The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1888-08-17

ner, ana TINS thrill OF expectation III ner
breast.
.Where's the babyy Why don't they
bring the baby to me?" she repeated,
eagerly.
Her husband leaned forward, pressing
her hand in both of his.
1.-THE babyY" he said; "what baby?'
For him the sad present had swallowed
up the past.
sour baby" she whispered, with a look
of rapture in her faded eyes.
sob, Loisn'
He bent his head still lower. That
shadowy child of theirs seemed hardly
more thar a dream to him. lie had
never held it, or played with it, or talked
to it in imagination, as she had.
"His name is Josiah, for you" con-
tinued the dying woman, trying to tighten
her clasp of the hand holding hers, and
looking earnestly up at him.
'He will be little 10. Perhaps his eyes
are like yours, and he will be a good man
like you, | hope. We will teach him to
be good, won't WEI"
Eyes, yes, Lois"
But why don't they bring him to me2
I want so much to hold him, only once,
for a little while. | won't keep him long.
want to feel his little hand on my face
and kiss his little check. Please tell them
to bring him"
"Hush, hush, Lois, dear"
perhaps they don't know where his
clothes are. laid them all ready in the
top drawer of the bureau in 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
things ready. A boy, you said. Oh, do
let me hold him now
The old man groancd aloud and tried to
Quiet her, but without success. Out
doors n wind was rising, a soft wind, fra
grant with the bitter-sweet breath of
blossoming peach trees. 1t sighed at the
open window, and swept a branch of the
birch tree against the upper panes.
The deacon tried to rise to close the
glass, but she moved uneasily as if to sit
up in bed. He put his arms Il to sup
port her. She hardly seemed to see or
feel them. Slowly her face grew radiant
with surprise and delight.
'tAh, YOU have brought him to me at
last she cried, with hands outstretched.
Quick, give him to me here, close to my
heart. Oh, how dear, how beautiful he
is. l had not thought he would be half
so beautiful"
She held her arms as if they encircled a
little form, and bent her face over them
in tenderest mother fashion.
my baby my babyl" 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 no such summons
came.
Night and darkness. fell in the garden
and closed about the house. Fidelia put
q lamp outside the chamber door and shut
the door quietly. She glanced toward the
bed where Mrs. True seemed to be asleep,
her husband, with his face buried in the
pillow, near her. She left all the neees-
sary articles for the night and moved
away with a noiseless step.
The hours went on slowly and silently.
The stars shone out in the sky at
last, while the flowers slept down
in the shadows, and the little bird
was gently rocked in his soft cradle. All
was still in the house where children's
feet had never battered up and down, nor
children's voices echoed.
When morning, calm and sunny,
frightened the quiet room it showed the
woman's face glorified with a smile of alb
solutc peace. Who knows? Perhaps, in
deed, her baby had been brought to her.
Beside her, white and wan in the sui
shine, lay her faithful companion.
Whether hearts do break or not, l cannot
tell. Heaven, at least, had mercifully
let them die together, quietly, as they
lived.