The Carbon advocate. [volume] (Lehighton, Pa.) 1872-1924, 1882-06-03
A MOTHERS SACRIFICE.

A nre burned IN the low CRATE, but the
little light it gave revealed all the grace
Of Mrs. Wingdtld's slight form in its
close-ftting robes of black. Tonight,
for the first time in her two years of wild
owhood, she laid off the widows cap,
which had for SO long served to conceal
the thick auburn lraids so artistically
coiled about the small head. Perhaps
for this same reason she had dismissed
the butler when he entered according to
cGstom to light lamps, or perhaps be.
canse the slow ticki ag of the clock upon
the mantel revealed to her sufficiently the
lapse of time without compelling her to
distinguish the hands upon the face of
the dial drawing nearer and nearer the
hour whose close approach dissipated the
calmness she vainly strove to gain.
Eighteen years had passed since she
and Arthur Mainwaripg bad met. They
had been lovers in that far-off time, but
he was poor then, with no whisper in the
air of the rich inheritance to which he
afterward fell heir, just too late for it to
bring happiness to either. Not that they
cared for wealth, either of them. but then
there were older, wiser minds to judge for
them both, and so, each vowing eternal
VOWS, they were torn apart. t
Six short months later she married
Edward Wingfieli. He was, fortunately,
not man to look for love and sentiment
in his young wife-only wifely duty and
obedience. In these she never failed
him, and after his death the world found
proof of his esteem in the fact that to his
widow reverted all his fortune, untram.
meled by a single reservation.
She had married very young She was
but thirty-fve now. Would he find hel
changed, she wondered-he for whose
coming she waited here today
Simultan eously with the thought came
the sound of carriage wheels end 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 Mainworing's coming
and already be was here. She was glad
or, so gl' d, that the room was dark, " her
she heard the qnick, firm tread she Lao
sometimes heard in her dreams dur nl
these 10 years of dutiful living; so glad
that he could not see the qnibk blush
which put her matron-hood to shame
when the door was hastily opened, anG
three CT four swift strides srought him tC
her side.
"Barharal"
oh, how bis voice still thrilled her
half with pleasure, half with pain!
His tall form lowered far above her, a,
in the 'olden time; but he held close ia
his own firm, tender grasp, her two little
trembling hands.
Are you glad to see me?" he question
ed. She strove TO answer, but her lips
quivered, and no words came.
Barbara, be said then again, aud h,
bowed his handsome head lower, lis i
too soon to speak?" E
"Oh, Arthur" she answered, "can
yet atone?"
And then the bridge of years was swep
away, aud she sobbed out her happines,
upon his breast,
LET me see you" he said. at last. %
have not yet seen the face for which
have bungered all these years"
He struck light, then turned ant
looked at her,
My darlingy' he said. at is still m,
beautiful Barbara. What have / done I,
deserve this hourl'
Mamma, where are you?" called on
a fresh gi-lish voice at this instantant.
The next moment a young girl cf scare
seventeen summers sprang into the room
This is my daughter, Arthur-m
only child. Dora, let me present you t
one of your mothers oldest friends.
5 The gentleman indicated looked fror
; one to the other-from the mother to th
!. danghter-then back again. Now h
could realize the lapse Of time now
could appreciais the changes years Ia