The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1879-02-28
Select Story.
A MOTHERS HEART.
BY T. s. ARTHUR
| Hearth and Home.l

wood, none knew or could know but herself
alone.
You are happy mother one had said to
her at the close of the ceremony when the
sweet young face of the bride was unveiled.
Happy in so good and lovely daughter,
and happy in her union with one so worthy
to possess her hand" How almost strange.
ly the words had sounded in her ears. Hap
pyl
1t was over. The windows had been
thrown open, the lights turned out and the
refreshments served, Then came hurried
change of attire orange blossoms and flmy
veil, aud spotless robes were laid aside for
the plain travelling dress. How swiftly it
all passed Swiftly as the changes in a
troubled dream. One strong clasp to the
maternal bosom one clinging embrace Of
the daughters arm; moments resting of
the brides cheek on the breast where it
might never lie as of old again, and then
| II
It's the way with them all, said one of
the guests, speaking with light indifference,
as he remarked on the mothers pale face
and wet eyes, out of which she had strven,
oh, so hard, to keep the grief and the tears.
Its the way with them all. Crying is a
part of the programme
| Il couldn't have worn face like that if
the bride had been my daughter, said an
other of the guests Men like George Cleve-
land are not picked up every day. But we
mothers are selfish, and it's great trial to
our children, whom we have loved and cared
for from babyhood- who are bone of
our bone and flesh of Our fesh-and to be
set aside as having no longer any property
in them, or right to claim the smallest SER
vice. To be second where we have always
been first. To have the love, which had,
once been all our own, divided, and the lar
ger share given to another. All me It's
sad enough when you come to look it right
in the face. But, ,then,its the old life lesson.
The one our mothers and our grandmothers
learned in the the years gone by, and the
one we shall have to learn when our time
comes
He is a handsome young fellow remark
ed third, speaking to his companion as he
walked away, But can't say that like
altogether, the expression of his mouth. It,
little too closely set, and has nothing Of
that womanly softness which is the sign of 9
kindly nature, and which you so often see
in men of nobleness and great strength OF
character. Everybody speaks well of him
as young man of good principles, and a:
one who is bound to make his way in the
world. But if l read his face Alright, he
lacks generous and tender spirit He viii
love his own, but he will be apt to love i
very selfshly. Poor Mrs. Fleetwood He
face, as | saw it after she had kissed Mari,
for the last time, and her child had turned
away from her to go with her husband
pictures
Yes, it was over. The day and the bou
to which Mrs. Fleetwood had looked for
ward for so many months with a failing hear
had come, had wrought its change in th
whole order of her own and her daughter
life. 1t had been happiness to give the bes
that was in her-love care, devotion-every
thing for the sake of her beloved child. Ant
in all the beautiful unfoldings of this pre-
cious human flower, its exquisite grace AM
perfection of its love had been all for her
But now, when beauty, grace and sweetnes
had gained their full perfection, anothe
hand had plucked her flower and carried
away.
Poor mother She couldn't help hersel
And she had tried and was still trying s
hard to get comfort out of the thought tina
Marie was going to be very happy happy
as she had been in the days of her own ear
ly welded life, the joy of which still live
in her heart as one of its most preciou
,, memories.
Our hands are not skilled enough to fol
. back the drspery and uncover her heart "
can only let you see it beating against tn
close investure under which she is trying
but in vain, to conceal its throbbing pulse.
dearest Mother" 80 the brief epistl
read. 1t was two days after Marie had gon
away. bedTcsl HuOtucI
ment to write you. I'm well and happy, :
happy George is hurrying me to go oil
J. with him, and can only give you line G
two. Goodbye and thousand kisses fro
your loving daughter.
MARIE"
Trembling hands and tear.6lled eyes mac
the letter hard to read Was the moth
happier after its receipt? Did it comfo
her? Was anything supplied to the achr
void in her heart We fear not. The
was no sweetness of honey in the hasti
1t scrawled letter and the bitterness of alo
as we'll. George is hurrying me to go o
pit with him, and can only give you line
two." All, more was hidden in that bri
sentence than Marie had thought, or 81
would never have let it drift from h
. pen, to be forgotten by herself almost
" soon as written. 1t came to the mother
the first sad confirmation of her fears. T
young husband meant that his possess
should be complete. That brief wedd
ceremony had severed the old bond, a
made obsolete the old relations. The daug
ter must now be lost in the wife. So S
read the sentence. and it lay upon her hei
= like great stone.
& Two weeks, and the wedding journey v
J over The brief letters which had col
from Marie we're full of loving words hast
written but in each expression of endr
: ment the mothers eyes saw something viii
y gave a dash of bitterness to the cup she v
Y. holding to her lips something which /,
lp- her that the new way into which Mari
Ire le feet had turned was already losing its p
me allel with her.
,re She might have known how it would
And, in truth, did know, for Mrs. FleetwC
ent was neither weak nor blind. But moth
love was the intense passion which had I
ed her life, and absorbed all her inter
=, That sometimes in the future a strOn