Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1882-11-26

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that it might some day be better; that
her untiring patience might at length
win from her husband some acknowledge
ment, however small something like
trust-some sort of consideration or ten
derness. and instead, matters had
steadily grown worse. Each day her
yoke was made more intolerable- each
week was marked by an increase of petty
tyranny, injustice and contemptuous in
difference.
Thus thinking, she had almost, for the
moment, forgotten her moaning babe
but sudden stifening of its little limbs
and contortion of its face attracted her
attention. In an agony of alarm she
called frantically to Ellen.
&c And my goodness gracious ex-
claimed that funcionary, with all the
freedom of an old family servant, "why
in the wide world haven't We sent for the
doctor? It's goin' into fits, the child
isl"
"But Mr.. Oakly has forbidden it."
hesitated the mother, still undecided.
Elien's eyes flashed fire.
"Arrah then I'll - myself. haven't
been with yez In all this time to stand
by and see yer child die, while I've got
legs to go for doctor, if there were
fifty unnatural fathers to the fore for
biddin' me-"
Unnatural father! Well, was he not.
and an unnatural husband, also? Was
he worthy of all the incense and HON
age daily offered on his shrine? Was
not she herself blinded idol worshiper,
sacrificing life, health, happiness, use
fulness and now perhaps her child's ex-
istence before this Juggernaut of duty
that she had reared for herself? In that
brief moment she had lived years. A
chance word had completed the work of
daily suffering and torn the veil from
her eyes.
"Why, my dear Mrs. Oakly," hustled
the doctor, "what possessed YOU to de-
Lay SO long? You have very sick
child"
Mrs. Oakly smiled bitterly.
"Mr. Oakly wouldn't hear of sending
for you," said Ellen, bluntly. "He
said the babe wasn't sick"
"I wonder if he'd refuse to send for
the undertaken if it was dead 2" demand
ed the doctor sharply. "My dear mad
am, beg that, in future, you will con-
suit your own good sense instead of your
husband in a case like this, unless you
wish to bring on both yourself and him
the terrible penalty of undying remorse
for having thrown away the life of your
child"
Mrs. Oakly smiled again,
"YOu need not fear, Doctor"
Nor need he. From that hour she
was changed woman.
Mr.. Oakly, coming home that night
doubly peevish and ill-natured, found q
cool, quiet, self possessed woman, scru-
pulously attending to all his demands,
but no more moved by his taunts and
faultfinding than if she had not even
heard it.
1t was not agreeable, this marbIe-like
passiveness-this perfect silence and i'm
mobility. What is the fun of tuning and
fretting if you can't bring your wife to
your feet, bathed in tears, and asking
pardon for offenses she mas never com.
mitted?
Mr.. Oakly grew tired and perhaps a
little afraid of this new manner of a
woman. He had always been reproach-
ing her for her lack of firmness, charac-
ter, dignity, etc., but then he never
meant those excellent qualities should
be exercised toward him.
He tried kindness and attention. She
received them with the same frigid pro-
priety.
He had worn the key to her loving,
confiding nature so carelessly that he
had lost it, and now he might strike and
call at the barred gates forever-even
she herself could not again admit him.
Once she told him so when, half yexed.
half grieved, he demanded the cause of
this mighty change.
"Dear Fred" she said with one of
her sad smiles, edo YOU remember read
ing to me once of certain waters that,
falling drop by drop on leaves and flow
ers, slowly but surely turned them into
stone2 So there are unkind words,
continued interpretation, daily blind
ness and indifference to the wants Of q
soul that freeze up, pstrify all that IS
In it loving and tender. 1 was woman
4 am a petrifaction. Ask yourself
what caused it. I only know that.
though flesh may turn to stone, love
itself cannot melt the hard, unyielding
substance back again.