The Plymouth Democrat. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1869-1941, 1870-01-27

| But dinner was ready, and he turned
back into the dark entry; and, being
| feather headed young fellow, forgot the
whole matter speedily.
The pistol was not charged Bender
stopped at shop on the way up the street,
and loaded it carefully. 1t was nearly
dark when he reached his own steps.
Mary opened the door before he could
touch it. She wore yet her silk dress and
her pretty collar of fine lace; her hair
was curled about her face; her cheeks
were pink and hot; her liquid eyes bril-
| liant with new fire. He saw it all.
| What was it that Morris had said about
their hunger for a repetition of the old
love-making days: She put up her mouth
to be kissed, as usual, and when he passed
her, hurried in after him, taking his hand.
Poor old papa! He's tired Go in,
Jackey; don't worry father now"
So skilled in deception already! She
was leading him into the dining-room,
where supper was spread but he put her
quietly aside and passed up to his own
room. She followed him. You are
wOrn-out Why did you stay in the
works all day?" coming behind him and
putting her white hands on his shoulder
as he sat staring into the fire. When he
on her breast and kissed his lips.
That kiss set fire to the smoldering mad
ness within the man but he was always
quiet and grave He looked her steadily
| in the eyes. How beautiful the face was
that bent over him. Some dainty Ariel
of spirit looked out of it which he had
| never conquered or owned. He saw that
clearly now.
She turned away from him at last, and
| busted herself about the rOom-went down
and brought him cup of tea. The farce
| of playing the wife over, she became alb
sent, as was usual with her now; her
thoughts far Off He took out the roll of
notes and laid them down on the mantel-
shelf
"There is the mOrtgage-mOney.
"Yes." She did not brighten and flush
as she would once have done. He remem-
bered how often she had taken out her
pencil and counted up these savings i'll
triumphant sum, drawing little frame
work of vines about it, and presenting it
to him with her Joyous little chuckle. She
scarcely glanced at the money now. But
he would try her further.
al cannot use it for the mortgage.
Stouch refuses to pay the back salary"
"Then the mortgage will be fOrcclosed
Tomorrow And you will lose your homer"
She came suddenly close to him, her face
colOrless, her dark eyes wet and full of
pity. Not love. He was not deceived.
No wonder she had some little compass
sion for the man in whose bosom she had
lain years, on this night when she meant
to fly from him. "Poor old Sam"
"The loss of the house matters little to
us now!"
"Why. thought your heart was bound
up in it." She paused suddenly-a keen
suspicion flashing into her face. "What
else have you lost?"
For moment there was silence, the
husband and wife looking steadily at each
other, the oil lamp burning with unccr-
tain yellow flashes between them. Il do
not know" he said at last, in as quiet
tone as though replying to an ordinary
question, "what there is left to me. There
is nothing On Gods earth that | can call
my own"
She did not answer by word but
stood mOti0nless, with the same penetrat-
ing, doubtful look fixed on him. Now,
Mary was not naturally reticent woman;
all her emotions bubbled straight to the
surface. She had been gay, giddy girl;
and now, when she was mother, she kept
the house alive with what her husband
censured as most unmatronly light
heartedness-singing, jesting, laughing
most of the time, and washing away any
trouble in shower of tears. Her immo-
bility now proved how deep his thrust had
wounded her.
you've nobody in the world! No
body! Not even me-" she said, slowly, at
last She turned to the window, putting
her hand, for support, on an old chair that
stood there. 1t was a worn and shabby
chair but she had nursed both of the
children in it; Jackey and little Jenny
Jenny, who was dead, who would never
lie on her breast again. Did she remem-
Der? She looked at it, and then at him
| for a moment; and then, without word,
turned away and left the room.
He knew that she would never enter it
again. 1t was strange how many of these
| intuitiOns, amounting to certainties, came
to him tonight He thought that pain,
in this great crisis of his life, had given
him spiritual clearncss of insight.
Another person might have suggested
that the devil helped him.
1t was only seven o'clock; there were
two hours yet to pass before the end. He
sat by the fire, pushing the poker between
the bars, looking around him. There was
nothing in the cheaply- furnished, pretty
| chamber that had not tonight a terrible
meaning for him. He remembered when
| or three weeks after Jack was born !;
and, lifting Mary out of bed, had placed
| her in it, and laid her baby in her arms.
Thet was only six years ago; yet he
thought tofhimselfthen as but boy What
perpetual frolic they made of life then ,
Hard at work and miserably poor but
joking away all WEAKNESS or want-full
of joy and content the world was; hHv
many friends they had then
He had learned since to see things diff
ferently. When he set his heart on pay
ing of that mortgage, it seemed to sud
denly open his eyes to the seriousness of
life. 1t affected his religion He began
to see faults in the old friends who were
in the habit of dropping IN every day,
| finding Mary's house SO pleasant; he be-
gan to fear his own and his wife's spirit
ual character would suffer from contact
with them. One by one he had driven
them of. AS he stinted and saved more
and more to gather this money, his ideas
of duty hardened. He had grown old and
grave, while Mary remained the same
cheerful, happy tempered girl.
Tonight, for the first time, a dull
doubt came to him whether he had not
been to blame-her perpetual good
humor, her eager interest in people about
her, her singing, her noisy romps with
Jaok-all had seemed giddy and trivial to
him he had rebuked her necessarily for
them. ut was a solemn thing to live !;
who could go dancing over graves ?" had
come to be a proverb with him. Could
he have driven her from him? Driven
her to a man whose temperament suited
her own?
He was standing before looking glass,
and he could not help comparing his own
commonplace, gloomy face, with its
stubby black beard, TO the gay, winning
countenance that had won her from him.
He put his hand up to hide the flce
| from himself