The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1878-11-01

y glance in the House and Senate
Chamber, and he was on the home
ard journey.
So many things passed through his
mind during the next few hours! His
early life, that had been ruled only by
his own will and arrant selfishness;
his ambition and determination
to win everything he undertook.
Then came the remembrance
of the meeting with Marion Thorn
ton, his cool assurance and subsequent
disappointment, the final success
which had become, worse than fail
ure, and, last of all, the home without
love. These memories mapped them
selves out 80 distinctly before his
mental vision, that the things of yes
terday became realities in the new
light of to-day.
Out Of his musings he was suddenly
aroused by crash, followed by con-
fused noise Of shrieks and cries; then
silence settled over him, and he re-
membered nothing more.
Mrs. Thondyke sat alone at her
sumptuous breakfast-table. The
cousin had not arrived, and she felt a
longing for her husband that was al
together new to her. This was the
first separation since their marriage,
and in looking over the year they had
passed together, she found that
she had not done all within her
power to make their home a
happy one. when he returned,
things should be different;;" it must
not be said of her that she had been
found wanting.
A servant entered, bringing the
morning mail; she took it from the
salver and listlessly ran over the let
ters addressed to her; then, taking up
the morning Herald, she glanced at
the headings.
What was it that caused the fair
face to grow pallid in the morning sun
light? What terrible calamity had
swept the peaceful look from the
eyes? Only this, found in the
columns of that pitiless newspaper:
awful disaster on the Philadelphia,
Washington and Baltimore Railroad.
Cars thrown from the track. Fifteen
killed; many mortally wounded"
Then followed list Of names,
prominent among which was that OF
"Hon. John Thorndyke.
She was young, and her burden was
very heavy, because she believed she
must bear it without hope of atone
ment.
For one moment only did Marion
Thorndyke remain where her grief
had met her, but in that moment she
held every nerve in her body un-
der control that must last until the
end.
Ringing a bell, she ordered her car
riage, gave few hurried directions to
her servants, then hastened to her
bedroom. Ten minutes later she re-
turned, carrying small traveling-bag
in her hand, and got into her car
riage, directing the coachman to drive
to the Philadelphia depot.
"Drive rapidly" she said. IT must
catch the 10 80 train"
Just as she stepped on board the
train, telegram was handed her.
She opened it in the same mechanical
manner in which she had done every
thing since the news Of her trouble
had come, and read: John is alive.
Come to our house. A. W. c."
ooh, God, be merciful! Let me get
there in timel'' she prayed.
AS the train moved out Of the depot,
she heard persons speaking Of the ac-
cident. She even heard her husbands s
name, but she only drew her veil
closer over her face, and looked out
of the window.
, "My dear Marion, there is yet
hope" Mrs. Churchill said, as she
stepped from the carriage. GLOW
terribly you look"
"Take me to him, Agnes" Mrs.
Thornkyke interrupted. "1t is my
: place to be with him now."
Was this John Thorndyke, lying on
. that bed, so white and still, the fore
head covered with bandages, and the
[ hair cut entirely on one side Of the
: head?"
, "Oh, my darling!" she sobbed
kneeling beside him, "you must not
die. I cannot live without you'll"
For one moment the eyes opened
and glad light came into them, but
: no word was spoken; and the doctor
: coming in, told Mrs. Thorndyke that
Y the least excitement might produce 8
: fatal result.
, Through three long weeks Marior
nursed her husband. She would have
no one else near, and the kind-heartet
= physician did not forbid it, believing
- that otherwise he would have two
!. patients instead of one. She had be
, come almost hopeless in the long, sac
- watching, but she grew strong in lovt
. and patience, and asked Of God not
!, to leave her desolate.
a One evening, as she sat beside him
!. knowing that life and death were