Cincinnati daily press. [volume] (Cincinnati [Ohio]) 1860-1862, 1862-02-03
CHAPTER III-AND LAST.

CHAPTER lII-AND LAST.
Providence had brought me here-I ought
not to leave now. Indeed had nowhere
else to CO. There could be no place
where was more safe from the danger Of
meeting him. This path had been opened
to me, and my feet should walk on it with
out faltering. Shall l confess that there
was one CLEAN of troubled Joy in the pros
pect2 could love him and serve him in
nocently in loving and serving his children.
1t was not strange that | took him into my
heart from that moment. l had made up
my mind concerning the future, and fully
regained my self-command, when servant
opened the door and said:
"Mrs. Lincoln is coming, ma'am. She
will be with you at once"
She had scarcely ceased speaking when
her mistress came into the room.
| rose to meet her-face to face l stood
with Andrew Lincoln's wife. Physically,
she was the most choice and perfect speci-
men of beautiful womanhood | had ever
seen. To this day / think l have never
met her peer. The picture she made as she
stood there will never fade from my mem
ory. The crimson curtains fell apart at
the western window, and the golden sun
set rays lit up her dark hair into warm
chestnut tints. Full, queenly figure, clad
all in white, as suited the balmy April
day-bright cheeks, and lips Of the red
dest-eyes full of slumberous fre-little
hands, glittering with gems-she charmed
me like figure from an Oriental romance.
Her husband had told me she was proud,
but she never could have been naughty.
There was certain childlike impulsiveness
in her manner still-she would carry il
with her all her life.
She took my hand and looked searchingly
into my face for a moment
II am sure 1 shall like you''-she said
the words with warm, satisfied smile.
'Let us be real friends, Miss Hamilton"
awe will" l answered her quietly, but
in the silence of my soul | recorded the
words as vow. God knows kept it. l
was her true friend from that hour.
Days wore on, and something which was
not quite happiness, yet bore strange re-
semblance to it, stole into my heart.
loved Andrew Lincoln's children as shall
never love children again, and loved Kath-
crime his wife. Her character must have
changed much in the solitary years since
her husband left her. She was not exact
ing now-certainly not selfish. l have
never seen a mother more tender or de.
voted, especially to Andrew, whose resem-
blance, in both face and manner, to his
father, daily appeared to me more striking.
Was this likeness the secret of the tears
so often saw in her eyes when she kissed
him2
She had appeared to like me from the
first. She sought my society, and seemed
Ho oh 10 Ill
dren's governess merely, but her friend and
her equal. One day, with gnsh of pas
sionate weeping, she told me her story. 1t
was much the same which l had listened
to before from Andrew Lncolns lips, only
she blamed herself more than be had blamed
her. 1t was all her fault, she said. She
had been q spoiled child, turbulent, and
exacting, and she had playedwith his love
until she had lost it.
''And did you love him all the while2" /
asked.
~ did not think 50 then, but am sure
now that my real love for him never
wavered. For long time, though, thought
actually hated him. My fierce temper
was in the ascendant. He provoked me,
and l suppose | was half mad. 1 told him
more than once that all would ask in the
world would be TO have him go away from
me out of my sight, and never torment me
again with his presence"
"And he only took you at your word ?"
She smiled bitterly. "Only that; but he
had not been gone long before | knew that
be had taken with him all that | cared for
in life. am desolate, heart-broken woman,
Gertrude. have my children, it is true ;
his children and mine. 1t is having them,
l believe, which has kept me alive; but
would give every thing on earth to feel the
forgiving pressure of his lips, to hear him
say as he used to say, Katherine, l love
you Oh, ii you only knew him you could
tell better what | have lost and what bit
ter right have to mourn"
If l only knew him Alas alas did |
not know him too well for my own hearts
peaee2 lie was indeed all she had pictured
him-but what was that to me? He was
hers only. He ought to be hers. She was
worthy Of him too. | commanded myself
perfectly. No one could have suspected
that l was more than Katherine Lincoln $
sympathizing friend-no one dreamed that
had heard Of her husband before. 1 asked
n quiet tones,
"But why, if you think the chief fault
"oo J Jul . hoNe you not NIllltn IOf nun 10
ONE back Was it not your duty to make
he first advances, if yours had been the
: rst blame2 Do you say that you love him.
I nd are yet too proud for this, Mrs. Lin
oln ?"
She shook her head sadly.
'It is not pride, Gertrude. Pride with
me died violent death long ago, but IoDt
my husband. What comfort would his pres
ence be when knew that his heart had shut
me out2 And yet | think sometimes, that
he might love me now better than he used
have tried so hard since he went away to
grow up to his standard-to be all that he
admired in woman. It has been the law of
my life. Vain words Men never thread
the same path twice, do they2 | was hate.
ful To him when he went away. lie might
come back, if sent for him, out of duty or
pity, but if he loved me he would wait no
summons"
There was truth in her words, and yet |
felt that they must, in some way, be brought
together What capacities for blessings
were in both their natures Her love for
bim, despite all, was true and steadfast.
He would love her if he were to see her
nOK-le could NOT heln n I lonoa1 10 do