The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1881-04-20

Jack. Peering out until it is too darl
to see the avenues and the rows O
ghostly trees under which he rod
that morning. She can only sec tn
reflection of her own face now, ant
the flickering freight, so she come
in from behind the curtains ant
sends for the children.
1t is past 6 and still no papa! Th
children have long ago gone up t,
the nursery, and Dolly sits alone b,
the fire, trying not to be frightened
persuading herself that she is not
bit anxious, that Jack couldn't b,
home yet if there had been anythin,
line run. Yet all the time sh,
feels sick with strange longing
and her lips grow dry as she listens
to every sound and starts at th,
slightest noise. She is horribl,
anxious, but she will not allow i
yet; and, by and by, the dressing
bell rings with q suddenness thai
makes her jump, SO strained are hel
nerves with this watching and wait
ing, this awful dread tina; sooner OF
later something viii befall her hus.
band. Oh God perhaps even now
while she is sitting by the fire, some
hand may be raised against himl
Jack won't like to find her low
so she wipes away the falling tears
and goes to dress for dinner. In tho
hall she meets Martin, and the old
tried, trusted servant looks rs wor-
ried as his mistress.
The master not home yet
maam ?"
''No, Martini" Dolly answers
with lips that shake in spite Of
themselves. But he didn't expect
to be home till late"
so she speaks, trying not to be
lieve that her heart is sick with fear;
and slowly passes up the stairs.
Somehow she never runs up now
with flying steps, and Martin looks
after her and shakes his head.
"It'll kill the mistress" he says
TO hiluself, and, waiting till turn
in the staircase hides her from view
he opens the hall-door carefully he
looks out; but there is no sign OF
the master of Ballyhague, and after
watching and listening a minute he
comes in.
The night draws on. He never
comes
Dolly, with checks like snow,
stands in the nursery, and watches
the children but she never smiles,
as little Dorothy splutters in her
bath, growing and laughing; the
fire-light flashes on her rounded
limbs. Dolly has no stories for the
children tonight, and presently
they catch the infection of her mood
and grow silent-awed and hushed
when they see their mothers sad
face.
The boy whispers his prayers at
her knee. tod bless papa"
"And bring him safe homo tonight"
says Dolly with little catch in her
voice; and the child, looking up at
her with his fathers lips, lisps out
the petition after her, and doesn't
know why the tears roll down her
Down the staircase again and into
the drawing, room, where the fire is
warm and bright and shaded lamps
east a soft glow. But Dolly is too
anxious to sit in her own easy chair
and wait for Jack as she used 10
do when Jack was hunting. Now
she stations herself behind the cur
tains, for though she cannot see
out far into the dim moonlight she
could hear the sound of his horses
hoofs in the avenue. What is that :?
In the far distance a horses football
sounds on her ear-nearer nearer.
Thank God he has come home !!
And the blood rushes back to her
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 viii be in directly. All the fear
is forgotten in the thought that in
minute lie will be with her
safe by his own fireside, and she
makes up her mind to be very
bright and cheerful this evening,
and never to tell him how frighten-
ed 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
face. The door opens.
"Jackl" she cries and springs
forward with glad cry.
1t is Martin, standing on the
threshold, his face gray and leaden.
THE master has come; | heard
him ride by a moment ago. lie win
be in directly. Why do you look
like that. Martin ?" For the old man
is lifting his trembling hands as if to
push him back.
God keep him from harm! !" he
gasps. But, oh, ma'aml the horse
has come home without the master!"
And thea he breaks down, 'iBut
maybe he's aa.y had a fall, and
Iart himself. The police and all
lve gone to look"
There is no grief on the wife s face
as she listens. In one second all the
Joy had been stamped out, but there
is something awful in the express
ion of her eyes-a look that, thank
God ! is not often seen in q woman's
flee. All the womanly beauty has
given place to this fierce strange woe.
Then the words fell from her lips
like wall; 'They have killed him !
Oh, my husband y
There is wee and weeping and
desolation in Ballyhague; lights
flashing, servants running about
wildly, the women sobbing, the men
with pale scared faces ;all instinct
lively keeping out of sight of the
stricken wife, who, with face like
death, gives her orders with such
awful calmness. She has no hope,
will listen to none. She knows as
surely as if he Law dead at her feet.