Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1861-11-07


4 When we reached within a street of our
destination l dismissed the carriage, and we
walked down the now almost deserted street.
which no longer derived even semblance
OF cheerfulnesi from the lighted show win.
dows. could feel how tightly Ada's arm
grasped mine in terror as we turned down
the narrow court, which scarce afforded pas.
sage for two. L took her hand as we ascend.
eed the stairs, cautioning her TO silence -
very slowly was our ascent made, for Ada,
unnerved already, and uDaccustomed TO such
scenes fell at almost every step. At length
we reached the head Of the stair. The door
was ajar, Us before, hut the fire had burned
down, and. dark and comfortless- looking.
scarce revealed the slight figure croucbing
still over it. She moved not, though she
must have heard the steps ascending.
But now | was afraid had asked too
much Of my child. Excited and trembling,
she leaned heavily upon me, and she whis-
pered, II cannot go in, papa" | saw that
she could not realize that that dropping. at
tenuated, wretched-looking creature could
be her mother, and she shrank from the re-
cognltlon Again she whispered, 1T ism Il!
IL cant be her !" But just then, as hes
itatei between returning and going forward
myself, she rose with the shawl still in her
hands, which she again pressed to her lips
and going to small box that stood in cor.
ner, united what seemed to be a bundle of
rags. An ember blazed up for few mo.
ments revealed to us its contents. A doll
and bunch of corals were alternately pressed
to the thin, faded lips. ] remembered when
she had bought them for our child. Ada,
too, recognized them A small gold locket.
which had given her after our marriage,
containing my likeness, was pressed again
ana again to her lips. while we could hear
tne low voice murmuring. God bless them,
my husband and child" Ada gently with.
grew her hand from my arm, and, stepping
forward, gently knocked. A cloth was
thrown over the carefully preserved memen-
toes, and then her voice bade her daughter
come in.
my mother % was all Ada said. as she
sprang forward, but, it was enough. Tn a
moment they were locked in each others
arms. Bewildered at the unexpected en-
trance, the woman raised the face that Law
on her. breast, sobbing convulsiyely, and
gazed into it. at is my child" ,he at
length said, satisfied it was no dream, but
reality.
There are scenes which the pen itself is
powerless to describe. This was one Freely
from my heart l granted Minna the forgive
ness she knelt to ask for the great wrong
she had done. That night l had seen
more clearly than / had ever done where /
had been to blame. have loved my wife
passlonately, but that love was vailed under
= calm, cold exterior. What her tampta-
tons had been L knew not-asked not
only asked if he, the destroyer of my peace,
were yet alive.
He had died ere year had passed. from
the time she left me; killed in gambling
quarrel; died bitterly repenting the great
wrong he had DONE As listened the bitter
ness died out of my heart. felt thankful
that / had not yielded to the first wild
promptings Of revenge. l felt solemniy the
power Of him who in my pride and rebellion
| had rejected. "Vengeance is mine, I will
repay, saith the Lord He had died in
disgraceful brawl in the noon of his days, in
foreign land, the victim of deep remorse,
consigned to dishonored grave, unwept save
perchance by the woman he had so foully
wronged.
And you," asked, "what did you?"
II sewed for my daily bread; washed,
ironed, did anything could find to do for
ten long years, depriving myself latterly of
the necessaries of life that l might save
enough to bring me back to my native land
once more to die. WANTED, unseen, to look
On your faces once more, and l did so many
q time, when you did not know. | have
longed to clasp my daughter to my arms, but
my sin stood before me, an impossible bar
iier. have longed to throw mysefat your
feet and seek but forgiveness l thought 1
could die then in peace, but you looked so
stern, so unrelenting,. l dared not, when l
knew 1t was that had brought that express
sion to your face. supported myself by
sewing for the shop, and managed to live
but | have been sick for a month, and re,
duced to the last extremity, and here none can
help another. Tonight | carried back some
work l had finished, hoping to get for it
sufficient to buy Inc morsel of bread. / had
tasted meme to-day. My hands had been
weak and trembling, and the work would
not do 1t was sent back with me- In des-
peration, unable to bide the cold and hunger
ur here, l wandered up and down the streets,
not caring whittier went till had reached
without noticing, your door, LEANED against
the ratings, unable to Danish the cravings
Of hunger. l saw light and warmth inside
and regardless Of everything but the longing
for.food and shelter, / commenced to sing
Annie Laurie" You had often praised nv
skill in singing it. When saw at whose
house l had asked for food and shelter, /
shrank back and refused to go in, dreading
recognition. You know the rest.
The account was frequently interrupted
by that tell-tale cough that shook the weak
frame so violently. In tears and silence we
listened no words Of reproach on our lips,
no looks Of coldness and rebuke in our ewes
Oh no She had sinned, but she had also
suffered. She shrank from my proposal
that she should now accompany us home,