Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1859-01-21
CHAPTER III.

went.
Up and down over the dewy grass she
paced; her white face turned toward the
heavens, mute, terrible agony in its every
lineament. There were no tears in the
glaring eyes, no words of suffering es-
capped from the pallid, parted lips Tor the
tears were frozen in their fountains, and
the emotions within her heart too tumul-
tuous to find utterance in words. An
hour was spent in this rapid march; an
hour of such anguish as only those know
who have seen suddenly enter their
homes the messenger of Death who,
having looked for much joy, have found
grief all the more bitter that is unavail-
ing then the wife came in, and kneel
ing by the sofa, wound her arms around
the iuanimate body of her husband, and
leaned her head upon the bosom that
few hours since had throbbed so warmly
for her. She thought upon all his past
devotions; his tender love; of the hap
py days they had spent together, never
marred by an unkind word; and, lastly,
of the bright fancies that all the beautiful
September day she had been weaving,
never dreaming that the dark shadow of
the grave was to lie henceforth 'twixt
her and him, whose coming she had so
eagerly anticipated.
She lifted her head to look upon the
still, quiet features of the dead. The
moonbeams stole in through the nod
ding rose trees, kissed softly the noble
brow-its ghostly fingers threading the
ebon hair sweeping over the pillow.
'Oh, Cod moaned the mourner, can
it be that this is all of Arthur? Oh,
Arthur! Arthur! my husband, look upon
me; open your lips, and tell me [ am
dreaming. Don't hold those flowers SC
freezingly-fing them down, and place
your hands upon my forehead-it is Sc
hot and burning?
She lifted one of the nervelesS hands
and put it against her brow; then started
wildly, as if at the confirmation of new
fear, shrieking:
'Oh, he as dead dead and I alive
Nothing to live for; nothing to love-
Heavenly Father take me tool'
She wound her arms more tightly
about her idol, and hid her face again
upon the icy breast.
As she lay there, insensible to every
thing but this one great sorrow, a thrill
ing whisper hoated to her ears. 1t ar
ticulated distinctly and clearly thes
words:
Our boy! Havey you forgotten him
f She gazed long and earnestly into tn
face of the dead.
Had he spoken?
She felt humbled at her entire selfish
, ness, and forgetfulness of the preciou
one whom she had just prayed to leav
, leave to a worse, more cruel fate tina
q death-to scorn and taunts, the orphan
y heritage. She ran to the crib of tn
slumbering child, and, lifting him, gentl
folded him to her bosom then, kneelin
n by her Arthur's side, vowed to prize th
life given her; for the boys sake t
watch over, and care for the helpless il
f fant, guiding the tender feet into the tru
h path, and finding sweet reward in gi'
e ing to the world, a noble upright man
n The world wondered at the quiet d
n meanor, and lack of outward emotc
displayed by the young wife at the hu
Il bands funeral. They little knew no
% hard she had struggled for this cor
p posure, alone, in the silence of midnigh
\ No eye but Gods, which ever looks pit
O. ingly upon his children, saw her moa
in ing and weeping in the seclusion of h
II chamber.
Many called her heartless-alI sa
Iy she was woman of but little leelin
9, Cynics shrugged their shoulders, al
s. would like to know who she would {
is her widows cap for.
to But few can understand the noble pri
m ciple prompting to self-control, wbit
ly abnegating all thoughts of self, devoi
by one life to the formation of anotke
h. making all things subservient to ii
H. others good.
er Thus it was, that though the shad
er lay forever upon the heart of the W
(now widow and mother, there was ST
ok light in her smile, and subdued JOY bea
no ing from her face; that no gloom cast
er the memories of death, and anguish ev
so present in her soul, might mar the brig
e. ness Of the home which was to be M
be pleasant for Carl,