The Manitowoc tribune. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1866-1878, 1877-03-15


there; he heard them climb the ladder
and patter about in the loft overhead.
then come down again, and the voice
not SO merry now-repeat her assurance
OF finding the truant, and sudden de-
sire entered his brain to spring upon her
and choke her. 1t would not be the first
time he had done such a deed, but her
perfect audacity seemed to pafa1yze him,
and again she passed him all unconscious.
He saw her pause in the doorway, dimly
outlined against the sky, and then disap-
pear down the path.
I" Eli she amt the pluckiest un ~ he
growled, as he crept from behind the
carriage. Hanged eff she amt ghost
or suthin." And, with this peculiar COM
ment ON Mrs. Cuthbert's bravery, he shook
himself and made his way out of the barn
with sidelong gait, as if he was used to
sinking in and out of places.
Mrs. CuthDert meanwhile sped on to
the house, her steps fastened by the idea
that her husband might be there-per-
haps he had slipped out of the barn
while she was up in the loft, or perhaps
he had not gone into the barn at all
Alas for her hopes The sitting groom
was empty, and just as she had left it.
Not despairing yet, she snatched up
the lamp, and determined to search the
house. From room to room she went,
| calling upon George, and looking into
every closet and behind and under every
article OF furniture, but not glimpse
Of her husband gladdened her eyes, and
at last she sat down by the baby's cradle
and burst into tears
ooh, how can he be SO cruel 2" she
sobbed, "and for such little thing.
He might have known I was only in fun;
but maybe he's only in fun himself, and
will come in soon.'
Cheered by this last reflection, she
trotted briskly down stairs, stirred the
fire into a blaze, and stood watching
it, too fidgety to settle to her sewing
again. The wood famed noisily, then
glowed a silent red, then crumbled and
fell, an untidy, dreary mass Of whitsned
ashes and dying embers, and still her
husband did not come.
The clock struck 9, and Mrs. Cuthbert
looked at it reproachfully, as if it was
the time-piece's fault that it was 30 late.
Where wac her husband? Perhaps he
was wandering about in the dark, unable
to find the house. Why hadn't she
thought of that before? She would put
a lamp in every room.
And in a few minutes lights were
twlnk11ng from all the windows. giving
the little cettase aaite a gay and festive
| air. Who could have guessed that a
lonely woman and sleeping child were
its sole occupants Not the dark figure
with the ugly face, doubled up under
| the lilac bushes that bordered The gtatel
path
As the hours wore on. another dark
figure joined the one of the ugly face.
and was greeted with an oath upon his
iazlness, and the information that ''some-
! thing was up, that the first chatice Was
"spiled." end they would have to clay
to while > and then both the dark fig
ures, with many a curse and shiver,
crouched together, biding their time.
Poor Mrs. Cuthbert, as the night crept
on, wan lered from window to window,
with the vague feeling that if she could
not see her husband frcm one, she might
from another Sometimes she stood at
the door, listening intently, and conjur-
ing every breath of wind into the longed-
for footsteps, her heart dying within her
at each fresh disappointment She i1iist
have walked miles in that small house
the baby waxed restless, and she was up
many times to replace the coverings that
the sturdy little legs had thrown off in
climbing the invisible mountain that
child is always ascending in his sleep.
The clock struck l. How like the
voice or fate it sounded It was not at
all the cheerful ting that, when the sun
was shining, had announced the dinner
hour that day.
A distant dog barked, and Mrs. Cuth-
bert went to the door: she had resumed
her sewing to keep herself from going
distracted, and she still clasped it in her
hand. What black, black night and
how cold the wind was Hark she was
certain she heard voices by the gate.
Yes, she did. Just then the baby began
to cry, and only stopping to call back,
"In moment, darling," she plunged
down the walk
All was silent; there was no one there
She stood with her hand upon the gate
few seconds, looking eagerly up the
road, and then walked slowly back to
the house.
AS the front door closed the lilac bush
by the gate quivered, and two dark fig
ures crawled from under it.
When Mrs. Cuthbert laid the baby in
his cradle, after singing him back to the
invisible mountains, the clock struck 2,
and Mrs. Cuthbert looked hopelessness
in the face.
George was never coming home she
decided. 1t was no use Watching he
was never coming home any more. Then,
as the next gust of wind sent twig rat
tling on the gravel, she was at the win
dow, straining her eyes as she had been
doing all the evening.
How strange every familiar object in
the house seemed the lights burned so
Whitley, and the sitting-room looked so
uncanny, with the tea-table spread, and
the hands of the clock marking the small