Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1871-06-30

Walter sat in corner of the sofa
near her, and their talk wandered back
to his fathers house, and the days when
they were children together. Her words
vivifed and glorified whatever they
touched and their past, warmed into
life by her breath, seemed as beautiful
as dream. The present palid before
it.
| withdrew to a table in far corner
of the room, and seemed to busy myself
with the last Scribner. Do not think
that they purposely overlooked me, or
ignored my presence. But they talked
of persons and things of which | knew
nothing, and so-foolishly, perhaps-I
glided away from them.
| stole softly out of the room and up
stairs to my chamber, while they were
wrapt in some dream Of Michael Ange-
10 or Raphael. Taking lamp,
walked straight to large mirror that
overhung my dressing-table. [ looked
old and worn and faded and that wo-
man down stairs, with her eloquent
words, her witching glances, her peer
less beauty, was weaving her old spells
about my husband, and Turing his heart
away from me. If | looked old then, |
must have been perfect Methuselah-
or whatever the feminine of that vener-
able name may be-before the first of
September. Miriam Delamater's pres
ence chafed and harrassed me beyond
measure. There was nothing in her
sayings or doings that | could delibe-
rately, and in the broad, clear light of
common sense, quarrel with She and
my husband met upon the frank, free
footing of old friends. Surely had no
right to find fault with that? And it
was not her fault that she was fairer,
calmer, stronger, and more selfpossessed
than |. She was not to blame that the
wondrous charm of her voice, her face,
her manner was so potent; or that her
grace, her quiet self-possession, her rare
conversational powers oppressed me
with vague, yet painful sense of in
feriority, and made me silent and con-
strained in her presence. 1t was only
that | was weak and childish, incapable
of sustaining myself, and of command
ing my husbands admiration. Thus |
reasoned with myself in the night
watches, and strove to be generous, if
not content.
But my heart rebelled. This guest of
ours, whether wilfully or not, did come
in between my husband and myself.
There were no more long confidential
talks for us in the still twilights; there
were no sweet, familiar words at noon
day there were no brisk rides or walks
in the breezy mornings. For wherever
we were, there was Miss Delamater;
and she was % born diplomat and be-
lieved in monopolies.
Then, too, was physically worn and
wretched. The addition of this one
member to my household added Won
derfully to my domestic cares and la
bors. Miriam Delamater had the art of
appearing exceedingly helpful-even Of
fciously so. do not doubt in the least
that Walter thought her a great assist
ance to me; and blessed her for her
sisterly aid and counsel. But the truth
was, she was utterly helpless when it
came to the practical, daily recurring
needs of life. To make bad matter
worse, she did not know this, and was
always volunteering lin Walters pres
ence, mind you) to do some stupendous
deed in the housekeeping or culinary
line; which, when once begun, Hannah
or were forced to finish. For my lady
was sure to become exhausted before
she had made an end to her beginnings,
while she claimed credit for having
done whatever she had undertaken.
During all these dreary weeks, Walter
was never unlxind or impatient to me.
But he could not understand matters.
He could not comprehend my "whims
and humors," as he called them and |
kept my own mouth closely sealed.
doubt if made myself very charming
in those days and suspect, now, that
he was as thorougly puzzled as man
ever was by his wife's demeanor. He
would come in fresh and vigorous from
his earnest, eager work, to find Miss
Delamater in the parlor ready to talk
to him-or with him-of books, of art,
of noted men she had met, of famous
places she had seen. She kept his
whole intellectual being in healthy ac-
ton. By and by little pale, spiritless
woman would come stealing in, and sit
silently in the shade.
Sometimes it was the little woman's
own fault that she was not brighter and
fresher.
One morning at the breakfast table
some allusion was made to Bryant's pO-
EN- to the fringed Gentian and Miss
Delamater remarked that she did not
know the flower.
What not know the fringed Gen
tan ?'' said Walter, turning round
quickly. "Well, l advise you to make
its acquaintance before you 60 flower
hunting again on the Alps and the APP
ennines.' will bring you blossom to-
night, if | can find one. 1t must be in
bloom by this time"
"No, thank you," she answered, care
lessly. 'If l see the flower at all l
want to see it in its native haunts. No
single blossom for me, if you please"
"Then what say you, Barbara? Let
us go up to the head of the lake this
afternoon, toward sunset, and we can
reap a harvest Of gentians. Meldon's
woods must be filled with them"
l did not particularly care to go; but
| had still enough common-sense re-
naming to know that the walk, and the
sweet, fresh evening air would do me
good. So we went, all three of us.
am not going to describe our walk
on the shores of that lovely lake, the
glorious sunset sky, the opaline CLEANS,
the tints of purple and rose, amethist
and amber, that. glorified cloud and
wavelet and mountain. Even my per-
turbed spirit felt that q it was good to be
there" We fingered SO long that when
we entered the woods the sun was slow
ly sinking-a globe of fire behind the
crest of Mount Victory.
The first frosts had come, and the
leaves were beginning to fall. But,