The Lake County star. [volume] (Chase, Mich.) 1873-current, 1874-04-23

heart began to grow sick with hop
deferred. Another hour, and thel
above the murmurOus music of tn
night she heard sharp step upon tn
gravel, and started to her feet flushet
and breathless; but the next instan
she fell back, pale with disappoint
ment, for the step was not his-sh,
knew that long before the person
came into sight. He advanced to
ward the porch where she sat, with /;
slow, uncertain step, observing which
and recognizing him as one of he
neighbors, she advanced to NEE
him.
"Mr. RuthfOrd, is it you? / an
looking for my husband. What dt
you think can have detained him !"
He stood still, his face full of 81
lent, unspeakable pity. Something
in its expression caught her quick
eye, and she sprang forward ant
grasped his arm.
"Mr. RuthfOrd, you bring me bad
tidings. Speak; don't keep me in
suspense"
Still the man besitated.
go, sir" she entreated, don't triflt
with my feelings. DO you know any
thing concerning my husband? L
you do, for mercy's sake speak out p
"Madame, / have heard-that is
there is bad news" he began, his
voice was husky and broken.
Her face grew white as death, but
her eyes was clear and calm, and her
hand strong as she grasped his arm.
"Sir, il you pity me, tell me the
worst at once. can bear it,"
"Well, madame, your husband and
party were waylaid and murdered by
the Indians"
"All? Did none escape" "'
"N0t one" ~ fI
she turned sharply, leaving him
without word, and he saw her enter
and close the door after her-and that
was the end. He would never come
back any more, no matter how pa
tiently she might wait and watch.-
He would never know that he had q
son, would never look upon the
little chubby face with its bold blue
eyes and sunny curls so like his own.
From hencefOrth her heart and home
were desolatc.
And this was the anniversary of
her wedding day. Six years ago and
she was q happy bride. Five years
she had been brOken-hearted widow.
Her boy slept in his little bed, and
she sat there, thinking, and gazing
out ut the low, leaden sky and the
Wind-tOssed trees.
The night was closing i'm rapidly
night of storm and darkness. The
rain came down in great smoking
sheets, and the wild, wailing winds
rushed round the gables and went
shrieking over the hills like human
souls in agony. Her heart ached with
tho desOlatiOn that seemed almost
insuppOrtable. life seemed so hard,
yet for the boys sake she must en-
dure and live on.
She looked down ut her sable gar
ments with hot binding tears. Six
years ago she was rObed i'm gems and
blossoms. His face, his very voice
seemed to come back to her, and she
fancied that his spirit must be near
her. No matter how high above her,
how happy, she knew that he loved
her still, and his glorified spirit may
have left home in bliss to keep with
her that sad anniversary-the fancy
consoled her beyond eXpression.-
She glanced over at the sleeping boy
with the hope that a father loved and
watched over him. Then a sudden
impulse shot across her mind; she
would not keep the anniversary of
her wedding-day in the garments of
widowhoOd; she would put on the
robe he loved. If he knew aught of
the poor, sad life, he should see how
sacredly she remembered and Observ-
ed his simplest wishes.
Stealing up to her chamber, she
took out the maave silk and the
dainty laces, grown yellow and time
worn, and the pretty jet and gold
ornaments, and arrayed herself as in
days gone by and the old bloom
came back to her cheeks, and the
brightness to her eyes; and she SEEM
ed to drop her years and her widow
hood, and to spring out afresh into
the rare beauty of her maidenhoOd.
Thus arrayed, she went down softly,
aud seated herself before the blazing
fire, her face fearful and expectant.
If his soul were near, and she clung
to the hope that it was as she clung
to life, he should sec how tendcrly
she remembered him.
The anniversary night wore on
wild and dark with the storm, and
still the poor wife, half-dazed by her
terrible sorrow, sat by her lonely
hearth-stone rObed in her festive gar
ment. At last there came step
without, a sharp impatient step on
the gravel, but she did not hear ii.
A weary, travel-wOrn man, bronzed
by exposure and pale with long-en-
dured grief, came up to the front en-
trance and passed beneath the low
window. Through the parted cur
tains shOne the ruddy fire-light, re-
vealing the warm, attractive room
the old familiar room, with his hat
upon the wall, and his books and
meerschaum on the mantel, unmOved
as he had left them, revealed the kit
ten purring on the rug, the little cur
tanned bed in the distance, and the
dear, sweet face, wet with tears, and
the dress he loved so in the happy
days that seemed too far back to the
poor wanderer to be real. Was that
the wife from whom he had been so
long parted, whose face had been with
him through all his lonely hours of
peril and Imprisonment? Was she
waiting and watching, and keeping
his home bright for his return?
He left the window, stole softly to
the side door. He raised the latch /;
It opened, and he stood upon the
threshold.
Intent upon her own musing, her
own sweet memories anu sad re-
Elections, Maud heard no sound. Hci
heart was far back with the husband
she had loved so well. Tho old dress
had revived old associates, and his
very presence, seemed round and
about her. She looked up with
clasped hands and streaming eyes.
go, Harryl q, my husband!" she
murmured, "if you knew how love
you, how / mourn your loss, surely
your soul might speak to mine, and
tevI -. =, xI,at xyosr oro ynaor v,,o ~