The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1884-08-28


seemed to him that she would bear to
hear it from her WI father. and to him
he telegraphed the facts. Schmidt was
a brave man, with strong feelings,
which he held under all circumstances
in perfect control; and perhaps he
thought his little daughter more like
himself than she was, in her present
weakness. Possibly Things might have
been different if he, realizing her feeble
ness, had prepared her for the bad
news, before telling it her in its utter
hopelessness; but he treated her as he
would have preferred being treated
himself. With the telegram in his
hand he went into her room where she
sat by her baby's cot, and said to her:
christina, your husband is killed!'
And he put the telegram into her lap.
She looked scared for an instant, and
then she said, with a sweet pretty smile
playing round her mouth:
80 no he isn't; he is coming home
to me tonight"
"But, my child, he was killed yester-
day on the Piz Bernina!h
She turned terribly white, and that
hopeless monosyllable, Dead" es-
capped from between her closed lips,
while, snatching up the telegram, she
read and re-read its contents and un-
derstood its cruel meaning only too
clearly for her reason to bear the shock
it received. Gradually a change most
cruel to watch came over her agonized
face. Again it was lighted by a smile
but a senseless, feelingless, meaning
less smile-and she said gaily:
"He is coming by the 6:20 train. We
must go down and meet him, father"
"Good Heavens! was she mad?"
Ay, mad she was. although her father
could not believe anything so horrible
until the doctor fetched from Zurich, in
his certainty of the fact, asked what
asylum Schmidt proposed sending her
to; then he said fiercely that he would
look after his own daughter himself.
And he did SO, with the tenderness
which belongs only to a strong man, as
long as the poor girl needed it.
Far more pitiful than any heart.
broken woman was she in her senseless
expectancy. which gave way after a
day or two to dull despair. But she con
tinued to insist that Hans was coming
by the $40 train; and alters while, moi
content with meeting that one, she spent
nearly the whole of her time just out
side the station, where she could see the
trains come in and watch who got out
of them. When Stanley arrived one
evening, in pouring rain, she was stand.
ing there bareheaded (for she excitedly
refused any interference,) her long
golden-brown hair streaming oyer her
shoulders on to her dripping, clingine
black gown. She tried to dart toward
the train as it drew up, but her father,
gently but firmly putting his arms
around her, kept her near him; she
struggled violently for a moment. ano
then remained passive. Everybody in
the train was watching and plying her,
and, it may be, wondering concerning
her sad story. When she caught sigh
of Stanley she fed to some steps, which
led to the basement of a ~neighborine
house, and crouched down on them
began twisting up her hair in desperate
haste.
"This is Hans FRIEND" she said
sswho will tell me why he does no
come; but Hans would like me to b.
very tidy and neat to meet the gentle
man"
And then, with the impetuosity o
madness, she rushed up to Stanley, ant
falling on her knees on the wet ground
at his feet, she begged and imploret
him to send her husband back to her
The last time Stanley had seen Chris
tina she was standing by Jeni's side
holding his hand and looking proud,
and fondly into his face, her own light
ened by happy realities and happ'
hopes; and now, with her wild eyes, he
white face, her awful, terrified, sense
less expression, she was pleading TO
the treasure which could never, neve
be given her again in this world. Stan
ley left her, half maddened himself b
the sight.
But, mercifully, Death soon elaine
her for his own; and we may trust this
! the husband and wife are togethe
again now, in that dim shadowland bt
: yond the grave, of which, while W
know so little, we can hope so mnch.-
London Household Words.