Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1867-06-07


last, and got ont of the cars mechani-
cally. His wife stood there waiting
for him. She had been anxious about
him all day.
30, William" she cried, and then
she saw his face and stopped. There
was the look on it of one over whom
some awful doom is pending-a white
fixed look that chilled her. She took
his arm, and they walked on silently,
through the summer afternoon
When they reached home and she had
taken off her bonnet, he spoke at
last:
"Mary, come here and let me look
at you. | want to learn your face by
heart"
She came and knelt by him, while
he took her cheeks between his hands,
and studied every lincament.
Are You going away ?"' She asked.
after while, for has fixed, silent mys-
terious gaze began to torture her.
eyes, | am going-into the dark. :"
"To die ?" she gasped.
ayes, to die to everything that
makes up a mans life in this world"
he answered bitterly, MARY, I am
going blind. Think what that means.
After a few weeks more, | shall never
see you again, or our children, or this
dear beautiful world where we have
lived and loved each other. The
whole creation only an empty sound
forevermore. Oh, God, how can
bear it ?"
"Is there no hope?" she asked with
a curious calmness, at which she her
self was greatly amazed.
"None, 1t was my errand to town
to-day to find out. | have felt it
coming on for months, but | hoped
against hope, and now know. o
Mary, to sit in the darkness until my
death day, starving for a sight Of
you Gear faces 1t is too bitter; and
yet what am [ saying? Shall my
Father not choose His own way to
bring me to the light of heaven?
must say, I will say, His will be done =
just then the children came run
ming in-boyi8h, romping Will; shy,
yet merry little May.
"Hush dears," the mother said soft
ly, papa is tired. You had better
run out again
NO, Mary, let them stay" Mr..
Spencer interposed, and then he said,
so low that his wife's ears just caught
the whisper, 81 cannot see them too
much in this little while-this little
while
0 how the days went on after that
Every day the world looked DINNER
to the minister's darkened eyes. He
spent almo: all his time trying to fix
things he loved in his memory.
1t was pitifuI to see him going
round over each well known, We'll
loved scene-noting anXiously just
how those tree boughs stood out
against the sky, or that hill climbed
towards thu sunset. He studied
every little flower, every fern the child
ren gathered; for all creation seemed
to take for him a new beauty and
worth. Most of all he studied the
dear home faces.
His wife grew used to the dim wist
iul eyes following her so constantly
but the children wondered why papa
liked so well to keep them in sight
why he did not read or study any
more.
There came a time at last-one
Sunday morning-when the brilliant
summer sunshine dawned for him in
vain.
@Is it bright day, dear?' he ask
ed, hearing his wife moving about
their room
"Very bright, William"
"Open the blinds, please, and let
the sunshine in at those east windows. .
Mary Spencer's heart stood still
within her, but she commanded her
voice, and answered, steadily:
"They are open, William-the
whole room is full Of light"
"Mary, | cannot see 1.-THE time
has come--I am alone in the dark
ness"
"Not alone, my DEAR" she cried in
a passion Of grief and pity, and ten
l derness.
Then she went and sat down beside
him on the bed, and drew his head tc
! her bosom, and comforted him, just
as she was wont to comfort her child
ren. After time her tender cares
ses, her soothing tones seemed to have
healed a little his bruised, tortured
| heart.
He lifted up his heart and kisset
her-his first kiss from out the dark
ness in which he must abide, and thel
HC oCH1 uCl ava tHIuh ONCl .
soul, standing face to face with al
t untried calamity, longs to be for
space alone with its God.
: Three hours after the church bell
: rang, and as usual the minister ant
: his wife walked out of their dwelling
e as usual, save that now he leaned uE
t on her arm. In that hour of seclusiol
t he had made up his mind what to dc
e They walked up the familiar way
Y and she left him at the foot Of the pul
pit stairs, and went back to her ow
/ pew in front.
a He CROPPED up the stairs, and the
rising in his place he spoke. to wor
v dering congregation:
}, Brethren, | stand before you a
e one on whom the Fathers hand ha
d fallen heavily. | am blind, | shal
e never see you again in this worlt
n Won NV obiIdrop Cor ,yhoCo Coulc / u