Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1871-07-22
NO. 172.

my going. almost hoped he would
blame me when told him what had
done. But he did neither.
II have thought of Bennie and of you, -
l said. But could not meet his eyes, for
mine would fill with tears. Try as /
might, could not blot out the picture of
John and Bennie here alone through all
the long winter evenings-of the lack Of
comfort, the possible contingencies of
sickness and death. -
But no; l would not think of it. was
called to higher sphere; I had answered
the voice. l had put my hand to the plow.
l would never look back.
There is Dolly" went on, In the
cold, hard tone of attempted composure
that sounds SO much like indifference.
she knows my ways. She is faithful,
and six weeks will soon pass" ssst
Oh how endless and dark they stretched
out before me, even as said the words!
do you really desire to go? There was
great pleading in Johns voice. / hard
ened my heart against it. A
| Yes" but the word struggled in nv
throat.
| because you know you need not
and-wc shall miss you. Shall we not.
little man ?" He bent over Bennie, who
leaned against his knee.
She's gone away" affirmed Bennie, in
that slow, solemn tone peculiar to children,
and without looking at me.
"No;" said John, "but we shall be very
lonely if she does CO."
'She's gone away reiterated the child,
and he was right.
The applause still rang in my ears /
could hear the rustic and tread of the
crowd, the hum Of voices as it retreated.
l had read in the theatre of Western
city, and now in the green room awaited
the carriage that was to take me back to
the hotel. v5ae
1t was pretty tiring-room-fitted for
some star, doubtless-a1 white and gold,
with lilies upon the floor and hangings,
with lily cups upon the chandelier that lit
up the mirrors, where / could see repeat
ed again and again my weary face. A
soft white shawl, a meshed laee-like head
covering, pair of gloves. a bouquet
had thrown them all down beside me,
and lying back in the depths Of an arm
chair, waited. 4.a
"You are tired tonight, said the man
upon the divan opposite, as he consulted
his watch. >nt@t =
"Yes! More tired than l can tell,"I
answered, closing my eyes. He left me
moment. ..3 4ts
ut was stupid mistake of mine, Y he
said, when he returned II should have
ordered the carriage earlier"
Pray don't disturb yourself. 1t win
soon come, don't doubt"
''If could bring you any thing. Let
me see, there should be-Yes; there is
some wine here.'' He unlocked the cabi-
net as he spoke and took out decanter.
l shook my head. John and held queer
old-fashioned notions.
But insist, he said; ''you must take
it. You are ill.,"
He poured out the wine. drank it
down. 4s.saf--s .s.t-,.
"Strange that we should have methere
to-day" he said. .I'ye never once seen
you since-Dont mind; I forgave you
long ago. l kept your letter too-the
tendercst saying of a, no man ever had
for woman" fget
Pray don't speak of it. Why bring up
what has been forgotten ?' My face was
warm and conscious, l knew; though
tried to speak coldly Perhaps it was the
wine-it burned in all my veins. Perhaps
it was the flowers. How strong their per-
fume was -
why not? ought to have overcome
any pain had years ago. And you---yeu
never cared you know"
felt his eyes upon me; but l would
not open mine. 1t came to me like the
far-off stretching out of hands, that
ought to rise and go away; that it was
not good for me to be here. tried to
think of home. / tried to think of John.
from whom had heard nothing now.for
many days; but both were vague and in
distinct. Nothing was real or near to me
but the heavy perfume of the flowers and
the face of the man watching mine. He
had been walking the room as he spoke;
as he came near now he leaned over my
chair. He bent down and touched my
hair-the hair that John had stroked.
started to my feet. There came to me
at that moment such vision of my home,
such vision of my husband-not hand
some or fine in dress as this man; but
strong and true of soul! AS no woman
ever had before!
81 want to go home" l gathered up
the wraps lying at my side. The flowers
fell to the floor What were the sickeuing,
sweet things to me?
"And so you shall" he answered, in
light tone as he laid his hand on my shawl.
Il want to go home to John - and this
time did not fear to meet his eyes. His
hand fell from the shawl. Without word
he turned and led the way down the mar
row stairs to the street. The carriage
was waiting. 4a-1.
At midnight was on my way home.
With my face once set, l could have
flown, had wings been given me. Icould
not bear with the slow motion OF the train,
the slow drag Of time. SleepI could not.
Was it the wine that burned SO like fire
within mep that brought such strange fan
cies as the night wore away? clung to
the seat, laughing aloud. as we fairly
bounded over the road. could have
shouted my delight, as with face pressed
against the window-pane watched the
dizzy, spark-lit darkness rushing past
Through all the next day seemed TO
sleep and dream. Still we went on; ous
now had ceased to care. Some one
spoke to me. 1t was woman
faced and young. Bennies nscaIsa. 80