Cincinnati daily press. [volume] (Cincinnati [Ohio]) 1860-1862, 1862-01-30


Moses. Remember was but q girl--barely
eighteen.
AT length 1 heard familiar tap upon
the door, and sprang to open it. Mr.. Lincoln
had come.
"Alone," he said, as he entered and
| glanced around the room.
! ! explained the cause Of Mrs. Niles alb
sence. A look not so much of gladuess os
of relief crossed his face. lie sat down
with an air Of resolve and deliberatiou.
ut is fortunate that | came. have been
wanting to see you alone for long time
! and intended tonight to have arranged
such meeting. But Fate or Providence
seems to have managed it for me. l must
tell you the whole truth, Gertrude truth
neither pleasant to tell nor to hear. You
must know just how am situated, and
then you shall decide whether l can see
you any more"
As he spoke the room seemed to grow
very cold and dark. Struggling with the
gloom, my eyes could see only his face, aud
on it sat more than the old despair. | felt
a shuddering presentiment. The trouble
which was coming nigh me seemed already
to chill my forehead with its icy touch l
folded my hands and nerved myself to lis
ten.
can not repeat the story which he told
me in his own words It was briefly this
lie had married when quite young a wo-
man whom he thought he truly loved; by
whom he believed himself beloved in return.
She was beautiful; brunette, full of fire
and pride; wayward, exacting and capri
ciOus For time her beauty had enslaved
him, her petulant humors held him in thrall.
NJ hnwavar hoo
wearisome. He was tired of playing the
lover, coaxing and submitting by turns.
He felt it was time that the uuietness and
happiness of a peaceful union should sue
ceed to the fantasies of year-long honey
moon. AT this she rebelled. He found that
her temper, as we'll as her beauty, was of
the torrid zone. 4 calm existence did not
suit her. She cared little for the pleasures
of the intellect, little for the quiet peace of
domestic life-she would have worship or
war. He made this discovery just before
the birth Of his first child-his little boy
! This event had re- awakened all his tender
ness for the mother as we'll as the infant.
! Katherine was very beautiful in her ill
ness, and toward her child she seemed to
develop patient love which was q new
phase of her character. No sooner had she
regained her usual health, however, than
the customary scenes of miserable violence
and contention commenced again. 1t might
have been his fault even more than hers. lie
had been carried captive by her beauty, and
had striven eagerly to obtain her hand, never
pausing to consider whether her nature was
really fitted to make him happy, and when
she was his wife, he had like so many men,
expected to find in her traits of character
which she never had possessed. In short,
they had both mistaken for love thoughtless
passion, which had presently consumed it.
self
For three years after his boys birth things
had gone on thus-there had been tempests
of wrath fierce as tropic storm, long con-
tinued arrangements and now and then an
| interlude of reconciliation, q gest of fond
ness. BY this time his little girl was born,
and after that there were no more glimpses,
ever so brief, of sunshine.
For his children's sake he strove for still
another year to remain under the saue roof
with her, but a time came when this was no
longer possible. Mutual recriminations had
again and again goaded them almost to
madness, until both became convinced that
| the only relief was in separation. They
parted in anger, without one word on either
side Of relenting or forgiveness. Four years
had passed since that day, but he had not
once seen the faces of wife or children.
When he had proceeded thus far in his
narration lie paused, and sat for few mo
ments looking into the fire. l would fain
have broken the silence with at least sem
tence of sympathy, to let him know that
| understood him-that had not listened to
| him unmoved-but | could not speak then.
! The time would come no doubt, when
could forget my own anguish in nv sympa-
| thy for his; but believe the first impulse
OF every human heart-at least every wo-
man's-in any hour of deathly agony, is
selfish. With the poisoned arrow yet rank
ling in my own heart, how could | calmly
strive to soothe in his n wound which had
already begun to cicatrize
At length he spoke again.
81 do not hate Katherine. God knows,
| Gertrude, that pity her as fervently as
do myself, nay, more; for she is woman,
and to a woman it is doubly terrible to
know that she must live forever with her
hearts warmest beatings repressed and
stihed. But for me she might have mar.
ried some one else, whom she could have
made happy, with whom she could have
been happy herself. Now her life must be
like mine, desolate."
''She has her children" found voice to
say.
To DE CONTINUED.