Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1874-01-23
A WIDOW INDEED.
BY ELLA W. THOMPSON.

/ AM not going to deny at my time OF
life, and in this age of the world, that
women are changeable. 1t has come TO
be one of the fixed facts that no one wastes
argument upon; nearly all women ac-
knowledge 1t at once, as l do; but what
we do contend for, with one voice, is, that
we never change without good reason.
When my friend Isabel Deane suddenly
sank from pinnacle of proud and happy
wifehood into desolate and heart broken
widow, it was change quite proper, and
to be expected, that she should turn her
face to the wall, and refuse to be com
forted for many days.
John Deane had been her lover, as well
as her husband, as long as he lived, and
all the world quoted them as model of
married happiness. His death was sud.
den, and all the more overwhelming to
the wife who had lain so serenely on his
strength that she had never need TO put
out her own.
am an old maid myself, but / can
dimly imagine what it might be to lean
ones heart and soul on a good man for
many years, till ones bones were all bent
that way, and then how long it might take,
when the support was snatched away, to
grope lamely about the world till one
could learn to stand upright again. / of
fered Isabel no consolation, because
knew of monet just sat down with her
and her children day after day. When
she gave long wistful looks at the Dor
trait of her husband which hung always
before her, made her look at the baby's
smile; but Wien / saw her needle go hard
through her work for falling tears, / could
only let the baby go, and cry with her.
As week dragged after week, Isabel be-
gan TO take up the stitches she had dropped
in mother-love, and the real strength that
was in her, hitherto dormant sprahg up
full-armed for her children. She had been
wounded well-nigh unto death, but halfa-
dozen soft little hands did much to soothe
and stroke away the pain.
Isabel will come round at last She
must have some idol, and, since the big
one is broken, she will set up three little
ones in its place, and the worship will
go on in her temple all the same," | said
to friend whom was visiting for week,
when Mr.. Deane had been dead about three
months. | had liked John Deane very
well myself. IfIsabel must marry at all, /,
which seemed strangely necessary TO her
happiness, as il does to many other wo.
men, rather preferred to have any one
else as her husband. He was wholly de-
voted to her, which was no more than she
deserved, and for man he was very little
in the way. Nevertheless, l returned to
her with a certain inward comfort in the
thought that she would be more than
ever my friend, when she had fairly set
tied into the new groove that widowhood
would make for her. To my blank sur.
prise and CONSERVATION, found her urg-
ing forward all possible preparations to
90 abroad with her children for an indefi-
mite time.
Her eyes were hard and cold as if she
had no more tears left, and the corners of
her mouth were sharply drawn as of one
in the fixed habit of enduring pain with.
out mentioning it. Her manner had a
brisk abruptness that / had never noticed
before. The household habits, which had
had become little demoralized by the
presence of sorrow, had suddenly straight
cned into the utmost order. The servants
eyed me curiously to see if / noticed the
change, and made many furtive attempts
TO talk about it. l could not have been
more bewildered if soft, pink baby had
suddenly hardened under my hand into
one of those grim old statues that keep
guard over Egyptian tombs. She did not
seem to manage ii, but / could never see
her alone, and she carefully ignored my
hints at the change in her.
Her beauty had always been warmed
and heightened by happiness she needed
sweet excitements 10 keep flush in her
naturally pale cheek, and dewy brightness
in her large grey eyes. When the sun is
saying good night to the peaks of the
Jungfrau, she colors like blush rose !;
but when the sun is gone she turns pale
and grey, and is nothing but cold rock
after all. This was precisely the change
in Isabel Deane. Her face was like a
transparent picture, softly glowing when
the light of happiness was behind it,
but without that light it was no picture
at all.
She had let her house on a long lease,
and all of her affairs were as carefully
settled as if she were going out of the
world.
"You behave as if you had received
sentence Of everlasting exile" l said TO
her on her last day, when she could no
longer escape me.
II hope it may be So" she replied,
looking straight at the wall ~ have suf.
fered so much here, that, but for the
children's interest, should be glad to see
this house burned to the ground"
looked at the wall, too, and perceived
that Mr.. Deane's portrait had been re
moved.
"You will take it with you, of course )
l said, by way of making talk.
"Oh, no; 1t would be troublesome
package. have sent it to Mr.. Deane's
sister; she always admired and wanted it.
Had grief turned the woman TO stOnei
/ took her chin In my hands, and made
her look at me, while entreated her with
tears to tell me what blight had fallen on
her
Don't you remember the day when
John sent home that portrait TO surprise
you ON your birthday, and you went ON
your knees to il with delight, as if il had
been an altari You were distracted with
joy that day" e~I