The Douglas independent. [volume] (Roseburg, Or.) 187?-1885, 1883-11-17

irritability, became unendurable. His |
business trips became more frequent and |
of longer duration. One bright autumn |
day comes the news that he has gone
abroad. Every one goes in these days. 1t |
passes without comment. This is NJ
ordinary case of ill-treatment and deser-
tion for the divorce courts. None but
the wife knows of the letter stating that |
the house, and liberal annual allow
ance. are left at her disposal, and closing
with the cruel words: "Past events. of
which it is useless to speak further, have
convinced me that our marriage was q
mistake, which only time and separation
can make tolerable. There seems to be
no occasion for ostensibly breaking the
tie that binds Us In name alone. It will
be virtually broken by my departure for
Europe at an early date.
Not one short syllable of regret or COM
fort can she find as in her stunned, half
crazed condition she reads it again and
again. She has told him often that she
was miserable, and wished herself back
in her fathers house.
In blind fit of rage she wished that
they bad never met, and his cold, sar-
castle reply, "Here we meet on mutual
ground, madam" had only lashed the
waves to greater fury. But in her wild
est, most passionate moment she had
never dreamed of this these hideous
words that mocked her, thrusting the
thing she wished for in her face,
ga gauntlet with gift int"
The ample provision was an added bit
terness. Rather would she leave all and
seek her fathers house, or beg her bread
from door to door, than take a penny of
it, but for one thing. The thing he did
not know-that she had longed to tell
him, but angry, sharp edged words had
thrust it back, and now into the shame
and misery of divided house was
coming the new life. that should have
crowned and blessed the whole.
Her first wild, woman's impulse was
to follow him, and at his feet pour out
the whole, and beg him to come back.
"Only time and separation can make
| tolerable." There was no love in the
words. He would not come, and if he
| did, each word and act would be lordly
| concession. That she could not endure,
and it would be but a repetition of the
old grievances.
| No echo of her sorrow reached him.
She did not call him back. sLethean
balm sought in the whirlpool of social
gayety would have developed the hard,
| defiant side of her nature, capable of
much for good or evil. God did not
mean it so. His arms were round about
her, and in those lonely hours of en-
forced quiet that followed, there came a
clear vision of opportunities wronged
and neglected. The love that had been
crowded out and trampled upon came
back in tidal waves, beating down the
barriers, ''crushing the serpent's head, !"
| in those days of pain and weakness after
| the baby came. Then one little message
went across the sea. King, dear, for
give: we want you, Baby and l."
His was slow, white anger that burns
long and deep; but he, too, had found
much time and food for reflection. Men
tally comparing many a famous. foreign
beauty with his queenly wife, he found
| none fairer than the woman he had left
so cruelty. Scenes grow clearer viewed
from a distance. Oil paintings and oui
lives have that in common. But she had
| accepted the situation without word nc
doubt glad of the release. and he was
not the man to retraet. So he quieted
his conscience In its moments of uneasy
ness.
There was something lacking in the
beautiful places he visited, however
Recollections of expeditions glayly
planned in those first halcyon days, ,wher
there was not quite money enough to
go, but it was $50 nice to talk about,
would intrude upon his pleasure trips in
manner quite unforeseen when he ha6
sailel away. The hard crust of pride
and anger became worn little by the
constant recurrence of such painful
thoughts.
"King, dear, forgive; We want you.
baby and l."
Not long or learned, but nice with the
wisdom love teaches.
"Forgivew what was there to forgive:
Had not the wrong been his-all his? A
fatherl and all these weary months he
who had vowed to cherish and protect
her had left her there in doubt, and pain
loneliness, to bear alone! People gazed
thinking the man insane who dashed
past them in the streets, ss his thoughts,
like winged arrows, urged him on.
Childish, fitful April has just glided
over the threshold to maiden May, and
the baby life, coming with the early
breath of spring freshness, seems like
some shrinking anemone, across which
the breeze from belated snowbank
blows, with death In its chill touch.
There is strange, haunting look in her
dark eyes, mirroring dark despairine
moods of the mothers, to those who
read between the lines.
Some babies come into the world to
stay. Dear little red, screaming mites
doubling up their tiny fists, they assert
their rights ut the top of their lungs
evincing their determination to live and
thrive, in defiance of death and doctors
This is not one of these. She seems toe
frail for mortal touch, and the mother
watches over her darling's slumbers. hal
fearing that the angels who must miss
her so have borne their sister home anc
J left her desolate.
Who. after winter of doubt and dis
couragement, has not looked forward to
approaching spring with strange. new
hope? Who has not felt sure some rare
gift waits behind this marvellous unfold
ing of natures lavish treasures? Bless
ings uncounted during the dark, sealed
days, now show us new faces, and we
find within our grasp, mayhap, the very
key for which we sighed so long through
wintry storms, and knew it not til
Mother Nature, with her magic touch
} threw wide her door. and we beheld il
the transfgured light our own foweri
blooming, and the fountains of oul
hearts unseaied.
i ''Spring poets" revel, and the editors
alone are sorrowful and heavy laden.
q A soiled foreign letter reaches The
quiet room across the ocean. Dearer {
| kip,oS i4c xvnr1S than aver h0f