The Worthington advance., 1881-08-18

yourself, And you NAV hersa afte1, i Won't
have my desk crowded With any such rub
bish, " and making god her word, she
tossed the papers shs bad besn overlook.
ing on the dbor.
Ben looked down at the prom .enon. !,
heap. There were receipts and busines.
papers, and aunid thsm, old love letters and
tufts of faded blossoms, that had naasedI
between him and Berenice In the dsya of
their courtship.
.Why, Berry" he began, aad then md
ing his voice unsteady. he stopped short
and turned away. .s=ss@ =5s5
His wife saw in IN instant what she had
done, but with the perversity Of child,
instead Of trying 70 make reparstion, 40
her woman's heart yearned to do, she made
matters worse.
4 shan't look another Bit" ahe said,
petuantly, pushing the papers aside with
her pretty foot. eve wasted half the
morning already. You bother me 20. I
wish you were gone."
I'm going now, then, Bernioe. Good
BY" -. -. .-.....=s...:... i, .....
He did not even turn to look at her. but
strobe from the room and out into the
yard, Bennie was playing before the door
way, aud Bernice standing breathless. heard
him kiss the child, and say:
"Good-by, little one! Be good boy to
mother, don't forget. .t..@
That was the last. When, after I mo-
ment Of stunned bewilderment, she hurried
to to the door, he WAS gone.
But he would come back. All day long
sitting with Bonnie on her knee, she said if
over and over, he would come back, and
they would make 1t up.
But night came, and the dusk Of the
March sunset, . sailor came up Tor her
husbands sea.chest. Berenice was too
proud to ask question OF send Z message;
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 1t was too late-the craft had sailed
at day break, aud her husband had gone.
Month followed month, year drifted.sfter
year, and Berenice lived, and Benny grew
up sturdy lad, never forgetting his father g
his mother: but all his simple, unaffected
devotion, SO like his fathers, coald not
drive the unspeakable SORROW from her
| heart. And now she sat there by the blaz.
ing fire, with her thin hands clasped, and
| 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 agiah.
But the child could not sleep. He Law
listening to the voice Of tho winds, as thew
roared and whistled through the pine hills,
and to the ceaseless moan and thunder Of
the sea, missing his head ever and anon to
look at his mothers white, sad face, and
wondering in his heart, if God and his
angels were SO good and merciful, why they
did not do something to comfort her, A
strange terrible feeling came over him, an
indiscribable prescience Of some ething to
come.
~Mother!" he called. gently, sitting up in
his bed. AOh, mother! what is it? Icant
tell: but I feel something; indeed I do
But she did not heed him. The old sea-
dog lifted his pointed ears, and listened in
tently; then he arose, and pattered across
to the child's bed, with look half human
in his eyes. Bennie laid his cheek against
his shaggy head.
what is it, Triton?" he whispered.
The dog listened again, then be bounded
to the door, and began to search and sniff
beneath it.
"0b, motherl mother!" called Bennie in
RmazeI 1Il80C.
She arose with trembling hands and q
death white face.
why. my boy, my darling" she whis.
pered; then she went to tho door and
opened it.
Triton stood an instant with his eyes
erect and his nose to the ground, then he
| uttering short, exultant cries. 1mpelled by
something stronger than herself, or her
| own will, Beenice followed him. and poor.
| afrighted little Ben was left alone.
Out through the wild, dark night she
| went, down to the bleak, icy cliff, and
there, standing upon the desolate sands,
his black, hurley figure sharpely defined
against the pale, winter sky, she saw the
form of man, with Triton leaping and
barking aroutld him; and never stopping
to question or wonder, but impelled by q
| wild instinct; she flew on, and on, until
she fell breathless and senseless at his feet.
When she arose to life again she was in the
cottage, lying on Bennie's little bed, with
the glimmer of the freight before her, and
Bennie himself was hanging over her, pat
ting her checks with his chubby hands, and
kissing her vigorously with look they had
never known before.
Then wild vague hope thrilled through
her, and she started to her feet with q CRY
! that rung above the din Of the storm.
Yes. there he stood, bronzed and worn.
and unchanged, but with the same honest,
kindly eyes, Ben Cnudleigh, her own hus-
band. He held out his arms, but she went
down prostrated at his feet.
"Oh, Ben! Oh, my husband! my darling!
forgive MEL knsw that God has, because
he has given you back to me-"
And Ben, sobbing like woman, gathered
her up in his strong arms, kissing her lips
wildly, as she clung to him like child.