St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1881-04-22

nOIuef 5 Sau lace.
The boy whispers his prayers at her
knee. "GOd bless papa" And bring
him safe home tonight :" says Dolly
with little catch in her voice and
the child, looking up at her with his fa
theirs eyes, lisps out the petition after
her, and doesn't know why the tears
roll down her cheeks.
Down the staircase again and into
the drawingroOm, where the fire is
warm and bright and shaded lamps
cast a soft glow. But Dolly is too an1-
iOus tonight to sit in her own easy
chair and wait for Jack as she used to
do when he was hunting. Now she
stations herself behind the curtains, for
though she cannot see out very far into
the dim moonlight she could hear the
sound of his horses hoofs in the avenue.
| What is that 2 In the far distance a
horses football sounds on her ear-near-
er now and then nearer. Thank God
he has come home! And the blood
rushes back to her white cheeks be is
safe for tonight, at least, and Dolly
flies into the hall to meet him.
The horse trots past and she goes
back into the drawing-roOm again.
Jack has ridden round to the yard and
will be in directly. All the fear is for
gotten in the thought that in another
minute he will be with her safe by his
own tireside, and she makes up her
mind to be very bright and cheerful
this evening, and never to tell him how
| frightened and wretched she has been
all this long horrid day.
Poor Dolly! Poor little wife stand
ing on the hearthrug, in her pretty
white dress, a smile on her sweet
watchful face, a loving look in the
brown eyes turned so often toward the
door waiting for the moment when her
husband shall come in. The door
opens.
Jack :" she cries and springs for
ward with a glad cry of welcome.
1t is Martin, standing on the thresh-
hold, his face gray and leaden.
"The master has come | heard him
ride by moment ago. He will be in
directly. Why do you look like that,
Martin ?" For the old man is lifting
his trembling hands as if to push her
back.
"God keep him from harm" he gasps.
"But, oh, ma'am the horse has come
home without the master :" And then
he breaks down. "But maybe he's
only had fall, and hurt himself. The
police and all have gone to look"
There is no grief on the wife's face as
she listens. In one second all the Joy
had been stamped ont, but there is
something awful in the expression of
her eyes-a look that, thank God is
not often seen in wOman's face. All
the soft wOmanly beauty has given
place to this fierce strange woe. Then
the words fall from her lips like a wall:
''They have killed him Oh, my hus-
band ~
There is woe and weeping and desc
latiOn in Ballyhague lights flashing,
servants running about wildly, the wo-
men sobbing, the men with pale scared
faces all instinctively keeping out of
sight of the stricken wife, who, with a
face like death, gives her orders with
such awful calmness. She has no hope,
will listen to none. She knows as sure
ly as if he lay dead at her feet, that
her husband has been murdered-that
she will never hear his voice again
Never again, and she does not cry yet
| The fountains of her grief will have all
the rest of her life to weep themselves
dry.
Yet there surely must be some linger-
ing of a faint shadOwy hope in her
breast for, during the terrible hours
of tOrturing anxiety that follow, Dolly
moves softly about, getting all in read
mess, making preparations with her
own shaking hands. And oh, the pity
of it all, 10 see the poor wife turning
down the bedclOthes, and lighting the
candles on the dressing-table, to have
all ready If so be that Jack is brought
home not dead!
Only once does she break down; that
is when she passes into Jacks dressing
ing-roOm and sees his things hanging
before the fire in readiness for him, his
slippers warming on the hearthrug-the
slippers she worked with her own hands
in the happy days when she was first
married. At sight of these inanimate
things she breaks into tempest of tear
less sobs. "Jack Jack my darling !!
my darling - She is wild with fear
and grief. Poor Dolly ! in all the days
to come she can never have such hap
piness as the few short years of heI
welded life. And as she waits and lis
tens and watches, while every heart
beat is bringing the time nearer, she
does not know that what she is suffer
ing now, the almost unendurable sus-
pense, will, in the after days, seem as
nothing compared to that greater other
suffering that is to come.
Jack, riding slowly home in the creep
ing, lengthening shadows of the even
ing, little dreams that this is his last
day on earth He has had good sport,
and in the pleasures of the moment bad
almost forgotten his troubles; but now,
moving toward home with a friend, it
all comes back to him again, and he
talks it over with certain quiet vehe-
mence.
DR.. Ryan, jogging along beside him,
thanks his stars that he doesn't own a
rod of land-that he is in nOwise de-
pendent on the vagaries of a misguided
peasantry or misguiding agitators.
"Cheer up, Captain TrevOrw lie says
heartily. "All this will blow over when
some strong measures are taken"
81 hope So" Jack rejOins. "This is
my road, and L must get on now, or the
wife will be anxious SO, goodnight,
Doctor"
"Good-night !" and DIR. Ryan is the
last man who sees Jack Trevor alive.
All unconscious of danger, he i,
riding home at "A trot, for the horse i.
tired after the long run, and Jack goes
slowly on the grass near the hedge,
smoking cigar and thinking of many
. things. He thinks of the run to-day,
of the friends he met, of Dolly, and at
thought of her he mends his pace Il
little and pushes on. The twilight has