Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1886-03-18

life, and most of her old occupations, and
in little while it began to seem as though
she had never got married at all. There
were changes, though, as she soon found.
There was one pleasant cottage where she
had been used to visit often, and be well
coined as daughter. But she could not
run in there now for a chat with Mrs. Nor
ton as formerly, and she never passed the
white paling without pang, recalling the
many happy days she had spent with the
gentle old lady, whose manner to her when
they met now was little constrained and
cold, as was only natural. Tom she saw
once in the road leading to the town.
He lifted his hat to her, and passed with
out word. 1t made her heart swell, and
she thought him very unkind, and then
blamed herself for thinking so. One day
her brother Ned brought home the news
that Tom Morton was going to be married.
He guessed it was true, because Hugh Lind
say told him so and it was Hugh's cousin
Mary that Tom was courting. Susie did
not believe it in the least, but she could not
help thinking about the report, though she
reminded herself that it WAS no business of
hers, and that it could make no difference
to her whether Tom was really in love
with Mary or not-for was she not Amos
Barton's wife:
So the days passed by. Her husband
wrote regularly after his arrival in Califor-
MIA; he would have to remain there several
weeks, he said, perhaps, longer. He re-
gretted that she had not accompanied him,
because he thought that she would have en-
ioyed the climate and scenery; but perhaps,
after all, he said she was happier where she
was. His letters were always kind, but
short, and rather business like. 1t never
occurred to Susie to keep any Of them; they
were of no especial value to her. One came
at last a little different from the rest. He
seemed to be feeling dull and rather home
sick; touch of melancholy pervaded the
concluding sentences, in which he spoke
Of his strong desire to. see her again. 81
have you with me often in my dreams,
Susan, and the waking is hard to bear. l
have always been such silent, matter-of-
fact fellow, that I don't think have ever
been able to make you fully understand
how much I care for you, my dear. hard
ly realized it myself until left you. But l
hope you will feel sure Of this, whatever
happens-that it has always been my most
earnest wish to make you happy, and if 1
have failed, it has not been for want Of
trying"
Susie pondered over those words, and
marveled at them. The wish, SO often felt,
recurred to her, that she could make bet
ter return for her husbands affections; then
she put the letter in drawer and ceased to
think about it,
She was in the habit of going on regular
days to the post-office, always getting her
California letters on those days. When
she next went, expecting her mail as us
ual, there was none for her. She thought lit
tie about it, supposing it had missed day;
but when nearly week passed and still
nothing came she began to feel worried.
Then came an envelope addressed In a
strange hand. On opening it she found a
half sheet of paper containing few words,
announcing the fact that her husband had
been suddenly taken i'll on the street and con-
veyed to a hospital, where he now was. She
was smitten with self-reproach at the recol-
lection of her own Indifference and cold
ness, and was conscious of a sincere wish
for his recovery. The next day came an
other letter from the same source. This
time the news was startling-Amos Barton
was dead.
Dead! She sat down and tried to realize
it, but she could not. Then she tried to an
alyZe her own sensations in thinking it over,
but she could not succeed any better in this.
Was she grieved? Honestly, she did not
know. She only knew this, that she hated
herselffor her own uncertainty. Ought she
not cry and be sorrowful, as a widow
should? But it seemed SO strange to her
that she was widow
Her husbands death meant one thing
and this she could not forget, try as she
might-it meant that she was released from
her bondage. And with this reflection came
sudden thrill and uprising of her heart,
followed by fresh selfloathing for the sin
she was guilty of but could not help.
l do not think she was to blame. Her
first step had probably been wrong, for she
had in some sort perjured herself in taking
the marriage VOW upon her lips; but she
had acted, as it seemed to her, from q duti-
full motive, and this was certainly true.
Whether the sin Of marrying without love
was outweighed by the merit of her self
sacrifice and tilial regard, | leave it for
others to decide. She felt guilty, and mis-
erable, and self reproachful, and relieved,
and lightened of a heavy burden, all in
one. The conflict of her feelings alone was
sufficiently distresslul to her to prevent her
from appearing Indifferent and unmoved.
And though she kept very quiet, her pale
face and subdued manner were suitable
enough to the mourning garb she assumed.
The physician who had attended her hus-
band wrote to her very kindly, stating that
it had been Mr.. Barton's expressed wish to
be buried in the San Francisco cemetery {;
and that his funeral had been properly con-
Quoted, and all things done in order. Other
letters came to her from parties with whom
he had been connected in business during
his stay in San Francisco; and she had
enough to occupy her, in looking after the
settlement of his affairs, for some time to
come. His will, remaining in the hands of
his lawyer at home, was read, and Susie
found herself sole possessor of an immense
fortune, left at her disposal without one
condition or drawback.
OF course, she was now an important per-
son, but she was in no haste to make use of
her new prerogative. She tried to carry out
to the letter her husbands plans as far as he
had made them known to her, bought a
commodious house little outside of her ma