, 1881-04-15
\ MOTHERS SACRIFICE.

Winfield He was, fortunately, not a
man to look for love and sentiment in his
young wife-only wifely duty and Obedi-
ence. In these she never failed him,
ana after his death the world found
proof OF his esteem in the fact that to his
widow reverted all his fortune, untram-
meled by single reservation.
She had married very young. She
was but thirtv-tive now. Would he find
her changed. she wondered-he for
whose coming she waited here to-day?
simultaneously with the thought came
the sound of carriage wheels and horses
hoOfs ON the graveled walk. She started
to her feet, pressing both hands upon
her fast beating heart. Only that morn
ing she had received the telegram an
nouncing Arthur MainwaTing's coming
and already he was here. She was glad,
oil, so glad. that the room was dark when
she heard the quick, firm tread she had
sometimes heard in her dreams during
those long years of dutiful living; so
glad that he could not see the uuick
blush, which brought her matrOnhoOd to
shame, when the door was thrown open,
and three or four swift strides brought
him to her side.
Barbara
Oh, how his voice still thrilled her
half with pleasure, half with pain.
His tall form lowered far above her, as
in the olden time; but he held her close
in his own firm, tender grasp her two
little trembling hands.
Are you glad to see me?" he ques-
toned.
She strove to answer, but her lips
quivered and no words came
Barbara" he said again, and he bow
ed his handsome head lower, lis it too
soon to speak?'
'-Oh. Arthur" she answered, "can 1
ever atone?"
And then the bridge of years was
swept away and she sobbed out her hap
piness upon his heart.
LET me see you, he said at last. 81
have not seen the face for which ! have
hungered for all these years"
He struck a light and then turned and
looked at her.
My darlingr' he said. ''It is still my
beautiful Barbara. What have done to
deserve this hourp'
Mamma, where are you ?" called out
a fresh, girlish voice at that instant.
The next moment young girl of
scarce seventeen summers sprang into
the room.
This is my daughter-Arthur-m
only child. Dora. let me present you to
one of your mothers oldest friends"
The gentleman indicated looked from
one TO the other-from mother to daugh-
ter-then back again. Now he could
realize the lapse of time-now he could
appreciate the changes years had
wrought. 1t was as though he had
brought the past and present face to face,
forcing him to acknowledge the imros-
sibility of natures standing still.
The daughter was fair counterpart
of her mothers beauty. AS she looked
now ,shyly extending to him her hand, as
if in depreciation of her uncsremonious
entrance, so had Barbara looked when
extending her hand in farewell, as though
she would have said, 81 am forced into it
by stronger will than mine"
An uncomfortable sensation rose up in
his breast-a dumb warning against the
inevitable-an unacknOwled desiTe to re-
trace life's pathway and conquer time.
Meantime the young girl pouted the
full red lips, as she thought of her moth
er's friend strangely absent and when
of greeting, they fell upon dull unheed-
ing ears.
Then she had gone. The lovers were
alone again but he no longer opened
wide his arms, but instead drew 8 chair
to her side that they might discuss more
nationally.
''You must teach Dora to love you"
she said to him. Il want first to recon
cile her to my second marriage before
startling her with its possibility. Tell
me: do you think her like me:"
Your second SELF
"Ah am so glad. You will love
her then for my sake?"
To love and be loved Over easy task
sat by frail woman in her blindness. 1t
must be Mainwarring who must be Dora 3
companion in her daily ride. MIR. Main
warning who must teach her to manage
the cookie boat-for which he had sent
to tOWn-in these first early spring days.
The lovers were seldom alone now
Dora looked up at their guest as her
property. She had long ago laughingly
told him how unceremonious had been
his welcome to her, and how he had won
his absOlution.
Sometimes Barbara sighed as she
watched them together, while she sat
alone, but she gave to the sigh no name,
and thought it tribute to the vanished
years. .s
One day came her awakening. Dora
n0u lOE Inelf
afternoon ride, but it had extended be-
yond its wont, and she had grown anxious
and gone out to meet them, striking into
the forest path, which was their favorite
way. Half a mile from home she met
Dora's horse, riderless. Pale with ter
Tor. she hastened on, when she suddenly
stopped, rooted to the spot. Almost at
her feet knelt the man her heart had
loved always, and in his arms he held
Dora's unconscious form.
My love my love P' he said, each
word being borne distinctly on her ear
speak to me once-just once oh,
Dora, are you hurt? My darling, would
that l might have given my life for
yours -
Then he stopped and pressed his lips
to hers A long fiuttering sigh escaped
them.
''Arthnr = she whispered arthur p
And then he laid her down out of his
arms, although. with returning life, he
remembered the duty it brought with it.
The mother sprang forward.
do not be alarmed, "Mr MainwarrinG
said, gently caressing her. Her horse
threw her. l think there is no serious
injury"
No serious injury! None to Dora, but
Barbara knew that her wound was past
healing.