The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1893-01-04
e raised the latch Of his door and en-

Blinded by the snow, he could see
nothing at first, but by and by he be-
came conscious of the cold hearth, the
awful silence and that the little house
was empty. 1t did not even hold a
corpse.
The wearied man sank down upon a
chair and gazed about him blankly,
despairingly.
The bed was neatly made, the floor
swept, everything was placed in its
usual orderly fashion, and her dress
hung upon the wall near him-the old
brown calico she had worn the last time
he had seen her.
"Gone," he said dazedly; "gone."
Just then one of the boys, who had felt
strange misgivings and had followed him,
entered.
"What did you say, Charlie? Is she
gomez Why, that couldn't be; she'd
never be such fool as to venture out in
that storm. If she did-poor fellow, he's
faintedl'
1t was some time before Charlie Dean
revived. He was very weary, and the
awfulness Of what had been through his
neglect quite overpowered him.
There, you're better now" said his
friend. "What do you think could have
caused her to leave the house, and where
did she go?"
81 don't know, unless to the stable. l
had left a little corn there"
Charlie" said his friend sternly, ''you
never left your wife in such condition.
But Charlie only nodded.
81 expected to be home, you know-but
don't look at me like that! I'm punished
enoughl She's dead somewhere under
the snow, my poor little Clarer'
They failed to find her. No corn was
missing, it is true, but they found moth
ing to SO much as to point the way
whittier she had gone.
Charlie Dean was changed man once
more. To his boon companions he said
goodby, and many Of them never forgot
the silent pain in his eye, the anguish
that his whole face expressed.
"Its not going to kill him" said the
friend who had been watching him to
see that he did nothing rash. mo, it's
going to make such man out of him as
we never dreamed of. The one thing
now that has possession of him is work
in order that he may forget. It's a good
medicine. / think I'll try some myself.
Three years later, well to do, will
money to spare, for none of it was ever
squandered how, Charlie Dean once more
sought the faraway city where he had
first met and won his wife.
A strange longing had come over him
to once more see that place, and travel
stained and bronzed he walked by the
house almost expecting to hear her touch
upon the piano and the sound of her
sweet voice.
Bewildered, amazed, half believing
himself out of his head, he did hear her
voice once more.
"There's man drunk leaning on the
fence" he heard a strange voice exclaim.
Then the playing ceased, and voice
that almost caused him to faint a seconi
time responded:
a. :. :.sTsr.a1ilzun men are only too common
| Let him alone. Some policeman will b
along presently
Then the music struck up again, thi
time into wild galop, as if the player
| thoughts were running away with her.
'But he's still there" continued TIN
strange voice. "He's peculiar looking
Do look out, Clare. Ideclare feel nerv
ous"
Charlie stood up squarely now, pushed
his hat back slightly and looked full and
straight into the eyes of his wife.
She fell back with cry, the place was
empty, and scarcely knowing what he
did Charlie was turning away when
some one came flying down those steps
and-and, yes, had her hand in his, and
in fearful voice was saying: "Charlie,
oh, Charliei You've come at lastr'
'sI want to know" he said when i'll
the cozy parlor still clinging to her hand,
81 want to know how you got away from
the ranch during that awful storm"
Clare flushed, but answered unhesitat
ingly;
II was good walker. l felt no feai
| of the storm. You had left me almos
nothing to eat, and / really thought
should lose my mind if l remained there
many more days all alone.
81 took the little money still pos
sessed and started soon after you did
only went in an opposite direction.
had scarcely reached the main trail when
two horse wagon came dashing up, the
mana stranger, but God bless him, fol-
he saved my life jumped out and
snatched me up before l could say 'by
your leave and away we tore like mad
The horses were very strong and swift
and we seemed to be outriding the storm
We reached shelter at last, just before
| its fury broke, and l thanked him al
best could. Then, when the roads were
clear, / started for my old home, but
had to stop and work awhile before go
here. Aunt has never heard all thu
story; couldn't talk of some things"
81 thought you dead" said Charlie
Off you could know how 1 have suf
fered. Oh, Glare, l don't suppose yol
could forgiven
~ forgave you long ago. was SOM
TO blame. / ought to have tried to hay,
been happier. wrote to your old home
but they told me you had gone away"
''Shall we begin over, Clare--for whel
you were gone found out how I love,
your
"Oh, yes, and wherever you go I'll tr.
to make that home happy"
"And I'll see that it is rome in whicl
to be happy" answered Charlie, with
tremble in his voice.--Abbie @. Nc
Keever in Yankee Blade.
| PhiIosophv from "A Child.