River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1885-08-20

Yonder, instead of the murky fog, |
saw once more between the chestnut
trees the brown towers of Este. where
Petrarch and Laura, where Phil and |,
spent happy hours of love. All me.
could stop no longer, hurried to him;
| knelt down on the floor beside my
husband as he sat broken down by his
sorrow, and, whilst | stole my arms
softly about his neck. my heart 5 love
came rushing up to my eyes and lips,
and went out towards him in one cry
"Oh, Phil, Phil!'
He raised his head slowly, and
turned towards me- His face was
white and stained, scared almost with
the traces of tears; it shook me to the
soul to see that dear face so married.
And then, whilst his eyes scanned my
face curiouslv, he took my hand in
both of his with trembling touch, and
kissed the blue mark on my wrist
"Phil, !" | whispered, rs the tears
streamcd down my own checks, "Phil,
my Phil. there is no sorrow that two
people cannot bear, if only they bear il
hand in hand"
''Do you still love me, child?"
''Oh, but it is so difficult to unloye,'
answered quickly.
And so it must surely be, methinks.
to US women, who comprehend but
few gradations of affection, and to
whom it seems absolutely necessary to
love ''all in all, or not at all. =
My poor little wife, said Phil with
a long sigh.
And thereupon he took my wrists
again. and held them, and kissed them.
softly first, then ardently and with that
tierey masculine love we foolish hearts
hold dearer than all, and then he
stroked my face with both his hands,
and kissed and kissed it till he kissed
away the tears, and | could not but
m lie glad little smile in my deep
content. And. whilst he cOmfQrted
me tears stood in his own eyes yet,
but the beautiful light of tenderness.
together with a brave new purpose,
had come into them also, and shOne
there; it was as though an evil spirit
had been exercised, and an angel had
entered into his rightful dominion once
more.
Two people can do a great deal,
shoulder to shoulder, my Susie; that is
true, said Phil at last.
As he spoke, l bethought me of an
old proverb III n'y que lie bonheur
qui Sc double en- Sc partageant," and |
fancied that if Phil and | could agree
to share our sorrow, we must needs
also double our joy SO | laid my head
on Pills shoulder, and we sat on in
silent sympathy, whilst the long after
noon shadows gradually filled the
room. My heavy burdens seemed
dropping from my tired heart, one by
one, and passionate sense of happi
ness warmed and surrounded me, even
though, all the while, Poverty, stand
ing at our threshold, had opened on us
the chill blasts of want and suffering.
Next morning. early. Phil drew me
gently towards his easel.
''Sit for me, he said, land let me
copy this poor little pale face of
yours.
He set to work eagerly, with unac-
customcd zest and vigOr, and so he
worked well, and the sketch grew into
beauty under his touch, and presently
bore evidence of a master hand.
In the afternoon he went out; his
mood. his very manner had changed;
he wore the promise of success in every
look and feature | sat and sang to
the poor hungry little children during
his absence. My heart had grown so
light, l felt such unbounded faith in
Phil, that | was not surprised, when he
returned, to hear a Joyous quick step
up the stair. or to see the happy express
sion of his face. Yes. he had made an
excellent bargain with Il picture dealer
(whom. bv the bve he never again
-, l., 30,
be employed for several months; mean
while. we were freed from all present
anXietics.
The turn of the tide came for us then;
that was the beginning of our pros
peritv: the world seemed suddenly to
recognize genius that il had crushed
before. | am told this is often the
case; don't know, to me it seems that
our success dates from the day when
Phil and | wept in each others arms
in that meager room-where the sad
wind moaned, and the dark clouds of
poverty and sorrow, and, what is far
worse, chill mistrust of each other,
had gathered about us, and threatened
to overwhelm us.
Phil does not sup on bread and cheese
now; he invites his friends to a coy
dinner in our pretty house. After dim
ner. we all adjourn to the studio, where
the walls are hung with silks and
tapestries and where the men,
lounging in luxurious arm
chairs, smoke and criticiSe my
husbands last new picture (Which is
already secured by an eminent art-col-
lector). Meanwhile, the ladies, gath
ering round the piano, bid me to sing
those songs of Schubert with Heinc 5
weird words, the subtle pathos of
which is to them, perchance, but a
partly solved problem.
Upstairs, Florence and Charlie sleep
Serenely in their soft white beds, and
kindly nurse sews by the shaded lamp
in the adjoining room.
Yet sometimes, an : sometimes, in
the very midst of our new-fOund peace
and luxury, my heart turns back TO
dwell on very different chapter of my
life, a chapter that, like so many mel
dents in our past life, seems almost
fraught with JOY and grief. Almost;
not quite. | dare not say whether 1t be
grief or JOY that predominates in the
tender memory of that one day; to say
50 might seem ungrateful for the happy
present.
But within me strong feeling rises,
and am tempted to 90 out into the
homes Of misery that, alas so thickly
cover the land. and preach a new
doctrine, and say -
when Poverty comes in at the door,
bid Love stand ready to defy him
-
Mrs. senator Douglas Tact.