St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1881-03-12

cried out i'll her great agony: "Oh,
why did I not die upon that happy
wedding night? Why did l live
for this?'
Then for two long hours she
knelt besi le her pillow. struggling
with herself, struggling until ut last
ner own heart gave her the answer
We have already written down:
"Yes, you Call bear it. for though
he does not love you, you still love
him.
Then the poor wife tore into frag-
ments those passionate love letters
and that final one which seemed
nei death wound-the whole cruel
packet that had brought her ST.
much wue--and burned them
al the hearth, and vowed that while
she lived heI husband should never
xnuw that she had read them.
For he has not deceived me,
she said to herself. He has been
irue to me, honorable to me. That
lie has been soreiy wounded should
| no: make me hute him, and he shail
never know, il can Deip it, how 1
suffer. He Is always kInd-oh, God,
pity me!-always kind, that mus,
suffice Inc
AMI she met him, with her babe
IN her arms, as Calmly AS she parted
nom hun.
He u yer cav the great change
IN her. He never knew that FROM
That hour lite lost It's beauty for her;
tuat even the brightness of love ioI
.ier babe had taIiei, because sh,.
knew that its father had not loved
uer.
People called the Chesterfelds u
happy couple. Women envied her.
iur he seemed a model husband
She locked her skeleton careful.
ap, ami gave no one u peep ut it.
Years lew by. Two other babies
~uuk the place of the first baby.
ieorse Chesterfield grew rich. She
lad helped HIM to become 50 by
..usaiity and usefulness. AMI now
It was u pleasure to give her the
means of doing good among the
poor. Helen Chesterheld's carriage
vas ofteuer found waiting at the
;ioor of some wretched tenement
nuuse than those of her fashionable
friends. One day II woman in the
most wretched haunt into which she
carried her pure presence spoke tu
uer of another lying ill in the next
room.
She's been a lad, ma'am." she
said. "but Shes = come dowr dreadful.
| .hink you'd d. hei good"
And Helen Chesterfield followed
iler into Il room, where. upou a bed
.ay the wreck uf the luveliest woman
~ whom Helens eve had ever rest
ei-a blonde, with black eyes. and
whose golden hair swept over her
pillow down to the floor as she lay
"a creature with white hands and
snowy throat, but with ''lost"
stamped upon her features as thugh
1t had been written there.
She looked at de,en angrily.
"MoIe tracts ?" she asked IN q harsh,
ruined voice. lake them away
tmen. It's too late for them with
me-"
But Helen was not one of those
who satisfy starving wretchedness
M,tn mere wo. dis. What she said
Or did hardly matters. 1t WAS what
was most needed. No pha i a,c..l
pride made Ler shrlnk from con-
,act with a :a!len sister. There
Was f,od and wine and decent linen
N that poor room before many
hours passed; and she did not even
ask the womans name. It matter
Ell not who she was tu Helen. She
suffered-this was enough for char
lty.
So for days and days she minis
tered to this poor creature, VIII"
grew to yearn for her coming; who
prayed her to stay longer when she
came, but who often looked ut her
IN strange way, quite unaccount-
able to Helen; who sometimes be-
gan tc speak and pause1 and said:
Another time, as though sne post
poned some conference.-the tue story
of her life, perhaps. Only God
know what it might be.
Su the uutum: wore away Win
ter came amt went; aud in the
spring the Little lite in that poo,
creatures breast WIS smouldering
out. 1t seemed right to tell her 81;