The Indiana State sentinel., 1878-01-16

rage, and the brief courtship ended with
the simple country wedding In the
little chapel by the wayside. Her father
was very pale, very tremulous, as his
voice pronounced the binding words, and
the fading eyes were misty as he bent for
ward to lay upon her head his hands in
benediction. She was his all, his life, his
happiness, his support, and when her arms
were thrown around his neck he could only
whisper, "You are mine yet, Maggie; little
Maggie" 'Yes, father, not the less yours
because am Wits, too; you have gained
son, not lost daughter" This touched the
newly made husband, and he promised those
same promises that are ever given by the
happy at the marriage altar of mutual trust
and love, and he meant every word in its
fullest sense, and yet he did wish Maggie
would not cry so much when, an hour later,
he started towards the city with her. Poor
little bride; she did try to crush back the
sobs, but the tears would come, until she
was half sick with the sorrow and the ex-
element Never before had she been from,
never had she left the fathers protecting
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though she trusted and loved her husband,
yet she was very. very sad. Her new home
was elegant beyond anything she had ever
seen or known, but she felt lost in the hand
somely furnished apartments, and she would
creep off to some quiet spot to dream of the
little, humble, meagerly appointed place
that would ever be home as long
as her father dwelt within its
walls She would stretch out
her arms with hungry longing for the dear
old face, the halo of white hair above it, and
the soft lips that had so often pressed her
own. And yet she dare not tell Will of this.
She had seen that it provoked him, and she
was silent on the very themes that her heart
so sacredly guarded. She loved her husband
passionately, wildly, and so without regret
or murmur she tried in all things to please
him. She dropped her old manner as she
did her dresses that had seemed so grand to
her once, but that now were out of date and
style. She was very pretty, and for his sake,
whose every wish was to her law, she came
and went, she dressed and talked, she sang
and played, never weary, never upbraiding.
Society declared her beauty and rendered
her homage, and to please her husband she
became a queen in her social realm. But
she was still pure and unaffected, and she
could be nothing else, and all too plainly
for the requirements of society did she show
her love for Will, her great desire TO please
him, her utter indifference to all else, until
at last he chioed her for this, and bade her
be more reserved, less demonstrative. She
thing, but the sweet young face grew sad and
pale, and the lines about the proud, sensitive
mouth showed the pain and suffering his
careless words had caused.
When her babe was born the Joy and glad
ness came back to the mother, and she forgot
the past in the exceeding happiness of the
present. Her cup seemed full, and she
trembled lest any of the precious wine of
peace should be lost Will was tenderness
itself. He was proud of the little one, who
was so much like himself, and he petted the
pretty, dainty mother as he never had done
before. He wrote to her father of the new
treasure, and when the old man came he
rejoiced that his daughters life was crowned
with all the blessings that even his anxious
heart could ask for her, and when upon the
innocent little head he placed the baptismal
water it was with great thankfulness and
hope. He could see no shadow in the happy
home.
But Maggie was very fragile, and Will,
unused to the stiffness of the sickroom,
wearied of the feeble wailings of the child
and the nervousness of his wife. She tried
TO be so bright and pleasant when he came
home, but he talked little, yswned, made
some weak excuse and left her alone for
hours. Then remo-seful and ashamed, he
would go to her with apologies, but she was
too trusting to ask or even expect these, and
he was well satisfied that she did not require
explanations that would have been awk-
ward,
A few more weeks and the little baby's
life huttered out and the young mothers
heart was desolate and sad, and again Will
became her one idol. She held the little,
cold form to her breast, kissed the tiny face.
the pretty dimpled hands, and then they
carried her baby from her, and for days and
weeks she lived a blank, unconscious ex-
istence, that had no semblance of life but
the weak, irregular breathing. She could
not cry out, but in the night time she would
moan for the little one, the lost bud that had
been 50 soon plucked from her loving clasp.
She tried to be brave for her husbands sake.
but it was hard, and when again she went
about the house she was only ghost of tie
bright rosy checked girl of two years before.
She had no desire for festivities-in fact, no
strength; and too unselfsh in her affec-
ton to ask any sacrifice of time or pleasure,
she saw her husband leave her night after
night without blaming him. She would
grow weary and lonely, and too weak to
resist the sad memories she would weep for
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