The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1888-08-03

Her one great grief had grown TO be e
tender memory, and all the days since
had been prosperous and serene, IN
clouded by one harsh look or word.
Now, suddenly, she was young again,
young wife in her new home, with al her
humble household treasures new about
her, and this thrill Of expectation ia ker
breast
where's the babys why don't they
bring the baby 10 me;" she repeated,
eagerly.
Her husband leaned forward, pressing
her hand in both of his
The b2by2' he said; "vyhat baby2''
For him the sad present had swallowed
up the past.
''Our baby" she whispered, with a look
of rapture in her faded eyes.
ooh, Lois,'
He bent his head still lower. That
shadowy child OF theirs seemed hardly
more than a dream TO him. lie had
never held it, or played with it, or talked
TO IL in imagination, as she had.
His name is Josiah, FOR you," con
tinued the dying woman, trying 10 tighten
her clasp of the hand holding hers, and
looking earnestly mp At him.
He VIII be little 10. Pcrhars his eyes
are like yours, and he viii he "a good u4au
like you, I hope. We viii teach him 70
be good, won't weg"
Yes, yes, Lois"
''But why don't they bring him to me?
I want so much to hold him. only once,
for little while. ! won't keep him long.
! want TO feel his little hand on nay face
and kiss his little cheek. Please tell then
TO bring him"
"Hush hush, Lois, dear"
perhaps they don't know where his
clothes are. / laid them ali ready in the
top drawer of the bureau i'm the spare
room, his little blue socks, and his shirt,
and the white slip-they said he must
wear slips at first, not dresses. Every
thing ready. boy, you SAID. Oh, do
let me hold him now"
The old man groaned aloud and tried 20
quiet her, but without success. Ont
doors a wind was rising a soft wind. fra
grant with the bitter-srect breath Of
blossoming peach trees. 1t sighed AZ the
open window, and swept a branch OF the
birch tree against the upper paucs.
The deacon tried TO rise to close the
glass, but she moved uneasiiy rs If to sit
up in bed He put his arms out 10 sup
port her. She hardly seemed % see or
feel them. Slowly her face grew radiant
with surprise and delight.
''Ah, you have brought him 70 mo at
last" she cried with hands outstreJched.
heart. Oh, how dear, how beautiful DE
is. 1 had not thought he would be half
so beautiful"
She held her arms as II they encirclcd a
little form, and bent her face over them
in tenderest mother fashion.
My hahyi my babyr' she whispered,
then, with q sigh of utter content, sank
back upon her pillows.
The women downstairs listened for the
sound of voices to begin again, expecting
to be summoned, but nc such summons
came.
Night and darkness fell in tho rarlen
and closed about the house F.a,'ia pui
4 lamp outside the cham ber door and shat
the door quietly She glanced toward the
bed where Mrs. True seemed TO De sleep,
her husband, with his face buried iu the
pillow, near her. she left all the neces-
sary articles for the night ana moved
away with a noiseless step.
The hours went or slowly and silently
The stars shone out in the sky ut
last, while the flowers slept down
a. the shadows, and the little bird
was gently rocked IN his soft cradle. All
was still in the house where chiIdren's
feet had never pattered mp and down, nor
children's voices echoed.
When morning, calm and sunny,
frightened the quiet room it showed the
womau's face gloriiied with a smile OF alb
solute peace. Who knows2 Perhaps. in
deed, her baby had been brought 20 her.
Beside her, white and wan in the sun
shine, lay her faithful companion.
Whether hearts do break or not. I cannot
tell. Heaven, at least, had mercifully
let them die together, quietly, as they
lived.