Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1876-01-08
concludsd from s,ys psre.l

all the morning her life, so~tiresome, sc
bare, had been confronting her. her nus
band had been unusually cold and sterr
TO her. too. Winnie looked up into hel
mothers despariag, passion-worked face
with innocent, frightened eyes. and sool
her pretty lips began TO quiver. Seeing
this. Mrs. Foster caught her to he
breast.
'.Oh. my darling, ii it were not for you
| would wish to die. Nobody loves M
but you. Nobody would care If did die
But you would miss me. wouldn't you, %.
precious?r
Papa wsnld cry too. said little Win
ME. with an effort at childish comfort
No, papa wouldn't care. Papa don
love me p cried the poor woman. burstin:
into tears; for she was unstrung by In
near approach of the terrible sickness o
which she was as yet unaware.
winnie loves mamma. Winnie viii
be a dood dirl all day, two--four--nin'
days
Had her scant knowledge Of arithmetic
enabled her to extend her promise to
longer date, it would most assuredly have
done so, so wrung and troubled was he
childish heart at the unusual spectacle o
her mothers tears.
Seeing the trouble on the baby face. anc
the grieved culver in the childish voice
Mrs. Foster made great effort to calm
herself. And soon the little cabin was as
quiet, 10 outward appearance. as II nc
gust of stormy passion had so lately sweep
through it.
Mrs. Foster braced her fainting form tc
90 on with her preparations tor dinner
and Winnie, soon as light-hearted as be-
fore, fitted about as usual.
Mr.. Foster was sitting on a bench, al
some distance from the cabin, looking al
some specimens Of ore one Of his men had
recently discovered. 1t was richer than
had ever been taken before from his
mines, and he was sitting. lost in golden
visions, with his sombrero drawn down
over his handsome, blonde face.
What 60 DOOM papa?'
So absorbed was Mr.. Foster in his gold.
en- dreamings that, as he was sorry to re-
member afterward, he did not respond to
her childish question. till after 1t was three
or four times repeated, and then he babe
her run away; he was busy" But little
Winnie had something upon her mind. and
was not to be put away.
Papa, mamma Is killing herselt.''
What is it ?'' This drew his attention
thoroughly. "What is it you say, child p
Mamma is killing herself, and she said
you wouldn't care. She said you didn't
love her; and then mamma cried. she did.
Don't 90 love her papa? She's a dood
mamma, fink"
What do you mean by her killing her.
selfp,
And then Winnie went on, with great
minuteness, to explain the rise and pro-
gress of the conversation.
Il said. Mamma, what 90 doom p
Mamma said. I'm killing myself, work
ing"
"Oh - cried Mr.. Foster, with a relieved
look. 1t was only a womanish, nervous
complaining. that was all. But little Win
ME went on -
That wasn't when she cried-when she
said she was killing herself She said you
wouldn't care If she did. Then she cried,
she did, awful hard, she cried; she said
you didn't love her. Don't 90 love her,
papa ?"
And little Winnie, who was constantly
asking questions of everybody, and
would, if possible, never give up her pur.
suit OF knowledge upon any subject, in her
eagerness to discover the truth Of this
most singular assertion of her mothers as
sertien, repeated the question, looking up
into his face with innocent, wondering
eyes.
Don't 90 love her. papa. my dood
mamma ?''
Love herr OF course. What ques.
ton. Run away now; am busy
And he turned away once more to ex.
anime his golden treasure, and delight in
it, But, somehow, after the little form
had fitted away, as he had hidden it, he
couldn't help. letting his mind wander
from the golden treasure In his hands to
the words of the golden-haired little
preacher. who had so lately spoken to
him ''Love his wife," The words had
come glibly enough to his lips. when he
was speaking to little Winnie. "Of course
he loved her! What question! Wasn't
she his wife-his lawful wife The idea
Of his love for her being called in ques-
ton he church member; he who read
the Bible every Sunday, and who had al
ways kept his heart from wandering after
strange idols. Love his wife! What an
idea But he couldn't quiet his conscience
that had been his servant. careless SER
want, too, sleeping at post, it woke up
now, and was his master; a more relent-
less and memorable master. because it had
so long slumbered, and was now arisen, a
king indeed.
In what way had he shown his love for
her, for years past? We're frowns. and
Indifference, and cold, harsh words, the
language OF love? Was it In that way he
had won her from all other suitors, in the
spring time of their lives !?
That sweet girl wife, so fair. so dear. so
blooming. ''Her good mamma" Yes,
she had been good mother to the child,
good wife TO him. Memories of her I'M
selfish. patient devotion. her life given for
him, rushed upon him like wave-a
wave. that long held back by icy barriers,
rushes on more overwhelmingly, relent-
lessly. There could not be more COM
plete abnegation of self than had been
hers, all through their married life Her
life had been given for his as truly as ii
she had laid it down for his sake on some
battle field. 1t was not an easy thing for
him to stand thus. face to face, with con-
science, with these remorseful memories,
these new anguished thoughts of the pa
tient love he had so long sighted. But
he had made home for lher. So he said
TO himself; he had supported her, fed and