Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1885-01-03


them up, mechanically crushing them
between her white fingers Again and
| again she has read them, until the
whole world seems conferred in their
! burning words. Only few lines mar
INC white pages, yet they tell the tale
OF her sorrow. and as they have stained
the unsullied white pages, SO they have
engraven upon her stainless heart the
dark bitterness of sorrow and disgrace.
Five years ago no happier bride ere
left a fathers home than she; but ere
the last year had reached its prime she
had come home sad and weary, with
the weight of years upon her young
head. All the beautiful young life was
a wreck, and the child whose golden
head was pillowed on her breast knew
not her mothers sorrow
In her happy home in the far-off city
the first letter had come, falling into
the depths of her tranquil life like
thunderbolt from Heaven. She had
shivered with terror as she had read its
contents, and she had flung it from her
and trampled it beneath her feet, re-
fusing to believe in her husbands dis
honor. And oh. it WAS a cruel hand
indeed that had peaned the words,
though it was the hand Of her own
uncle.
Mora Wade" he had written her
coldly, 'syour husband has forged a
note in my name. He has fled the city;
but if there is a Law in the land ] shall
make him suffer its fullest penalty"
For one mad moment she had almost
/ ourcnd tho No ha
fathers brother, who had dared to fling
this sudden sorrow upon her. But
scarcely had she realized its truth ere
another missive followed, more full of
bitter poison than the first. 1t was the
hardest blow of all, and her frail heart
had almost broken under the sudden
burden, for the hand she loved best in
all the world had penned the cruel
| words.
"Dear Nora" her husband had said,
''God forgive me for the sorrow have
brought upon you, hut you shall never
look upon my face again. Tempted,
have fallen, and sorrow-stricken leave
| my home never to enter it again. Teach
Alice to forget me and teach your
own heart, Nora, to look upon me as
dead
Is it any wonder that for long weeks
afterward Nora Wade had laid as one
| dead, and that when consciousness had
come she had longed to diep Months
afterwards she was brought back to the
home of her childhood, and there they
had nursed her hack to life. But the
days were to her but meaningless
shadows, and had il not been for the
little life that grew brighter and sweeter
ever day in the peace of the old farm
house, she would willingly have fallen
into the sleep that knows no waking
Now she sits in the shadow of the
darkened room, living again through
the scenes of the past year. But all the
fierceness of her old rebellion had died
away, and she feels only weary,
weary pain that knows no surcease.
She looks upon the lovely child-face
before her with a great tenderness in
her mother eyes-which is yet half
terror. What if those baby lips should
never lisp her name again if
those dimpled hands should never press
her face again in the long, lonely years
to come! And the sweet voice! Would
the old home ever be glad again with
out its ringing echoes2 Not only her
own heart she knows will break, but
the old hearts, too, that have grated
their happiness upon the tender, beau
tiful blossom.
But no! She drives the thought away
Surely God will leave her this this one
wee flower that has blossomed upon her
cross. In her sleep the child sobs her
name, and Nora takes the dainty gold
en- head in her arms, kissing the
flushed cheeks and soothing the wee
sufferer to sleep again And with the
baby arms around her neck, she sinks
herself in a troubled. restless slumber.
Farmer Matthews. riding along the
country road that leads from the city
into the lonely country beyond, is not
without slight fear, for the twilight
has fallen, and it grows darker every
moment. Still the white earth reflects
the fading light. and the stars seen
now and then through the cloud spaces
cast faint glimmer upon the glisten-
ing road. Old D0bhs knows the way
well, however, and he jogs along
placidly, scarcely needing the keen
wind as it sweeps across the snow drifts,
though it blinds him momentarily.
But Farmer Matthews is not alone.
By his side sits young physician,
whose stalwart form does not shrink
from the cutting blast
81 hardly thought you'd come" says
the old farmer. 81 kinder hated to
ask you, you seemed to be enjoyin'
yourself so nightly; but Alice was so
sick, and the women folks-mother
and Nora--lost all faith in the old
doctor, SO | thought there'd be no harm
In comm to see, anyhow"
The old mans voice trembles little.
He is thinking of the frail little form
that has lain 81 helnaezzlx on the niIlo,xr