The Osceola times., 1880-07-17

tasted supper ana DaDy ana i went 10
the nursery TO wait and watch. How
the little thorn in my heart pierced and
ranked. Tom had broken his promise
and my unkindness was the cause!
Nothing else rang in my ears through the
long hours.
About two o'clock ! heard a noise
below and went to the window. There
was a man on the porch, l could see him
| in the dim light.
"Tom, is that your" / asked softly,
putting out my head.
"Yes; open the door, Lucy; quick, the
police al e after me-"
Ny heart sank. The police after him,
What could he have done? / ran down
swiftly and unlocked the door. But as |
did so two men, wearing Official badges,
stepped upon the porch, and one of
them laid his hands on Toms shoulder
and said
81 arrest you SIR"
"What for?" ! cried.
"For murder"
The floor seemed sliding underneath
my feet, but l caught at the door to
steady myself and looked at Tom. At
that instant the officer uncovered his
lantern, and oh, God! there was blood on
my husbands hands.
All the rest is blank When came
to myself again, was in my room, and
kind, compassionate faces were around
me- / asked for Tom. He was in prison
awaiting his trial. There had been a
quarrel at the tavern, and Tom had
struck his antagonist The man wasn't
dead, though they thought he was at
| first-but he was badly hurt about the
head. But if he recovered-well, it
would not go SO hard with Tom.
/ arose and went to the prison; but
they would not admit me. No one was
to see my husband until after the trial.
Another day crept by, night, and when
morning came | went down to the door
and opened it, with vague feeling of
expectation which always accompanies
severe Affections, and looked out. The
sun was rising grandly and brightly
over the black stone Jail. The frost
hung thick and sparkling over every
thing, even on the scrap of folded
paper which lay at my feet. stopped
and bicked it up idly, as we catch at a
straw or twig sometimes, without any
motive or power of volition. The sub
scription caught my eye; it was my own
life, it was my own name and my
husbands handwriting. tore it open
and read:
"DEAR LUCY--I have broken out of
| Jail and am going well, no matter
where. didn't strike Hastings with
an intention to kill him. was ntoxi-
Gated, an d it was more his fault than
mine; but he may due, and then-at any
| - ia for i for IN
| never was worthy of your love. Now
you can go back to your father, and for
get me and be happy. You will find the
bonds for that money i have in the
bank in the desk; it is enough to make
you and the child comfortable. Forgive
and forget me, Lucy. God bless you
you and the baby. Tom"
This was the end! this was the re-
ward my cross word had purchased for
me! Truly.truly, the wages of sin is
death. We shall not need one pang of
corporal punishment, one spark of real
fire, to perfect our torment If we are
lost. Conscience is all-sufiicient-re-
morse, that worm that never dies 1t is
not for me to talk about what suffered
in the days that followed that morning.
Words could not express it, save to one
who has passed through the same fur
mace of affliction. But lived, for sor-
row and death rarely walk in each
others steps, and nursed my baby, and
did the work my hands had to do.
did not 60 back to my father.
remained at Toms home and kept his
things all about me, even his cap hang
ing on the wall. Forgot him? Does love
ever forget?
Hastings did not die. He recovered
and made public statement. He was
more in fault than Tom was. Then he
put notice in all the papers, telling
Tom to come back; but he did not
come.
The winter passed away with long
long nights of bitter remorse, and ten
der recollections of the dear husband
whose strong arms had once been my
stay and support; the spring came-the
summer-another winter; three years
went by-crept by.
My child, Toms little baby, grew to
be fair little thing, with blue ewes and
golden halr and tongue that never
wearied of its childish prattling. All
day long she sat on the door step, where
the evening sunbeams slanted IN, lisp.
ing to her doll and listening, while
told her OF the father who would come
back to us some day. For surely he
would come. Most surely God's mercy
would vouchsafe some compensation
some pardon for such repentance as my
soul had poured forth.
The third spring was peculiar; some
how the far-off sky seemed to drop down
in nearer, bluer folds; the sun wore {
softer radience; the trees, the grass, the
flowers, a diviner, tenderer beauty.
rose every morning and looked out o.
my little window at the kindling beauties
of the morn, with feeling of strange
tremulous expectation. | seemed tC
feel the shadow of some great event thai
winged as light above me-one prayer
of my heart seemed about TO be an
swered.
One evening-oh, that evening!A May
sky, soft and blue, hung ov.r the green
blossoming earth; the turtle dove coocd
in the distant wood and the robin twit
tered to her young brood amid the
milky bloom of the orchard. Gods love
shone in the golden brightness of the
westward going sun. My child little
Effie, sat on the door step talking TO her
doll and watching the birds. All al
once she clapped her dimpled hands
and bounded TO her feet.
Nanny" she cried, gleefully, "pap-
py comin'-pappy comm; Ellie 60
meet"
The words stirred my heart to its
utmost depths; and dropping my work !
followed her out of the door. A man
was coming up the garden path-his