The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1884-11-05

Iul nurse eau W. procured that will an
swer as well as you, and can have my
wife again, my home it's mistress and
you some share of life. If this thing
goes on, shall begin to hate the whole
kit of your relations. 1t seems that |
am nobody, not to be considered, ci-
pher, nonentity. There is nobody in
the world to be thought OF but your
brothers pulling wives and a paralyzed
old woman. 4"
"But, Charlie darling, you forget it is
my mother"
You forget it is your husband"
%And the end of it all was q violent
quarrel between Melicent's husband and
James and Francis, all taking the same
view from antagonistic points, and Char
lie flung himself out of the house, and
vowed he would never write or call
upon his wife for a word till she re-
turned to his house
And he kept his word. And he
thought every day how he had to fore
go the sweet presence that others could
enjoy, how he missed the hand and head,
the thousand and one little devices of
skill and talent, with which she beauti-
fed the home and changed the beauti-
Tying. Perhaps he had no thought of
the tax at all that had been upon her, in
addition TO the cares of housekeeping;
but he thought great deal about the
tax 1t was to her to be painting and
selling, in addition to the keeping of
her mother and her mothers home and
the home of those three hulking boys.
He could not comprehend or make al.
lowance for her natural feeling, it had
! grown into something that so outraged
his own rights and feeling; and to him
her bcwildcred conscience seemed at last
to be only an excuse for doing what
she preferred. He grew more and more
angry, in sort of blind rage. that her
life should be spending for these people
and not for himself, and one day she re.
ceived notice of a suit Of divorce upon
the plea of desertion.
Poor Melicent She had felt it COM
ing When week by week and month
by month went by at first, and her pleas
ant home was still so far away, she had
felt it coming in her husbands impa-
tience, that she recognised to be as
righteous as it was unreasonable. Every
day had been an agony of apprehension
to her. But when at last the notice
came, she was, at any rate, out of her
suspense, and had the rest of certainty.
She did not blame Charlie; she could
not. She did not believe in divorce her
self, she held herself as much his wife as
ever; but in the silent depths of her
heart she bitterly upbraided fate that had
forced this cruel lot upon her, and she
wore black gown always afterward.
1t was at this point that Ben, the
eldest of the three lads, brought home
one day a young wife. Perhaps the out
spoken reproaches of James and Francis
made Melicent more lenient Ben had
nothing with which to support wife,
but Melicent felt that, at any rate, here
was help in household duties and in
the nursing of the mother and again
silently upbraided fate that Ben had not
brought her home year ago and set her
free herself to go TO her own home for a
while, before the husband whom she so
loved had taken this fatal step.
But of course Melicent was mistaken
in hoping for any good fortune out of
her life's events. The young wife soon
proved to be only miserable invalid,
and another weight upon her hands.
Melicent dared not think; she let
her mind dwell neither upon the
future nor the past; she only
lived from one moment to the next, and
only set one foot before the other. This
would have been easier for Melicent if
she had had anything to console her as
she went along. The boys seemed fond
of her in their way-she was an affair of
their comfort, and they valued her as a
part of it; they were not fond of her in
II way 10 save her an hours work ora
moments pang. Her mother was of
course so fond of her that she would
hardly let her out of her sight-an op-
pressive, savage fondncss that made only
bondage. But she had none of a
daughters friendly condolences with her;
the height of their intercourse was sub. !
dued fault-finding on the mothers part,
as if it were owing to Melcent's act that
she was ill and poor and helpless and got
well no faster.
So Mclicent went along with her bur. |
den; now and then she found time to
read book, although usually it was in |
the watches of the night, and in order to |
keep herself awake when some exacer-
baton of her mothers illness occurred /.
and now and then Maud, the new wife. |
gave her little pleasure of music, being /.
often well enough to play the piano of |
an evening, and letting the strains mount
to Melicent in the sick-room, the least in .
the world refined and mellowed by the
ascent.
Whether 1T was that her powers
ripened now with the years, or whether
the strain upon ner nerves wrought them .
to highest expression, Melicent had .
never painted so well as she did now,
and her work took on decorative
character that brought fine prices.
She had not sufficient suspicion in her
nature to think of concealing the
fact; and as soon-as the brothers knew
of 1t they saw vistas of good fortune
opening before them. They were not
going to ask Melicent directly for her
money; they knew a trick worth two of
that. Francis had long wanted a horse