The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1889-05-23
A WOMAN'S DEVOTION.
The Story of One Woman's Devotion to .
Brutal Husband.

Murders and suicides and drunken
ness go along with the stories of wom-
ans infidelity or devotion. The story
l tell you is of woman's devotion. an
old, old story. and pitiful and foolish.
Thinking on such stories and such
women | always want to kill the latter
for being fools and send them to heaven
for being angels.
A man and his wife moved to Birm-
ingham some years ago. They were
plain people and the man was a low
bred brute.
He drank and gambled and treated
his wife as such men usually do. He
speculated and made Il load of money
and then became ambitious He want
ed to shine in society. He was rather
good-iooking animal, and had a good
deal of dash and go about him. The
woman was plain and couldn't shine,
and he hated and maltreated her more
than ever. She clung to him bravely
until he gave her blow on the head
which prostrated her with brain fever
for some months. While she was i'll
he kept her in one of the basement
rooms of the handsome house he had
built. There she would have died but
for the humanity of negro servant.
When she recovered she sued for a di-
vorce, and as soon as it was granted
she set up dressmaking establish
ment, while the former loved husband
went to distant town and married
pretty young girl.
The man showered every luxury upon
his second wife. She lived in clover,
had an elegant carriage, and ordered
many of her costumes from the north.
1l, ho1 in
ingham her husbands first wife was
her dressmaker.
One evening the poor woman had to
bring party gown OF ''my lady's" to
the mansion herself.
The rich woman was to give a recep-
tion, and kneeling down upon the floor
the toilworn woman looped the tilmy
gown about the fair young creature.
Her face was radiant and rosy as a
child's on Christmas morning.
Jewels sparkled upon her round
white neck and arms. She smiled
down on the sewing woman and
asked:
''Do you think 1 look pretty to-
night?"
Dear reader, if you are a woman
don't you think you would have sprung
up and strangled that white neck by
its rope of gems?
But the kneeling woman was a fool
angel, and she went on draping the
| gown that was, IN all its clOudlike
| beauty, her own shroud.
When she arose there where some
liquid diamonds in the draperies that
would shine in the pages of pain for
| all eternity.
She passed out of the halls of light
and laughter, out into the cold frosty
air with the glad music crying like a
| dirge in her ears. The stars looked
down and seemed to wink and laugh
at her in mockery. When she opened
her door her little child sprang up
from his bed and rushed to its mothers
arms. Didn't you bring Inc some
thing from the party" he cried.
And the woman answered not, but
when the child lay asleep on her
breast, his golden hair was wet and
shining with the treasures brought
from the revel.
Several years the man and his new
wife passed in luxury, then misfortune
came. The man speculated and lost.
He again became brute and gamb-
ler. His pretty wife deserted him. He
was waif, an outcast.
Again one cold night the tired wom-
an passed through the streets to her
cottage door. Beside her gate she
stepped on something human. 1t was
the hand of man who lay besotted on
the pavement.
She kneeled down and sought his
face, and finding it, she found the his
tory of her whole sad life. What
memory was uppermost at that mo-
ment?
The day when he. in his unstained
manhood, took her in his arms and
asked her to be his wife.
The mans face was wet with tear
drops, and God, seeing how they
shone, took them up to heaven and
made them new stars in his armament.
The woman dragged this wreck into
her bright little room.
Had he not been beyond movement
he might have struck her.
She put him on her clean bed, and
he died unconscious of her presence
| in weeks stime.-Atld7ltq Constitution.