The New Orleans crescent. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1866-1869, 1868-06-28

ol en-, and suddenly, without word or gesture,
large, weather beaten, rough-looking man stood,
like an apparition, before rs. A. long. purple
scar, crossing his forehead and cheek, gave SIN
ister expression TO one eye. He stared at us. and
then gszed about the room for some time without |
speaking; at last he fastened his eyes on Mrs. /
Robinson. She crept behind me and whispered, /
" Please send him away, Miss Jeminna see how |
he stares! Dear, dear, what dreadful mani"
Whist DO you wish, SIR" inquired, boldly |
enough. think, although quaking internally, for
he had now transferred his eyes TO me.
Does Mrs. Mary Jane Robinson live here!n |
The harsh voice made us both start.
"Yes am Mrs. Robinson" said the little wo.
man, retresting further behind me. Suddenly | |
was seized, chair and all: and deposited in the
middle of the room the next moment the
stranger lifted Mrs. Robinson and gave her a
bear-like hug. the little woman struggling and
screaming with all her might. ran TO the door,
intending TO call for help. but the words,
Mary, my wife. don't you know me :" struck
me dumb. turned in amszement. He still held
her in his arms. She had ceased struggling, and
was looking at him with strange. wild shining
eyes. Was her mind shaken Had the shock
been too much for her
HLet her GO, you will kill her." cried, scarce
knowing what said.
He put her down gently, still holding her
hand She stood quite still and passive, as II
frozen, the two fixed, bright eyes staring from
her death white face. The man looked from
one 20 the other in a frightened way.
"Do you think I've frightened her out Of her
wits ~ be asked, in an uneasy whisper, as she
stood with her eyes rveted on his face. lion
81 dare say you have, )" blurted out, CURLY, as
| turned 10 Mrs. Robinson. MARY. my dear,
what is it 7" taking her passive hands In mine.
She made no motion, not even shifting her eyes.
Won't you speak to me, MaryW The eyes
turned on me, and slipping her hands from mine
she CROPPED in the air like blind person. IL was
terrible to see. Mary said, desperately, lit
is your husband come back to you"-anyihi0g, i
thought to rouse her-"won't you speak to
him.
YES" said MIR. Robinson. eagerly, 81 am your
husband don't you know me, Mary Amt you
glad to see me, my dear The tears stood IN his
eyes, and although they could not soften the look
OF the SCARED one, still | could see dina very
dim--hkeness to the picture over the mantel piece
and could no longer doubt his identity. Deep
lines seemed to grow in the little woman's face as
he spoke TO her. the very roundness appeared to
fall into sharp angles, such as long years OF sor
row had failed TO produce.
send him away: tell the man to go away.
Cannot he go awsy?n she said, piteously. ID
mo, my dear, said her husband, 81 have come
TO stay, and l thought you'd be glad to see me-
His rough voice uembed q little. g See, I've
carried your picture with me through thick and
thin. When we was shipwrecked, thought about
IL, and tied il up water proof, so that should
have that any way and all them long years when
Tom Bright and George Griffith and me used to
sit in our huts o. night, and talk over our wives
and homes, your picture used to look 80 hopeful
Eke-just ike you used to look them hrst two
.onths-I almost forgot l was a wrecked
sailor, thousands of miles away. Oh, Mary, the
long days and the dreary nights, and the weeks,
and the months and the years, all stretching out,
one after the otherl Yes, child, 1t was awful
dreary like and your picture got dim and blurred,
| and grew old and gray afore my time; and
| George, poor fellow he died of q queer kind of
| fever, and we buried him decent as we could IN.
| der the big palm just above the hut Then Tom
and led rough kind of life We got sava Selike,
AID didn't seem 10 care much about anything"
There he paused and looked at Mary, sitting
| motionless. /" / thought sometimes, if | ever did
get back, il would be kind o. hard for you to get
| used to me and my ways. and I'd feel awkward
] with decent folks. IL was nigh on to twenty
years, ] think, before We was found; but |
| thought may be you'd be kind o. glad to see me,
any way" And the poor fellow broke down, and
| looked wistfully at his wife.
But the little woman's mind seemed quite gone.
| She did not answer him a word, aud had again
| fallen into that fixed, unnatural stare. | thought
might rouse her by calling her thoughts back to
| daily things. MARY dear" said, {" Mr.. Robin
son must be hungry after his journey; won't you
| get him some supper!" O..
She left the room without word, moving me-
chanically, like one in dream. Half an hour
| passed, during which Robinson had given me a
sketch of his ehipwreck. IL was the old story
the same, with variations, that De Foe aud Tenny.
son and Adelaide Proctor have told. He and his
two companions had been washed on an island,
rich in beautiful vegetation, but infinitely dresry
in it's solitude through the long, long years Of
watching TO which the castaways were doomed.
| He told me how hope had almost died out, when
one morning, at sunrise. they saw ship steering
for the island, slgDaled her, and were taken on
board. She was the Zephyr, bound for New
York and in a little more than two months she
brought them home.
When Robinson had finished his story, l went
out to see what had become of his wife. She was
in the pantry, standing before Willie's cup, and
the blessed tears were streaming down her face
! As soon as she saw me she fell on my neck, sob
bing cOnvulsively:
Must give him wile's cupl No lips have
| touched il since he went away. How can | give
| il 10 that NAM" let her cry until she was ex
hsusted then raised her gently and carried bel
| to bed.
"Lie there fifteen minutes, dear; by that tint
| shall have supper ready"
She obeyed as a little child might When
went TO her she was white and still, and her lid
closed. Alarmed, called her hastily by name
and she raised her eyes TO mine. There was still
the same fixed glitter in them. lifted her from
the bed, and arranged her dress; she was quit
| passive under my hands. on IA
It was a dreary supper, and a more drearl
evening. But at last il came TO an end.
lay half the night turning restlessly on M
lounge. The moonlight poured across the room
in broad stream. Willie's picture looked dow
, on me with an uneaTthy expression; Willie
arm chair took weird forms in the dim light.
| thought over the rapid succession OF events
| until my head grew dizzy with thinking. The
| the reproaehful eyes of the young Willie scenes
staring at me from the dark corners of the room
and mingled with his youthful traits came th
rough features and sinister eye of the adult Robin
/ | son. Through this chaos Of faces Mary's can
MP, Just as bad seen her when she stood at tn
/. door of her room bidding me good night, he
. eyes large with terror, and her hands stretche
out to me for help-for help, alas which HOY
4 could give her? For what he not her husband
Z And is il not 10 her husband that woman mus
cleave2 ..--.
V Suddenly my heart stood still. The little We
2 man herself crept noiselessly from the bedroom
. her face looking horribly wan in the moonlight
Y crossed the paIlOr and knelt in the accustome
. | spot. Her hands were raised above her head
q | her upturned face was cOnvulsed with an sgon
a OF appeal; but, for time, no words came fro
e her lips. She sank prostrats on the floor. "Ol
I my God" 81 last she mosnei willie has goI
:. | from heaven have lost him! On, where
!, heP' Then she gided back as silently as che hs
come, but the bitter moan sounded in my ears Il
?, | long night through.
4 Ibe next morning she wore the same ston
a 1 face. ] stayed with her three weeks, and the
e | returned to my own home, which had, mea
z | while, been thoroughly renovated. could sit
r peace before my replace now, without fear {
y storms or risks of draughts. i could sit in peaC