Huntsville gazette., 1883-11-17

ouiShSou' I've sIucK 10 you ever Sence,
and You nor nobody else can say that Sarah
Rounds ever begrudged you time or labor,
or shut her eyes to your interest in any
way. In all that time, Benjamin Dwight,
you've never flew right in my face before.
You've been contrary and obstinate, good
ness knows, but you've never gone purpose
ly righ: square aginst my expressed wish
es Well, the best of friends must part. I
| suppose you're tired of the old woman, SO
brought you the keys. You can get an
| other housekeeper-she'll find everything
| straight
Mr. Dwight was taken completely by sur
prise.
"Why, Sarahr' he exclaimed, ''what do
you mean? You surely would not think of
| leaving me?v
Sarah had arisen, and now stood like a
statue with her eyes bent upon the floor.
| After waiting moment Mr.. Dwight said:
1t seems to me very hard, Sarah, that you
should SO bitterly oppose my wishes to in
dulge myself in the luxury of a little act of
charity. What makes you so set against
these poor children? If you had been
married and had had children of your own
you would feel differently, even if you had
only their graves to remind you of them"
Sarah Rounds looked up quickly, and,
though her cheeks flushed, she said, quite
calmly:
benjamin Dwight, l have been married.
l have had children, and | have only their
! graves to remind me of them!" and before
| Mr.. Dwight could express his surprise, she
added: "When entered your service you
asked no questions about MY past life. You
knew that my brother had been killed by
the Indians, and that that was how l hap
pened to be alone in that camp of wild men.
Out of gratitude for my care of you in that
! long spell of broken bones and fever, YOU
took me away with you from that awful
| place, and promised that l should never
want again. You have kept your promise,
| but from first to last, through all the good
and bad we've gone through together, you
| never felt interest enough in me to ask one
question about my lie before you knew me,
or if l hau friends, or if l was married or
single You gave me a home, and l gave
you faithful service, and there all your in
terest in me ended"
"You must not say that, Sarah, for it is
not true. How could help feeling deep
| interest in one who has been like good
sister to me, not only served me well, but
borne with all my faults. No, no, Sarah; if
l never asked you about yourself, it was be-
cause | thought from the circumstance of
your being in that camp that you might not
care to be questioned"
"There was nothing to be ashamed of,
Mr.. Dwight; [ had nothing to hide but
broken heart, and that | carry vet. You
wonder that l don't love children. Pm
afraid Of children. Every child l see stabs
me, and | want to stab back. | can't help
1.-THE Lord is to blame. | had happy
home in Maine, a good husband and three
beautiful children. l am old and withered
now, Mr.. Dwight, but once l was called the
| handsomest young woman in the State"
II can well believe it, Sarah," said her
listener, as she paused moment.
"My husband,'' she continued, twas mas
| ter of fishing-smack. Coming back from
the last haul OF the year he foundered in
storm in sight of the light in his own win
| I is hOd IN he ayrt
| morning. Before | hardly had time to tell
myself l was a wdder, the fever broke out
in Saco, and in one week my three children
was laid alongside of their father in the
churchyard. l didn't grieve; somehow l
couldn't. But I hated every woman that
had a husband, and hated every child that
crossed my path; and l wanted to get away
| from them all. | stood it as long as | could
the pitying looks and words of people
that had their families around 'em every
highland one day put some clothes in
| bundle, took two hundred dollars / had
saved up, set fire to my house and waited
| till everything in it and around it was burnt
| to ashes, and then l left town. People
said | was crazy, but l warn't. l only
wouldn't have any other folks's children
| a-playin' about where mine had played, or
usin' the things mine had used"
"Poor woman!'' said Mr.. Dwight. "But
how came you to wander out to Califor
| nia?"
"My brother was workin' in the mines
| there, and | found my way to him. Three
days after got TO him the Indians caught
| him, and didn't even have chance to
bury him. Then l took to cookin' for
| them miners. You came there, and | saw
! you was different from the others. You
had no hard words for anybody, and you
KEEP yourself a-lookin' decent. | took you
under my protection from the first though
| you didn't know it, and long before the
| time ca1,1e yvhen thara was Orca sion for Won
to need me, Benjamin Dwight, would
! "a laid my life down for you. /
could never expect to be happy again, but
| you was always kind and considerit, and |
| have been tolerable contented woman. |
| didn'6 think it would last so long, for l
| reckoned on you marryin', and then l
would have had to leave, for | couldn't "a
| KEEP house for your wife. Mr.. Dwight. l
was glad when the end of every year came
| and you was bachelor yet, and | was be-
| ginnin' to think you would stay so but this
| cranky notion about them children is jest
a-goin' to put the other notion in your
head, know, and l had better leave in
| time"
| Nonsense, nonsense, Sarah! ~ exclaimed
Mr.. Dwight, 81 have no more thought of
marrying than you have. [ had no idea of
| any such sad history as you have related
| to me, but it gives you another claim upon
me. I can not do without you, Sarah, and
you can not do without me, and | won't
| hear word about your leaving me. Do
you remember your children, SarahW
Remember my children. Mr.. Dwight"
she exclaimed almost fiercely.
"Well,'' he said, gently, 81 want you to
recall them and their pretty ways to your
mind now. Suppose instead of your losing
them they had lost you? Sarah, they might
have been thrown poor and friendless upon
the world just like many of the childen we
have just been talking about. Do you not
in your heart bless the man or woman who
would have spoken kindly to them, or have
done the least thing to help them to rise
out of their loneliness and misery? Answer
me, Sarah"
The woman's face twitched, and her
hands trembed so that the keys dropped
from them. A silence of several minutes
followed Mr.. Dwlght's question, and he
saw that she was making mighty effort to
control herself. But her strong nature had
been too deeply stirred. An agonizing sob
burst from her lips, and with both hands
pressed to her heart she abruptly turned
and left The room, and was seen no more
| that day.
But the next morning, as Mr.. Dwight was
mounting his horse for his usual ride, she
came to him and handing him ten-dollar
bill, said, without looking at him:
G.-x-1 E-,- fl,,@s-.1 .1olrI l. lt.Nra