The Kanzas news., 1859-06-11
The Wife.
BY JOHN G. WHITTIER.

She was beautiful girl when first saw
her. She was standing at the side of her
lover, at the marriage altar. She was slight
1y pale-yet ever and anon, as the ceremo-
ny proceeded, faint tinge Of crimson eros
sed her beautiful cheek, ike the reelection of
q sunset upon the clear waters Of a quiet
lake. Her lover, as he cfasped her hand
within his own, gazed On her fcg a few mo-
.meuts with unmingled admiration, and the
warm and eloquent blood shsdowed at inter-
vals his manly forehead, and "melted into
fbeauty on his lip"
And they gave themselves to one another
In the presence of heaven, and every heart
blessed them, as they went their way rejoic-
ing in their love.
Years passed on, and again saw these
lovers. They were seated together where
the light of sunset stole through the half
closed and crimson curtain, lending rich
er tint to TIE delicate carpeting and the ex-
quisite establishment of the rich and gor-
geous apartment. Time had slightly chan
ged them in outward appearance. The girl
ish buoyancy of the one had indeed given
place to the grace of perfect womanhood, and
her lip was somewhat paler, and faint line of
care was slightly perceptable upon her brow.
Hea husbands brow, too, was marked some
what more deeply than his age might war
rant; anxiety, ambition, and pride, had
grown over it, and left their traces upon it;
silver hue was mingled with the dark of
his hair, which had become thin around his
temples, almost to badness. He was recli-
ming on his splendid ottoman, with his face
half hidden by his hands, as if he feared
that the deep aud troubled thoughts which
oppressed him were visible upon his fea-
lures.
edward, you are ill tonight" said his
wife, in low, sweet half-inquiring voice,
as she laid her hands upon his own.
Indifference from those we love is terri
hle to the sensitive bosom. It is as if the
sun of heaven refused its wonted cheerful
ness, and glared upon us with cold, dim,
and forbidding glance. 1t is dreadful to
feel that the only being of our love refuses
to ask our sympathy, that he broods over
the feelings that he scorns or fears to re-
veal, dreadful to watch the convulsive fea-
lures and the gloomy brow, the indeinable
shadows of hidden emotions, the inyolun-
tary sigh OF sorrow in which we are for
Didden to participate, and whose character
We cannot know -sa
She essayed once more Edward" !" she
said, slowly. mildly, and affectionately,
t'ths time has been when you were willing
to confde your secret joys and sorrows to
one who had never, trust, betrayed your
confidence. Why, then, my dear Edward,
is this cruel reserve You are troubled,
and yet refuse to tell me the cause"
Something of returning tenderness soft
ened for an instant the cold severity of the
husbands features, but it passed away, and
q bitter smile was his only reply.
The time passed on, and the twain were
separated from each other. The husband
sat gloomy and alone in the damp cell af a
dungeon. He had followed ambition as his
god. and had failed in high career He
has mingled with men whom his heart loath-
ed. he had sought out the fierce and wrong
ed spirits of the land. and had breathed in
to them the madness of revenge He had
drawn his sword against his country; he
had famed rebellion to fame, and it had
been quenehed in human blood. He had
fallen, miserably fallen, and was doomed to
the death of traitor.
The door of the dungeon opened, and a
light form entered and threw herself into
his arms. The softened light of sunset fell