The Placer herald., 1870-11-26


among his books and papers. Once, at the
very first, she had taken her crochet work to
the door, and asked to be leY in; but he had
answered by denial.
"Man's work, he had said, sententious-
ly, "is too great to be broken in upon by
womans chat, or woman's fidgetting;" and
she had retired quietly.
She never tapped at those panes again,
nor did she ever hint at any wish for recrea-
tion--at any desire to enjoy play or a con-
cert; even al the natural wish for MOON
light walk. The inferior creature had some
pride in her composition. No more would
she woo her husband than she would have
wooed him when his bachelor fancy first Sc
lected her 10 be his future housekeeper. A
proud woman would rather miss attention
altogether, even from the one to whom she
s married, than ever seem to ask for it.
Men will not believe it, but many a wo-
man has died of such life as lilly led. The
case was not so bad with lilly as it seemed,
however. Under sll his abstraction and
coldness and critical superiority lurked a
tenderness that Stephen would have been
ashamed to express. His neglect arose from
absorption in his pursuits, rather than any
repugnance to his wife's society. And he
did not provide her with amusements be-
cause he firmly believed that woman could
be thoroughly satisfied with sewing and fam
cy work, and for this reason he gave her
no praises, not recognizing her toll as a labor
of love, but as an employment as delightful
to her as his profession was to him. And
the fact that he never praised her beauty was
due to his theorizing also. Woman, the
vain, weak animal, must be strictly guided,
lest she should 60 astray, and always lovers
talk had disgusted rather than pleased him,
and he had vowed never to yield to any
weakness whatever. And SO he called her
Mrs Appleton and she dared not call him
Stephen, and when sometimes his long arms
would fain have encircled her and drawn her
to his bosom, he refrained for shame Of fol-
ly, and she was too proud and too deeply
panied to touch his shoulder unasked.
One day he caught her reading certain
love poems, and took the volume from her
hand, pleasantly enough, for he was seldom
rude, with all his coldness, and furled the
pages over.
"'Woman wrote this" lie said. PRAISES
of woman's face! Yeamings for her pres
ence! Why, man should be allsufficent
for himself-love that these poets set such
value on. think that you had best not
read this thing, child; it is FULL of folly"
Then he tossed the book upon the table
the treasured volume over which her girls
eyes had gloated before ever she had met
this husband of hers, saying: "Would that
some man would feel thus to me!' believing
that there was love-life before her in the
ecstatic future. He went up into his study
and labratory, where some strange metallic
compound was filling the house with its
fumes, and where for days he had been toll
ing for the purpose Of completing an inven-
ton Of which he had dreamt long, long
while-some things as dear to him as ever
the philosophers stone could have been to
any old alchemist. lilly took the book from
the table and walked toward the bright fire
with it. She rent the pages, full of her own
girlish pencil marks, from top to bottom,
and heaped them on the red Goals.
"Rest there, rhymed lies, that deluded
mel" she said. fercely. "There is no such
thing as love. You Knocked me with the
falsehood. believe it no longer. Burn,
worthless jingles, that mean nothing. Would
that had never been fooled by you!'
And tongues of fame. yellow, red and
blue, licked about the paper, anb Kissed and
cracked over the shriveling lantern cover.
lilly watched the work Of destruction, and
had seen the flames die out, and the red
train Of sparks children call going to church
travel over the crisp tinder and drop off Of
it, with the big "parson" and "clerk" fol-
lowing after, when cry that she never for
got smote her cara something indescribable
rumbled and shook in the house, suddenly
full Of dust and hot metallic odor; and rush
ing, by sort Of instinct, to her husbands
study, she found him lying among the debris
of his apparatus, senseless, motionless,
disfgured thing, that could neither speak to
nor look at her. An explosion had taken
place, and tie inventor was the VICTIM
AT the sight of him lying there dead, as
she feared utterly undone, at least, as she
doubted not-all Tilly's love returned. She
took the disfgured face to her bosom, as she
had never dared to take it before. She
kissed that face from which any one
else would have shrunk with loathing, and
knew the poet had not lied, but that love
was the one real thing in this mad dream Of
life, and that once born, it died not.
"Tell me what can do for him." she
said, after those who came to her aid had
done their best. "Let me work for him, or
shall die9 There is nothing ! am not
strong enough to accomplish, if only he is
better for it,"
And there was work enough before her,
as she found-work she had never dreamt of
before.
Three months from that day Stephen Ap-
pleton opened his eyes, and saw nothing;
groped about with his thin hands, and felt a
little, warm girls hand creep into them, and
said: "Tilly, is it you? What has hap
pened to me?"
Then, in moment he remembered.
"There was an explosion ?" he said.
She replied, eyes"