The Ottawa free trader. [volume] (Ottawa, Ill.) 1843-1916, 1868-04-25

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heart cold and still The clock-a wedding pres
emit from her fathcr-ticked gaily on, ana chimet
the quarters three times UNDECIDED by her befor,
the garden gate creaked, and her father, will
slow, reluctant step, passed up the gravel path
She stood still, merely turning her pale face anG
dreamy eyes on him az he entered the room
The tears stood in his a. he put his arm gentl,
around her, and the hand that took her cold on,
trembled violently.
"Agnes, my poor child" he said, in broker
tones. Il can give you no hope Tho bodies arc
not all recovered yet; but he is not among the
wounded or safe; and he was seen to enter the
train some minutes before it started. Heaven
help you, my child! It is fearful, fearful blow
Agnes spoke not-a shudder ran through her
whole frame-and she raised her head and shook
it, as if trying to shake off some bewildering
weight. Her eyes were dry, though the tears fell
last from her fathers; and she turned her gaze
once more on the gate, as if expecting somebody
else to come. Alas, poor young wife was she
looking for that dreadful procession that was to
come-the shutter. with its CHASTITY burden, so
stiff and still beneath the sheet or cloak that hid
it from the public gazeY
1t was long before her father could get her to
quit that dreadful post Of silent watching; but
when she at length threw herself on the sofa
with wild cries of agony, it was still more ter
rible to see that white, despairing face, as she
raised it, tear-stained and convulsed, to her faith
ers saying through the choking sobs, "and we
parted in anger"
Oh, careless words, so lightly spoken what
agonizng fruit were they bearing now F! Poor Ag.
mes they could not induce her to go to bed
through that long, weary night
"Oh no, !" she ssbbed. II must stay up
till--oh Edmund Edmund !" and the shudder-
ing pause spoke more plainly than any words
could speak.
But few such nights come to any woman and
thank God, in his mercy, such agony can last
but one night in lifetime The arrow may re-
main in the wounded heart year after year, but
the fearful thrill of its entrance can come but
once.
The dull, gray light broke at last. The rising
sun tinged the soft gray clouds with rose and
amber; the little birds twittered gaily and bithe-
ly once more among the dcw-spangled trees, and
Life proceeded on It's accustomed way, taking no
heed of that weary widowed young heart-that
future robbed of every hope! M& EK
Agnes threw up tie window that the fresh
morning breeze might cool her aching, burning
brow, and leant out to gaze with heavy, swollen
eyes on the lovely scene before her, though all
unconscious OF its loneliness Her father, worn
out with sitting up hour after hour, in vain en-
deavOrs to soothe her wild agony of grief, lay
sleeping heavily on the sofa. his wrinkled face
looking more wrinklsd, and his grey hair greyer
in the clear light of the early morning.
Oppressed by the dull stupor that follows ex-
cessive weeping, Agnes stood leaning against the
wiadaw, listening to the whistle of the passing
laborer, the clang-clang of the gardeners
sharpening scythe, as he moved the lawn, uncon-
sciou- that his master was mangled corpse and
his mistress widow, for he had left his work be-
fore the sad report had reached the servants
ears.
The distant rear of an approaching train struck
on her ears, and Agnes shivered at the terrible
sound, and, covering down on the stone step of
the window-sill, buried her face in her hands to
shut out sight and sound, and all that reminded
her OF the terrible grief that had come on her
young life. She so far succeeded, that she heard
nothing of an approaching step on the gravel, bat
sat on, buried in her bitter thoughts, till the
sound of her name in a well-known voice made
her spring to her feet with wild cry, and in an
other moment she wasin her husbands arms!
my own Agnes-my darling what does
this mean y he asked, in bewildered surprise,
which was certainly not diminished by her ex-
cited answer:
"Oh Edmund, Edmund " she cried, .'they
said yea were killed Edmund-my husband
"Who did when" asked the astonished
young man !; but he could gain answer, till
reused from his sleep by his daugh
leI u cdINc loTWdTu anu dshSu NOW lac HSu
escaped the smash of yesterday express.
Because / never was in it," he replied odd
not Agnes get my note y -,v ~. ,.v,
mo, Agnes got no note,' replied her father
and one of the passengers told me he had seen
you enter the train some minutes before it start
cd. You were in one of the first carriages, he
said, and they wera smashed, and nearly all the
passengers killed.
"That is quite true" replied Edmund, with a
grave face "but before the train started / re-
,eved a telegram to say my father was worse,
and to beg me to come to him Immediately. |
wrote line on the leaf of my pocket-book, to tell
agnes what had happened, and gave it to poor
Southey, who was sitting by my side. begging
aim to let Agnes have it at once; but suppose
he poor fellow was killed. then went to my
athcr, who died at 2 o'clock this morning; and
rs soon as | could get away / came home. So my
Door little wife has passed night of widowhood
md misery Agnes, have you no word for me
low l have returned Z"
Agnes raised her pale, tear-stained face to his
with look of tremulous Joy, too deep for words,
ooh Edmund it made it SO trebly
Dreadful to think we had parted in anger"