Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1891-09-04
! ON THE BRIDGE

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Il ON THE BRIDGE. =
r
When tell you, my only friend, to
whom / so rarely write and whom more
rarely see, that my lonely life has not
been without love for woman, you will
perhaps laugh or doubt
"What@ you will say; that gauns
old specter in his attic, with his books,
his tobacco and his three flower pots!
He would not know that there is such q
word as love did he not encounter 1t now
and then in his reading.
True, have divided my days between
the books in a rich mans counting room
and those in my attic. True, again,
have never been more than merely pass
able to look at, even in my best days.
Yet have loved woman.
During the five years when my elder
brother lay in the hospital across the
river, where he died, it was my custom
to visit him every Sunday. enjoyed
the afternoon walk to the suburbs, where
the air has more of nature in it, especial
ly that portion of the walk which lay
upon the bridge. More life than was
usual upon the bridge moved there on
SUNDAY. Then the cars We're crowded
with people seeking the parks. Many
crossed on foot, stopping TO look idly
down at the dark and sluggish water.
One afternoon, as l stood thus leaning
over the parapet, the sound of woman's
gentle laugh caused me to turn and ocu-
larly inquire its source. The woman
md man were approaching. At the
side of the woman walked soberly a
handsome dog--a collie. There was that
in their appearance and manner which
plainly told me that here were husband
and wife. of the middle class, intelligent
but poor, out for stroll. That they
were quite devoted to each other was
easily discoverable.
The man looked about thirty years of
age. was tall, slender and with neither
strong nor handsome, but amlable face.
He was doubtless clerk fit to be some
thing better.
The woman was perhaps twenty-four.
She was not quite beautiful, yet she was
more than pretty. she was of good size
and figure; and the short plush coat that
she wore, and the manner IN which she
kept her hands thrust i'll the pockets
thereof, gave to her dauntless air
which the quiet and affectionate express
sion of her face softened.
She was IA brunette, her eyes being
large and distinctly dark brown, her
face having that peculiar complexion
which is most quickly affected by any
change in health.
The color of her cheeks, the dark rim
under her eyes, and other indetinable
signs indicated some radical ailment. In
the quick glance that | had of that pair,
while the woman was smiling, a feeling
of pity came over me. have never de-
tccted the exact cause of that emotion.
Perhaps in the woman's face l read the
trace of past bodily and mental suffer
ing; perhaps il subtle mark that death
had already set there.
Neither the woman nor her husband
| noticed me as they passed. The dog re-
garded me cautiously with the corner OF
| his eye. probably would never have
thought Of the three again had | not
seen them upon tine bridge, under ex-
actly the same circumstances. on the
next Sunday
So these young and then happy people
walked here every Sunday, 1 thought.
This, perhaps, was an event looked for
ward to throughout the week. The hus
band, doubtless, was kept Il prisoner and
slave at his desk from Monday morning
until Saturday night, with respite only
for eating and sleeping. Such cases are
common, even with people who can
think and who have some taste for luxu-
ry, and who are not devoid of love for
the beautiful.
The sight of happiness which exists
despite the cruelty Of fate and man., and
which is temporarily unconscious Of its
own liability to interruption and extinc-
ton, invariably fills me with sadness.
And the sadness which arose at the con-
temptation of these two beings begat in
me 4 strange sympathy for and interest
in them.
On Sundays thereafter would go ear
ly to the bridge and wait until they
passed, for it proved that this was their
habitual Sunday walk. Sometimes they
would pause and join those who gazed
down at the black river. | would, now
and again, resume my journey toward
the hospital while they thus stood, and l
would look back from q distance The
bridge would then appear to inc an
abrupt ascent, rising to the dense city,
and their two figures would stand out
clearly against the background.
1t became a matter Of care to me to
observe each Sunday whether the health
of either had varied during the previous
week. The husband, always pale and
slight, showed little change, and that in
frequently But the fluctuations of the
woman, as indicated by complexion,
gait expression and otherwise, were nu-
merous and pronounced. Often she
looked brighter and more robust than on
the preceding Sunday. Her face would
be then rounded out, and the dark ores
cents beneath her eyes would be less
marked. Then found myself elated.
But on the next Sunday the cheeks
had receded slightly, the healthy luster
Sof the eyes had given way to an ominous
glow; the warning of death had re-
turned. Then my heart would sink, and,
lsighing, would murmur inaudibly:
This is one of tns Rad Sundays"
There came time when every Sun
day was bad one
What made me love this woman3 |
Simply the unmistakable completeness |
and constancy of her devotion to her
husband-the absorption of the woman
in the wife. Had the strange ways of |
chance ever made known to her my |
feeling and had she swerved from that |
devotion even to render me back love
for love, then my own alteration for her
would surely have departed.
Yes, loved her-if to fill ones life
with thoughts of a woman, if in fancy
to see her face by day and night, if to
have the will to die for her or to bear
pain for her--if these and many more
things mean love.
Ny richest joy was to see her content
with her husband. and the darkest woe
of my life was to anticipate the termina-
ton of their happiness.
So the Sundays passed. One afternoon
l waited until almost dusk, yet the cou-
pie did not appear.
For seven Sundays in succession l did
not meet them upon their wonted walk
On the eighth Sunday saw the dog
first, then the man. The latter was
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