Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1871-12-29

JEALOUSY VS.. INDUSTRY.

red-edged white apron up and down in
| the clear water.
''lt's slave life, anyhow. l wouldn't
have believed it before 1 married. To be
sure there's baby" she turned and looked
yearningly upon the wicker cradle, over
whose top was thrown quaint lace veil,
yellow with age, wrought long ago by the
| fingers of her great grandmother.
The face underneath, dimpled, exquisite
in coloring, was beautiful enough to have
| satisfied any mothers heart
The woman's pale lips Just curved with
| a smile, but instantaneously her face took
on its old gloom.
'Shes girl " she muttered. "Only
girl, and John don't like girls, at least ba-
bes;" and her lip curled again. '.He can
go over to Bessie Bright's, though, and
stay by the hour"
The last frock was rinsed and wrung
| out. Hannah Wells stretched the line,
! and pulled the knots with an angry jerk.
"lIe might, at least, have done this for
| me. " she said, as she went moodily to and
fro What to her was the glorious sun
shine, pouring its living, gold over the
| short thick grass, in which her feet sank
SO softly, as she pinned the snow white
garments to the long lines, and then lifted
them with forked sticks into the upper
air, where they futtered, and were kissed
into dryness and fragrance by the sun and
| wind.
Its miserable dogs life that's what
| it is, and I've mind to get rid Of 1t alto
gether.''
This was what she said, going back in
to the large, pleasant kitchen, and look
| ing about her with glance of indifference.
Then she turned and went hurriedly up
stairs, still with that vague, undecided
| look. In her room the sunshine poured,
and the old, familiar furniture glistened
on every side. Plump pillows, square
and snowy, filed the lower part Of the
| window, laid there for airing. The pref
| ty, light quilts she had made long ago,
rested on chairs and all things bore an
impression of taste and cleanliness, though
| the usual mornings work had been left
| till now.
Hannah walked with pre-occupied
glance, and hesitating footsteps to the bu-
reau, and began listlessly opening the
drawers, one after another. and as listless-
| iy shutting them again. 1t was plainly to
be seen that some great grief marked its
agony upon her face. 1t was no ordina-
ry suffering that had turned lips so white
and eyes so stony.
box, and from that she took small vial,
| lingering it nervously, holding it up to the
light Her eyes kindled with strange
fire, as she shook it and toyed with it, and
then let the sunshine through its dull
crimson.
Suddenly she stopped, and in the strong
light looked at herself in the glass. A
long, persistent, unhappy glance it was,
| that took in every line every touch OF de-
facing time, every sign of frost upon the
| rich, brown hair.
For Hannah had been beautiful. In all
the country round she had been noted for
her rare loveliness, and that was only ten
years before.
"She need not have married poor man,
| the village gossips said. ':but oh, she was
willful girl, and John Wells, though he
was dreamer, was Us handsome as Han
nah-but then, it was pity, you know"
And so there was much shaking of heads
over Hannah, for people said, after time,
when the children came, and her seat was
vacant at church. and she grew careless
in her dress, that Hannah Wells was not
happy woman.
Hannah, as said before, looked long
and haggardly at herself.
| "You have lost your beauty, madam"
she said at last, with manner that would
have been ludicrous, but for the bitterness
of voice and gesture.
"You are only the ghost of Hannah
May, that was. Your eyes are dim; the
color has died out of your lips, and left
them like ashes; the very bones of your
cheeks are visible. Is that the reason you
are slighted and neglected. Even my own
boy says:
'Oh mamma, you're not as pretty as
Bessie Bright" no wonder, when they see
where father spends his time. will be q
bye-word for the village gossips no long
er," she cried passionately; Il will die
will die ~
The terrible force with which she pro-
nOunced these words seemed to take all
| 4t-~ .>.Y-.s,et- - s,t.v oaun, pnul-
ing and trembling, on the chair beside her.
There was glow enough on her cheeks
now, but it was the glow of an almost in
sane anger Presently it died out, and
left her whittier than ever.
She took the little vial, and pressed
her lips together as she placed it in her
bosom.
Il will set my house in order, first" she
said, with laugh that sounded more like
a moan, and rising, she made the bed, put
to rights the inner room, where her two
bright, rosy boys slept, and then went
down stairs.
The woman's eye burned with steady
light as she moved to and fro. putting the
finishing touches upon her labor, SO me-
chanieally performed. Once, when she
looked in II box that her husband had care
lessly left on the mantle-piece, her whole
face famed up again; she went quietly to
the stove and lifted one of the covers from
the waninU fire beneath took the box
down, and Just in the act of pouring its
contents into it, paused.
'He made that box for me before we
were married. she murmured, and he
loved me then; l won't destroy it, but oh!
how hate all those models with which he
has fooled away his time. They seem to
me like so many demons eating up our
substance. By-and-by the house will 60;
but never mind" and She laughed harshly,
CONTINUED ON FOURTH PAGE.J