Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1890-07-03
These were the conditions, and she
700 q mom.,n and loved him

She WAS a woman and loved mm.anG
because of that she hushed her pain and
framed her lips into the shadowy SEM
blance of a smile as she took his out
stretched hand.
It was pitcous slailo-we see it on
the faces Of mothers when they send
their first born to battle, the last brave
cheer of a heart before it breaks and
the eyes upliitcd to his We're strained
wide with that sudden overknow ledge
of life that suffering brings.
He could not meet their gaze.
1t were easier to look on tie muvJer-
ed dead. Had he killed her soul ?
His reelng steps found the door, and
he fled before all courage left him.
lie knew lie was doing right, but it
was so cruel that it wore the look Of
WI ong.
For long time she stood where he
left her, staring at a small black sreck
in the wall papcring above the nantel
WAS It fly or break in the paper
But when she reached her room and
put out the light, she took the slender
right hand that ached yet from that
last fierce wrench, and covered it with
tears and kisses; kisses that fell softly
now as on the dead, and now wildly,
passionately, rs we press the lips Of the
living.
When we are waiting for a dream tc
come true or dear wish to be fulfilled
we first count by days, then by weeks
by months and twelve months, until at
last, disciplined by much patient habi.
Of hoping and rehopiny, next year
seems as close as our childish "to mor.
row"
So Margaret Cancelled the days after
awhile; but 1t took her long, rs it doe;
us all, to realize that time exacts hi.
same number Of minutes to the houl
and seconds to the minute whether We
be
Swift or slow,
Mad with joy or dumb with Voc.
She worked constantly and steadily
she was poor as he was-anL laughed
and sang at her tasks sometimes, fol
the heart does not give up its habits any
more readily than the mind but sh,
felt that something had slipped away
something that had made the skies {
: deeper blue and the grass a richer
green.
'. The bright tints with which you'll
paints the world had dried on the brush
and she wist not how to mix the color
anew.
1t is when we are glad that we wan
the day, the blaze Of light, the sunshine
but when pain struck and weary, w
ask only for some place in which t.
hIe-somewhcre where the soul car
slip for a space the restraints Of tn
body, and staild face to face will
itself.
: Long ago, in compassionate pre-
l knowledge Of this, God said "Le
there be night as we'll as day. and sinr
then into the Sympathetic ear Of th'
y dark, Wht2e "thousand eyes are sight
less, have been sobhcd the secrets Of al
the restless ana grief laden Of earth
and Margaret, like the rest, carried lie
sorrows there and wept her tears IN tn
safe cover of its gloom.
Sometimes in the long years that fol
lowed a letter would come aud it va
| alw;lys hind--OuJ ii never sud 9 az
coming,' and those were the words ST
was thirstny to hear.
Poor child How was she to know
without assurance, that lis love had no
grown coId--perhaps died?
= She had listened so long at the wal
Of space in VAN for sound from he 9th
' er side, had looheI INTO tie iistanc
l with eyes that burned, but were power
less to pierce had hoped until Tia
: nerves of her soul uched; had luIle,
longing with drcalas, ,quleIed lmp"tlenc
with Iaith, only to find at last that yo,
1 can no more nourish a starving hear
; on such unsubStantiaIs than von cal
satisfy with a crust hungry chlld.
In time the body responded to thi
> subtle sickness Of the soul with tina
fin, sympathy found only in de'Icat
organizations, and when a day cam
that hope lay slam, the minor force
, gave way, too, and never again answer
cd to natures rallying call.
Before the worn spirit took its High
it expended all of itself that was earthl,
in one sad yearnins cry, the last wal
of the human passion ere it changed
into The spiritual.
Dear one, let me say It this once. il
; tha e,creI rnreseryc of death-l low,