The Northern Pacific farmer. [volume] (Wadena, Minn.) 1878-1885, 1881-08-18
BERlNICE.'

gloomy, freezing cold, wistful, anxious
look on her white face. Putting her thin
childish hand to her mouth, she called
"Bennie! Bennie"
Presently there came an answer:
Yes, am comm mother!'
And simultaneously with the answer, 6
sturdy little figure appeared upon the sum.
NIT of an ICY knoll.
"Ah. Bennie! I have been so anxious
and you are so cold!'
usual. But only see the faggots; they're
as clear aud rich as butter!" and the sturdy
little figure advanced, drawing after him a
small sled heaped with pine knots.
The woman's wan, moonlight face lit up
to absolute radiance; and a tenderness
that was touching. beamed from her great,
blue gray eyes, as they rested on the boy
a stalwart, sturdy little fellow, robed anu
wrapped like an Esquimaux, with white
hair, and an honest, manly face. Ben
Chudleigh's own boy!
When they had crossed the threshold,
she kissed him, parting the faxen locks
on his brow. The lad blushed like girl
at her caress, and then fell to unloadin g
his sled, and heaping the fire with fag-
gots.
There, now, mother" he said, as the
ruddy blaze shot up the broad chimney,
isn't that nice? Now you shall sit down
and get real warm, and I'll make the tea;
I'm such strong fellow never get tired. :"
Benny threw on fresh fagg OTIS, and got
out his illuminated primer to amuse him
self, while his mother did her sewing: but
somehow the bright pictures failed in their
usual Interest. His ears were full of the sea- 8
wild sobbing, and his blue eyes-bold, kind
eyes, SO like his fathers wandered furtive-
ly to his mothers face.
A lovely face, fair and refined; a face
that, in it's early bloom, when all it's rare
colors were unfaded, and all that super
abundant gold-brown hair was in it's glory,
must have been wondrously beautiful.
But now ali! SO indescribably sad, so full
Of an undying rennorse.
The lads eyes filed with childhood's
quick tears as he watched her, and his face
grew solemn with vague, doubtful Won
der.
Mother" he said at last, just the least
culver in his voice, mother, was it all
right between you and father when he went
away2 I've wanted to know so long"
The mother looked up, startled and
amazed; swift, burning red shot up into
her white cheeks. and then she let her
head drop forward on the sewing stand and
burst into passionate sobbing. The child
grew pale with fright and pain.
"Oh, mother! POOR, dear mother!' he
whispered. going to her side, ana dropping
kisses and caressing touches on her bowed
head. Il am so sorry! I didn't think it
would hurt you SOL
She drew him to her bosom in silence,
and still sobbing. His childish questions
had cut her heart like knife. WAS it all
right with her and father when he went
away?' All, no! it was all wrong; and now,
God pity her! it was too late ever to make
it right clsuel wrong must live through
all time, and eternity, perhaps
How wildly, sitting there in the CHASTITY
glimmer of the freight, did she remember
that last parting, three weary years ago!
father, who had followed the sea all his
life, was starting on a long voyage. He
wanted paper of some importance. "a prom
issory note, or something of the kind, and
came to his wife for it.
Berenice, his pretty girl-wife, had taken
care of all his papers and all his money
since the first day of their happy marriage,
he being great, careless, loving, frey
hearted fellow, as sailors usually are. But
Berenice was quite busy that morning get
ting his outfit in readiness; and the March
winds clustered down the cottage chimney,
and pulled the smoke and ashes about. and
put her out of humor; and, perhaps, for all
her sweet child ways and rare beauty, this
petted wife of Ben. Chudleigh was bit
Impatient and quick temrered by nature,
or because Of too much petting and indulg-
ence, as is oftener the case. At any rate,
clared that it could not be found and that
it had not been intrusted to her keeping.
Ben. opened his handsome blue eyes in
amaZement.
why ,Berenice,' he said, not bit cross,
only decidedly, you know I gave it to you.
I always give you things wish taken care
Of"
"A foolish habit, too, "retorted Berenice,
spitefully. why not take care of them
yourself? And you may hereafter, won't
have my desk crowded with any such rub
bish," and making good her words, she
tossed the papers she had been overlook
ing on the floor.
Ben looked down at the promiscuous
heap. There we're receipts and business
papers, and amid them, old love letters and
tufts of faded blossoms, that had passed
between him and Berenice in the days Of
their courtship.
why, Berry," he began, and then find
ing his voice unsteady, he stopped short
and turned away.
His wife saw in an instant what she had
done, but with the perversity of child,
instead of trying to make reparation. as
her woman's heart yearned to do, she made
matters worse.
Il shan't look another bit," she said,
Petuantly, pushing the papers aside with
her pretty foot. 1--WE wasted half the
morning already. You bother me SO, I
wish you were gone"
I'm going now, then, Bernice. Good
BY"
He did not even turn to look at her, but
strobe from the room and out into the
yard, Bonnie was playing before the door
way, and Bernice standing breathless, heard
him kiss the child, and say:
"Good-by, little one! Be good boy to
mother, don't forget"
That was the last. When, after mo-
ment of stunned bewilderment, she hurried
to to the door, he was gone.
But he would come back. All day long
sitting with Bennie on her knee, she said it
over and over, he would come back, and
they would make it up.
But night came, and the dusk of the
March sunset, sailor came up for her
husbands sea-chest. Berenice was too
pAV~A w esoA q HuOotAOA VI oCAu a uCoodSC,
but the long lonely night subdued her
pride. AS soon as the sun rose, she made
her way down to the pier, where his vessel
lay, but it was too late-the craft had sailed
at day break, and her husband had gone.
Month followed month, year drifted after
year, and Berenice lived, and Benny grew
up sturdy lad, never forgetting his fathers
parting command. He was good boy to
his mother; but all his simple, unaffected
devotion, SO like his fathers, could not
drive the unspeakable sorrow from her
heart. And now she sat there by tho blaz-
ing fire, with her thin hands clasped, and
a wistful, hungry look in her great, shining
eyes, that poor little Ben felt awed and
frightened, and crept away to his bed in
the corner, not daring even to see her agian.
But the child could not sleep. He lay
listening to the voice Of the winds, as they
reared and whistled through the pine hills
and to the ceaseless moan and thunder Of
the sea, raising his head ever and anon t.
look at his mothers white, sad face, and
wondering in his heart, if God and hi
&,.1 n.