Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1882-07-12
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BIrfER-SWEEf.
CONTINUED from Yesterday

BIffER-SWEEf.
Continued from Yesterday
Il am not good enough she cried
She was afraid Of her joy. for she was
timid woman. but in the midst of his
wooino he was yexed at her humility, not
understanding it. for he was only offering
her scapty armful of first fruits, and she
was returning him the full harvest of her
soul. though she did not know its value.
Ee drew her to him and kissed the brown
head and aid it ON his breast. She began
to cry-she had been so greedy of joy late
". and here was its perfection
And he ?-well,i was the sweetest hour
he had ever passed in his life. This girl.
with her simple dress and manner. and
her serious brown eyes and undertone Of
ioyfulness about her, satisfied the more
spiritual side of his nature. And yet she
was not the ideal Of his past. which ideal
had been compounded Of soft-vOiced Cor
della, passionate Juliet, bright Rosalind,
witty Beatrice, and dear Desdemona-in
fact, of all the sweets of many natures
compacted into one.
She was not his heroine. but he was her
hero, and her gladness inclined toward
sadness; for true woman sees herself
value'ess at the moment she believes that
the IMAM Of men, sees in her precious
jewel.
.'Are YOU sorry ~ he asked. half Jest
ingly.
Sorry she said. and with frank vet
coy gesture she nestled close to his heart.
Ill
Marlborough is a country town. seated
in the midst Of smiling plain which
stretches to a line of low wooded hills on
the north. and loses itself in the far hor
lion in every direction. II is sleepy
town full of old houses and old traditions,
and prides itself rather on its ruins than
on It's famous woollen manufacture. 1t is
built in the form of cross-indeed its
main street is called Crossgate. In one
Of the arms of the cross-the one toward
Woodleigh, with its famous old castle
are the best houses. in which the smaller
gentry and the professional men live.
Al the end of the Woodleigh road was
DR.. Enderby's house. large and old-fash-
Toned and hither he brought his wife
Margaret not long after their first meet
ing in the Cloverleigh woods. 1t was
change from the intense quiet of her girl
hood to large circle of friends and a few
secret enemies. But she was Johns wife
and her sweet gayety filled his house with
sunshine, and she shaped herself home
in all oladness. The old red brick house
had ploa rooms, filled with comfort
able furniture, softly cushioned chairs. and
low tables and plenty of flowers; there
were no diney-looking dados. no sad-look-
ing dscOlored blossoms worked on kitch-
en- towels. As Margaret was not aesthetic,
she preferred cheerful chintz and soft vel
vet.
Her own Sanctum was small room
overlooking the garden, and furnished
with soft shades of green. There were
oak shelves flied with her favorite books,
a writing table and few low chairs. At
the window were white lace curtains. and
on the mantelpiece jar of Venetian glass
that looked like fragment of sunset.
Near the window was a stand of flowers
that varied according to the seasons. In
spring there were primroses and violets
even a few tulips; in summer roses and
mignonette in autumn and winter ferns
and MOSES. with perhaps a red geranium
to light them up. Outside in the garden
was great elm overhanging the lawn,
and the fiower-beds were as old fashioned
/ as the house.
In this room of Margaret's, John En-
derby loved to rest in his intervals of
leisure. watching his wife with an interest
and strange timidity that grew deeper
dav by day. Poor Margaret felt him
further from her, and a shadow fell across
her life that the birth of her little son
could not wholly chase away. When the
child was about nine months old it hap
pened that she was often alone. for it was
an unhealthy autumn, and DIR. Enderby's
services were in great requisition, not
only among the rich, but also among the
poor-for he was gentle as well rs skilful.
Now and then he would come in and re-
sumo his old habit of silently watching
and listening to her talk about little Jack.
How she loved that child, What sweet
music his tiny fingers discoursed on that
mothers heart-strings
One afternoon her husband came in as she
was sitting with her child on her knee-a
bright. haired. brown-eyed boy, very
like his father The baby stretched out his
dimpled hands to his father, then with a
child's mischief withdrew them, and hid
his face on his mothers bosom with a
cooling laugh. She bent her head down
on the fluffy curls, and caught his little
bare feet in her hand Che had pulled off
his shoes and socks, the tiny rogue y and
she kissed the rosy toes with lovely moth
er worship.
Look. John" she said. ''isn't he the
most wonderfully sweet child. this prec-
ious baby? What should we do without
himP"
She was flushed and laughing, arms and
heart full too; but sharp pang flashed
through.
He answered quietly. Yes, he is fine
boy for his age" and bending down.
kissed him: but he went away after that
without further speech. 1t often hap
pened so now, and Margaret could not d.
| vine the cause so she was hurt and turned
more and more to the baby for comfort.
On this occasion the doctor went to his
study, locked the door and sat down to
wrcstle with himself, also to take stock of
| his forces for that wrestling.
Terrible and sweet revelation to the
man He had. as the phrase goes. fallen
in love-fortunately with his wife. This
then was the meaning of his silence. his
jealousy, of the tearing away of his old
| pleasant friendliness toward her. This
| love of his was no fame that would die
out. but the strong white heat, the very