Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1878-12-28
NO.. 2.

meaning Vi NHdt lau passed. so swiftly. L
had an impulse of tumultuous JOY when l
remembered his glance and its powerful
meaning. TO this folly succeeded tortures
OF lost self-respect; for whatever he had
unwittingly betrayed. it was | who had
forced him into it. Then, too, it was the
most humilating discovery that what had
reioiced in as grateful devotion and reve-
rent friendship was suddenly degraded in
to selfish and absurd passion for man
to whom any ties of intimate affection were
forbidden. His resolute acceptance of the
pain and modification | had compelled
hlm to suffer, raised him so far above me
that my first belief that his heart had
answered mine in that long look was soon
rejected as wildly improbable and wholly
uniting his character. How could ever
see him again Yet how was | to be
saved from this wretched state of fluctua-
ting feeling unless he should direct me.
must now write down the pangs of hui
initiation which made me suffer keenv
for the two following weeks Nothing
broke for me times noiseless monotony.
DIR. Wilde no longer came He wrote,
indeed, kind note saying that he was
called away, but knew that he was simp-
ly trying to spare me Miss Dorothy's con-
lectures concerning his absence while he
gained time for me to triumph over my
folly. Out-of-doors all the Indian summer
glories had faded the short days were full
ofwinds and low. trailing clouds The dried
leaves, astray like lost and restless souls
upon the earth, swirled and eddied past
my windows, trying to skim and cover in
to corners of rest which they could never
find. was all alone in the world again;
in the same state of mind which had suf-
fered from when after Babys death used
to sit at twilight and watch the black rip
pies of the sea take CLEAN from the
light-ship in the horizon which shone like
a setting star. felt again like Il child in
dark room; must have something to
cling to and trust or | should 90 mad.
Who is it, who knows what it means to be
all alone in the world. that will call my
state of mind altogether blamabe and
wrong? 1t is so cruel in this dependent
life of ours to have no one to speak TO- no
one to laugh at, and scold and tease. and
cling to. had thought for months that
was growing strong; that had brought
myself into state of steadfast reliance
upon the divine will, when all the time |
was but resting in the comfort the presence
of an earthly friend had given me. was
in chaos again. My old cry for my child
to look into my face. and plaintively de-
mand my love; if Baby Alice might once
more trill and coo, laugh and moan upon
my breast. should not have needed my
friend so much; might better have borne
this enforced desertion. Yet | was no
self-decever. | realized that this love
which had grown up in my mind for Dr.
Wilde was the most complete and satisfy
ing feeling of my life. had had ample
opportunity to recognize the meanings of
my heart; | had lived already tolerably
deep; had rushed into an early and fool
iSh marriage with man for whom after
the first three months of wedlock. | could
feel only the pitying tenderness of a restrain
inc mother instead of the faith and passion
of a wife whom | was obliged to in
f1uence. check, command even from whom
| soon knew could expect nothing which
should give me comfort Now | had
learned to look up to a man who was so
good that from the first | had never felt
his smile without sense of security and
peace whose words were noble and wise.
whose life pure, whose aims exalted
Early in December Miss Dorothy fell
sick and sent for DIR. Wilde. 1t was six
teen days since had seen him. when one
afternoon he came in at two o'clock, and
was shown up to Miss Dorothv's room.
When he came down an hour later was
sitting over the fire in the library without
a pretence of occupation. rose and mur-
INJURED greeting, then sank down again
and went on staring at the Goals. DR..
Wilde was quiet and composed and began
telling me about Miss Dorothy's cold,
which was much less dangerous than had
feared. She was certain to be better next
day. he added; then, as did not answer,
went on talking about the snow which the
night before had come down heavily.
Winter was setting in early, he remarked
finally; after that ensued pause
| had not yet looked at him; had only
noticed mechanically without inference,
that he carried a fresh pair of driving
gloves in his hands and | stupidity Won
dered why he had put by the others, which
were almost new. Presently l gained
courage to look up and meet his eyes.
''Have you been sick ?" cried, startled
by some change in his face.
"Sick Oh no. am never sick What
fault do you find with me ?' He smiled.
looked at him wistfully. Where was
the difference in him Something had
gone out of his eyes, s,-something from his
smile He was older; yes, that was il he
|
before. now any one would have called
him fifty at least.
when were YOU out-of-doors last ?'' he
asked breaking the fresh silence.
II forget" returned, starting up and
going to the window.
"Put on your things and walk to the lake
and back with me- said he. Your rub
ber boots. mind and your seal-skin jacket.
The air cuts like a knife ~
II do not feel like it." | returned. shiv-
ering.
He laughed good-humoredly. II am
your doctor and this is my prescription
said he. $50 this moment Don't keep
me long waiting
Twenty minutes later we set out, the
dogs frisking about us, the snow creaking
beneath our feet and the sharp wind in our
faces DIR. Wilde talked constantly with
out apparent reserve or embarrassment
until was reassured by his manner and
believed that in spite of all our old life
was to recommence and go on Just the
same What more did l ask hope or ex-
pect, than that he should be my friend and