The Delaware ledger. (Newark, Del.) 1879-19??, 1886-11-20

tenderly but in his eyes l saw
and l thought my heart would
break to see it, a certain, sad re-
proachful look, that l had caught
on his face once, years ago, when l
accused him of injustice of some tri-
fling, childish fault, a look that had
haunted me in many a still hour
since. And then l heard him say
distinctly, though to not another ear
was the breathless voice audible: :
81 want them to be happy. I
want you to enjoy the day. Did
you think | should not be with you
mother?"
He was with me, thank God, and
I was happy. talked, I laughed, I
chatted with the children their
merriment increased with my mine; /;
my husbands pale face lighted up
l felt my own eyes sparkling. And
all the while, where they saw only
that empty chair, | saw the beauti-
full, still face and happy smile. l
saw him pleased with the old famil-
lar customs. / saw him mindful of
the children's jests. saw his eyes
full of their own home love, turn
from one to another and back again
to me, l saw, and l was content. All
that day he was beside me. He fol-
lowed us into the sitting room and
took his old seat by the cozy fire.
He listened to his fathers stories
and watched the children at their
games, and joined us when we gath
cred around the piano for our twi-
light song. l heard his voice the
children asked what made me sing
so clearly.
Just as the shades began to fall
heavily he drew me toward him by
the frost Lound window lie stop
ped and kissed me- He took me in
his arms and said, as he had said,
as he had said before:
"Did you think l should not be
with you, mother?"
And then I missed him. l called
to him, but he did not answer l
stretched out my arms to him, but
he did not come back to me. The
room grew dark my head swan l
tottered over to my husband.
"Oh, Johnl I have lost him !"
"Mary, why, Mary what is the
matter?" and he caught me in his
arms.
| looked up. was not in the
parlor by the frost bound window !;
the children were not beside me.
The sitting room fire had died down
into ashes the door into the hall
was open, and my husband had on
his overcoat. He was holding me
tightly in his arms.
81 thought, oh, Johnl Johnm
And then | told him all my dream.
When | had finished he was still Il
| long time. then-
"Mary, perhaps the boy has been
to you"
At this moment the clock on the
mantel struck u. We listened to
its strokes till the last one died
away.
at is Thanksgiving morning."
said my husband, solemnly.
When the morning really came,
with its fresh, lrolicking winds and
sunlight, and blue skies with its
merry faces and gay voices, and the
happy children rapping at my door,
| thought Of what he said, "Perhaps
the boy has beon to you" Some
times | think he must have been, so
real and sweet is, even now the
memory of his coming. All that
day he stood beside me. All that
day | saw his peaceful face, and felt
the blessing of his smile, and heard
his low sweet voice. What for
months had looked upon and fear
rd with the bitterness of great
dread, the face, and smile, and voice
made almost painless.
The children's merry greetings did
not hurt me my fingers did not
tremble when they twined the fresh
green leaves about the walls.
The older children went with us
to churoh that morning. The little
church was very still and pleasant,
somehow the service stole away into
my heart. 1t was no eloquent
preacher that we heard only aplain
man with Gods plainest gifts of
mind and culture ? But the day
was real to him, and l listened. A
bit of Mrs. Browning's music kept
singing itself in my soul:
praise thee while my days go on
! love thee while my days go on;
Through dark and dearth, through fire
and frost.
With cmptied arms and treasure lost,
l thank thee while my days 20 on.
u....l. NM L III ILn..l. L.. L