The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1881-05-31

MY, OHIO, TUES
The children have police armed at all
points to protect them when they are
(out even in the place. 1t makes me
very miserable, and the wretched Gov
Isrnment will do nothing. That dread
lful Land League held q meeting here
Hast Sunday, and We expect that some
lthing terrible will follow. Lam trying
| TO persuade Jack to leave the country,
but he says he won't be frightened
f'away; and in the meantime there is
nothing but ruin before US. We have
lgot no rents, and / see no prospects of
tgetting any, but do not care for that
III only mind the awful fear that is per-
tpetually before me that they will do
tAomething to Jack. I believe it Is a
Irregular system, and they have hired and
paid assassins. Is it not terrible to
think Off fhardly ever let Jack 60 out
without me, and l cannot tell you how
wretchedly / feel to-day, knowing that
he is in danger; and how long is this
dreadful state of affairs to last ? how
many more widows must be made be.
fore it is put stop to-?
So Dolly writes, her pen flying over
1.-THE paper and her thoughts with Jack
lin the hunting field. But the long weary
lday fades into darkness only too soon
lShe sees the crows flying home far ur
lin the quiet sky-sees the faint sunset
Idle ont in the west, and the blue, din
shadows creeping up fold after folds@
Dolly comes back with sigh from the
\ window, where with her face against the
lass she has been watching for Jack
herring out till it is too dark to see the
venue and the rows of ghostly trees
Under which he rode that morning. Shs
/ hn only see the reflection of her owr
bee now; and the leaping, Pickering fire.
light dancing up and down, so she comes
b from behind the curtains and sends
br the children.
1t is past 6 and still no papa! The
children have long ago gone up to The
Aursery, and Dolly sits alone by the fire
Fying not to be frightened, persuadine
herself that she is not bit anxious thai
Jack couldn't be home yet il there had
been anything like run. Yet all the
fime she feels sick with strange long
i1g, and her lips grow dry as she listens
60 every sound and starts at the slight.
est noise. She is horribly anxious, but
she will not allow it yet; and, by and
by, the dressing bell rings with sud
aenness that makes her jump, so strain
ID are her nerves with this watching an6
waiting, this awful dread that sooner oil
later something will befall her husband
| Oh God perhaps even now, while sht
e sitting by the fire, some hand may bt
taised against him7
b Jack wont like to find her low, 80 she
wipes away the falling tears and goes to
Dress for dinner. In the hall she meets
Martin, and the old tried, trusted ser.
vant looks as worried and anxious as
l6s mistress.
"The master not home yet, ma'am 2
AaNo, Martini" Dolly answers, witt
Hips that shake in spite Of themselves -
"But he didn't expect to be home unit
|late."
So she speaks, trying not to believe
that her heart is sick with fear; and
slowly passes up the stairs. Somehow,
she never runs up now with flying steps,
and old Martin looks after her and
shakes his head.
tsIt'll kill the MISTRESS" be says to
himself, aud waiting till turn in the
staircase hides her from view, he opens
the halltdoor carefully and looks out
but there is no sign of the master OF
Ballyhaghe, and after Watching and list
ening for minute or two he comes in
again.
The night draws on. He never comes
Dolly, with cheeks like snow, stands
in the nursery, aud watches the children ;
but she never smiles, as little Dorothy
splutters in her bath, growing and laugh
ing; the freight flashing on her rounded
limbs. Dolly has no stories for the
children tonight, and presently they
catch the infection of her mood and
grow grave and silent too-awed and
hushed when they see their mothers
sad face.
The boy whispers his prayers at her
knee "'God bless papa" "'And
bring him home safe to night!" says
Dolly with little catch in her voice
and the child. looking up at her with his
fathers 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
drawing-room, where the fire is warm
and bright and shaded lamps cast soft
glow. But Dolly is too anxious to
night to sit in her own easy chair and
wait for Jack as she used to do so often
when he was hunting. Now she sta.
ltions herself behind the curtains, fol
though she cannot see out very far into
the dim moonlight she could hear the
sound Of his horses hoofs in the ave-
nue.. What is that2 In the far distance
horses football sounds on her ear
nearer now and then nearer. Thank
God! he has come home! And the
blood rushes back to her white cheeks
he 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 forgotten
in the thought that in another minute
he will be with her safe by his own fire
side, 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 Dollyl Poor little wife! stand
ing on the hearthrug, in her pretty white
dress, smile on her sweet watchfu
face, a loving look in the brown eyes
t1rned 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 thres.
hold, his face gray and leaden.
"The master has come; I heard hin
ride by a moment ago. He will be ir
directly. Why do you look like that
| Martin ?" For the old man is lifting hil