The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1877-10-26

Then the hand which held the letter out
| stretched itself
The stream Of stc4nl beat against the
| flap of the envelope.
In moment or so it hung loose, limp
| and wet in her hands.
an go and put my bonnet away" she
said, in an unnatural sort of tone, and hur-
ried up stairs.
"Pm his mother" she said again, as she
| sat down in her chair, and drew the letter
from the envelope MS right | should
know"
Then she cast her eyes over the writing.
"There was not much of it.
Just this:
DEAR james, know, after my conduct,
it is my place to write first | was naugh-
ty. Please forgive me- Isn't that humble
enough And if you do, come and take
me to the picnic tomorrow.
Your own, NELLIE"
ct is from that girl" said Mrs. Wads-
r-,Sth, "It's from her. And things have
gone so far and he hasn't told his mother
word. Oh, how hard it is to bear. That
girl don't want Jim To marry; but of all
girls that one"
And she rocked herself to and fro.
"Thercs been quarrel" she said at
last, sand she's written this to make up
If he never got it he'd never speak l
know his pride. She comes Of poor lot.
| hate her; she's bad wife for jim. |
think it's my duty not to give it to him.
I'll think it over.
Then she opened the drawer of her bu-
rcau, in which she kept valuables or money,
and thrust the letter in and locked it up.
She had time to think the matter over
before Jim came in, for he was late, and
"that girl" grew more distasteful to her
every moment.
"Going to the picnic, Jim ?" she asked,
as they sat over their tea.
And Jim anrwered that he had not
thought of it.
"rd go, if was you, and take your
cousin Miranda" said the old lady. "She
expects it, think"
Jim, only moved by the remembrance of
Nellie Barlow, and wish to make her
jealous, agreed to the proposition.
He took Miranda to the picnic next day,
and Nellie was there, and saw them to.
gether; and remembering her note, written
in a moment of softness, when the wish to
recall certain angry words she had said to
jim, was strong upon her, she grew sick
with shame.
She had held out her hand in reconclia-
ton, and he had not taken it.
Could anything make woman more in
dignant ?
After that she had never even looked at
him.
Old Mrs. Wadsworth, having kept Jim's
letter a few days, felt that too much eX-
PLANTATION would be necessary were she to
give it to him after so long delay.
Besides, it would be well for her son
that he should not see it.
He would, of course, marry his cousin
Miranda-only good cousin-a girl she
liked, and who would never set herself up
above her mother-in-law, girl who did
not, like poor Nellie, look aggravatingly
stylish.
But Jim did not marry Miranda.
No one will ever know now whether
Miranda would have accepted him or not.
After while she married Mr.. Wiseman,
who was better off than Jim, and old
enough to be his father.
And Nellie, too, married.
While her heart burnt with resentment
against her old lover she chose new one,
dark, moody, silent sort of man, who
carried her away to the city, whence there
came rumors now and then that she was
not happy-that her husband led wild
life.
Once some one declared that he was a
very mailman in his jealousy, and locked
her in room at times.
But no one knew whether it was true or
not.
Her parents would never say anything
about her.
As for James Wadsworth, he had gone
to church to see her married, and had gone
home with headache.
The next day he was delrious.
A brain fever had set in, and the doctors
shook their heads over him.
What he said in his delirium only his
mother understood, but if she could have
undone the deed that she had done, she
would have thanked Heaven.
For weeks he lay at deaths door, and
then a pale shadow crept about the house
the wreck of bright, handsome James
Wadsworth.
His beauty was gone, and no one felt
quite sure about his mind.
He answered sensibly enough when he
was spoken to, but voluntarily he never
spoke.
After awhile he felt strong enough to do
farm work, and did what his mother sug-
gested, and she grew used to his altered
ways.
And so matters rested when, ten years
from her wedding day, Nellie came back
to her fathers home in widows cap.
And the people of Kornhill learnt that
her husband was dead and began to Won
der whether he bad left her money.
jim, blowing in the adjoining field, saw
her as she sat upon the old homestead
porch, and stood for moment staring at
her.
Then he left his pillow in the furrow, his
horses standing where they were, and went
home.
His mother saw him coming.
He tramped over the beds of vegetables
| and trcd down the young corn.
He sought no path.
AS the bee flies, he sought the doorway
at which his mother stood staring at him,
and walked into the kitchen past her with.
out look.
"Jim, my boy, what is it ?" asked the
old lady.
He made no answer, but went to his
room and straight to bed. For hours he
never spoke to her. Then he began to
| babble; he uttered Nellie's name; he re
preached her with constancy-called her
tender names in one breath, and cursed hel
| in the next
Then he gave one wild cry and sprang
up in his bed and dropped back again
with his eyes staring toward heaven.
He was dead.
The mother knew that before they told
her so. The next day coffin stood in the
low ceiled parlor, and in it lay pale statue
with closed eyes, all that was left of james
| WadsWortl