, with groups of green trees here
and there, and clusters of pretty cottages
standing in gardens, whose hyacinths and
crocuses lent fragrance to the cool spring
breeze that blew in our faces. Every thing
was delightful and full Of enjoyment for
me. 1t had been solong since | had known
any thing like happiness, that it came with
sort OF ofintoxication to me now, and my
spirits rose to almost childish mirthfulness
under the combination of sweet influences
around me.
'Look, Norman !" | exclaimed, eaylv,
as we passed under fine old sycamore,
''there IS our own old tree. Don't you re-
member how you always would snatch
kiss when we reached it? The Tree of
Paradise you used to call it, because it was
just when we were passing under that |
said 'yes'-one day. Let's forget that we
are married, Norman, and play that we
are lovers again. Now, there's challenge
for you"
He smiled, drew my laughing face down
to his, and accepted the challenge by kis-
sing me two or three times, but he made
no other answer to my playful words. In
my own talkative humor | had not mott
ced that he had been growing silent and
grave for some time but it struck me now
t|fet bI9c; -ca;lGs ahsen+ and rra- -oaau
almost unconsciously, as if he had scarce
| " heard what l said, and | exclaimed in
some surprise.
"What is the matter with you, Norman
what are you thinking of?'
He started hastily, then said in hesita-
ting way, "There is something that Iwant
to tell you. | am thinking about the best
way to do it."
"What is it?" l asked, sobered at once,
for his strange manner, with its mingled
nervousness and gravity, touched sudden
chord Of apprehension. He did not reply
Immediately, and waited for his words
with an anxious fear stealing into my heart.
Presently he turned his face toward me
with searching look: "You have never
spoken one word about your child" he
said, abruptly. "You have not even asked
me where it is buried e.
The suddenness of his speech startled
and shocked me: for once the child was
far from my thoughts, and this unlocked
for mention smote me with a keen pang
| could not say any thing, but Norman saw
the look of pain in my face, aud drew me
toward him tenderly. Forgive me, dea
Agnes, | did not want to distress you.-
But brought you out here to show you
the place. Would you not like to see it 2
"Why did you not tell me sooner e.
asked, hurriedly. 81 could not have talk
ed and laughed as l have done, if | hac
known Oh, Norman, why did you lie
me?"
because was glad to see you happy
darling" he said, simply, and kiss upo
my lips hushed them into stiffness for
time. We drove on in silence for som
little distance. Ny face was hidden o
NormaDs shoulder, and | could not kee
back the tears that sprang from man
mingled feelings. The mirth and ligh
heartedness of the morning was gone.
felt no longer like a happy girlin the fir
flush of her betrothal, but was again sol
rowing woman, shamed and bowed dow
with the grief and wrong-doing of my ma
ried life. Presently Norman whispered
"Agnes, you are crying what is the ma
teri" and tried to lift up my face, but
would not let it be seen.
as it for that little child 2" he asked
"Would you have it back again if ye
could? You said once"
"Dom't, Norman !" interrupted, impl
ringly, for knew too well what had sal
Il know what you mean but you can n
know what | have suffered in the memo
of those words, what | would give if b;
never spoken them. / might have hi
nv baby now but for them! 1t was a il
punishment, but it was very hard to be;
1 have lain awake whole nights thinki
about the child, longing for it so-and
was so hard to think had never even Sc
!. its little face! You never can know he
| have missed it, Norman"
cried bitterly for few minutes, III
bic to use any control over myself and
soothed me with the tenderest caresses,
though almost as much agitated as mys
If l had not benin such state Of distr,
l must have suspected something from
nervous, excited manner and the inco
rent words he said but only 1emembe
them afterward without noticing them th
Sorrel had been going at a very leisul
pace for some time past, knowing that
master was not thinking of him, doubtl'
but Norman now suddenly reused him