Centre Democrat. [volume] (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1848-1989, 1880-09-30
A MOTHERS SACRIFICE.

A fire burned in the low crate, but the
little light it gave revealed all the grace of
Mrs. Wingfeld's slight form in its close
fitting robes of black. Tonight, for
the first time in her two years of widow
hood, she laid off the widows cap.
which had for so long served to conceal
the thick auburn braids so artistically
coiled about the small head. Perhaps
for this same reason she had dismissed
the butler when he entered according
to custom to light lamps, or perhaps
because the slow ticking of the clock
upon the mantel revealed to her suffi-
GENTLY the lapse of time without COM
pelling her to distinguish the hands
upon the face of the dial drawing nearer
and nearer the hour whose close ap-
proach dissipated the calmness she
vainly strove to gain.
Eighteen years had passed since she
and Arthur Mainwaring had met. They
had been lovers in that far-off time, but
he was poor then, with no whisper in
the air of the rich inheritance to which
he afterward fell heir, just too late for it
to bring happiness 10 either. Not that
they cared for wealth, either of them,
but then there were older, wiser minds
to Judge for both, and 50, each vowing
eternal vows, they were torn apart.
Six short months later she married
Edward Wingfield. He was, fortunately,
not man to look for love and sentiment
in his young wife-only wifely duty aud
obedience. In these she never failed
him, and after his death the world found
proof of his esteem in the fact that TO
his widow reverted all his fortune, un-
trammeled by single reservation.
She had married very young. She
was but thirty-five now. Would he
find her changed, she wondered-he for
whose coming she waited here today
Simultaneously with the thought
came the sound of carriage wheels and
horses hoofs on the graveled walk. She
started to her feet, pressing both hands
upon her fast-beating heart. Only that
morning she had received the telegram
announcing Arthur Mainwaring's COM
ing, and alrea dy he was here. She was
glad, oh, so glad, that the room was
dark, when she heard the quick, firm
thread she had sometimes heard in her
dreams during these long years of duti-
full living; so glad that he could not see
the quick blush, which put her matron-
hood to shame, when the door was
fhrnxxytt haatflu ond Hhwaa
swift strides brought him to her side.
BarbaraI"
Oh, how his voice still thrilled her
half with pleasure, half. with painl
His tall form lowered far above her,
as in the olden time; but he Iheld close
in his own firm, tender grasp, her two
listle trembling hands.
"Are you glad to see meP" he ques-
toned. She strove to answer, but her
lips quivered, and no words came.
Barbara" he said then again. and
he bowed his handsome head lower.
is 1t too soon to speakP"
"Oh, Arthur" she answered. "can
yet atoneP"
And then the bridge of years was
swept away, and she sobbed out her
happiness upon his heart.
LET me see you," he said, at last.
have not yet seen the face for which
have hungered all these years."
He struck a light, then turned and
looked at her.
my darlingr' he said. "It is still
my beautiful Barbara. What have
done to deserve this hourp"
Mamma, where are youP" called out
a fresh, girlish voice at this instant.
The next moment q young girl Of
scarce seventeen summers sprang into
the room.
"This is my daughter, Arthur-my
only child. Dora, let me present you TO
one of your mothers Oldest friends"
The gentleman indicated looked from
one to the other--from the mother TO
the daughter-then back again. Now
he could realize the lapse Of time-now
ne could appreciate the changes years
had wrought. It was as though he had