The Wheeling daily register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1864-1878, 1865-06-06

-L=,r
CHING to him; nv boys, flushed with
health, and full of the resolute Will tnat
resisted Ninnie's lax discipline; my pa
by-baby still-uttering her fondness
only by inarticulate murmurs d Dy
those shy, fond glances. l only asked TO
see them all once more before :! turned
back into the desert had chosen TO
wander in. i.
It was quite dark before we reached
the landing, and the river rolled black
and turbid, full of floating ice, an i'm
passable barrier, cutting off my goal
At any other moment itwould have turn
ed me back, full of cowardly fears but
now 1 begged and implored the fisher
men, whose boats were drawn up from
the fury of a threatening storm, to cross
the low, angry swell, promising them
food and shelter on the other side. l
think I should have gone mad to nave
waited there uutil morning-so near. yet
hopelessly separated. Entreaties were
of no avail, nor promises; but gold
tempted them, to the peril of their lives
they said. 1 did not care; l knew that
we should %outlive the storm. 1t met us
midway in the channel, floating for a
time almost helplessly, threatened 10y
every way, while masses of crashing ice
rushed by, and the black waves whiried
and boiled and covered us with driving
spray. But they did not bury us-for
the men toiled for their lives, while L
covered before the d%renching surf, re-
m~embering whose will alone could give
them power against us.
So dark, so silent-Only the rushing
of the water and the wailing of the wind
among the willows that lined the shore.
For a moment | lost all clew to where l
| stood. thought it was a blessing to feel
the firm land beneath me-; and then a
faint, distant light told me where to
guide my steps. ,
Sadly dim and cheerless it was, instead
of the warm hospitable blaze which once
had shone from those very windows
| cherries as the hearth on which it flick
cred, sending up now and then a stronger
flame, but dying down almost to dark
ness. ! found the gate at last, and closed
it noiselessly behind me. For the first
time a sickening apprehension came
now that | was so near what lay before
ME. Sometimes l had dreamed that |
stood close as this to my own threshold,
but an inevitable fate had chained me
there. The curtains were undrawn;
there was no one to intrude. The fire
flashed up as | drew near, and revealed
the room, the round table, so bright OF
old with its crimson cloth, and books and
work and household lamp, now empty,
save for the crossed arms and the dear
head they pillowed. Such hopeless de
s~pondency! The bowed form, once SO
manly and elastic-the covered face-l
read it all How weary and worn was
that desolate heart. by that desolate
hearth
Nv footsteps did not startle Frederick
Had | not seen him thus should have
met him with the reserve that became
my condition; but knowing only too we'll
all the detection aud the dreariness that
bowed him down, | thought only of com
forting him, not once of myself, OF how
he would receive me. | bent over him,
and drew his head upon my bosom |
slnoothed those tangled and disordered
locks with both my hands, and showered
kisses upon them and tears, and mnr-
INJURED EXPLANATIONS of pity and OF sooth-
ing, rs a mother comforts her child.
After the first wild start he lay there,
without a word, only twining his arms
about my waist, and sobbing in long
convulsive throes, such as a man seldom
gives way to, save by the coffin and the
grave.
knew then that | was forgiven and
ing, quite as we'll as when he ftnTffed to
comfort me, long after midnight, long at
ter we had told each other all, for my
punishment had overtaken mel had
gone to my children, and my baby's cot
rd5 empty.
| can write, but not speak of it even
now; for to a mothers natural grief there
was a bitter reproach added that no
words could give voice to-a silent wall
ing that steals in at times upon my
brightest hours, that is not hushed to-
day though my sons and my daughters
have grown up around ME l still see
that loving, eager face-those little arms
stretched out before me-and know
that when | turned away from them, for
a time, my guardian angel left me.