Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1893-11-13

answered coldly, "but there is only
one name for my daughter, and that
I have told you; it is my mothers
name as you know, Robert, and l
have always said that my first daugh-
ter should be my mothers namesake,
but never dreamed that you would
feel SO about it," [ continued, ready
to cry, yet keeping the tears back by
a great effort.
eff your mother were not living,
Esther, there would be some reason
for your feeling so, but as it is"
ssIf my mother wa5 dead, would
not care so much about it, for it then
could afford her no pleasure" cried.
eff it were any name but Mary, [
would consent, even though it did not
please nle,'' said Robert. "Come Els
Their, be reasonable; there are SO
many pretty names, and Mary, be-
sides being so common is to me the
very essence Of plainness."
But my mind was made up, and
would not listen.
'sShe is your daughter, as well as
mine, Robert said, "and, of course,
you will name her to suit yourself,
but to me, she can never be any other
than what have said"
How our conversation would have
ended I cannot tell, but fortunately
for US both, it was interrupted by
callers who spent the evening with
US, and for the time being our dispute
and it's cause were forgotten. At
breakfast the next morning the sub
ject was not once alluded to in even
the most remote way, and at noon,
and in the evening it was the same.
Another day came and went, and
still another, and yet not word was
said Our table talk was no longer
the pleasant pastime it had been, for
we found it difficult to sustain con-
versation on topics Of minor interest,
while the one subject which engrossed
our hearts and minds was tabooed.
"Behold how great a matter little
fire kindleth?" AS day after day
passed away, and the week drew to
close heavy weight settled on my
heart. My husband seemed differ
ent person to me. 1t seemed to me
that great gulf had come between
us; even baby, who had before been
associated only with the purest, deep
est joy, seemed changed. [ could not
take her in my arms without thinking
of what chose to call my trouble Fri
day morning came. 1t was a lovely,
sunshiny day; but it seemed to me
the dreariest ever sun rose upon.
ssWho would think Robert could be so
obstinate?'' I said to myself as I rock
ed my little one to sleep.
Just before noon our pastor called.
I was so ill at ease that it was with
difficulty that [ sustained my part in
the conversation. I suppose he no
ticed my agitation, for he inquired if
I was as well as usual. For an in
slant l felt half inclined to tell him
all. It seemed as if it would be re-
lief to open my heart to some one, but
feeling of pride restrained me.
Robert seemed unusually silent at
pale and i'll He kissed the baby, but
did not toss her in the air and play
with her as he generally did; as for
myself, every word I spoke cost me an
effort. When Robert had gone, I
took my little girl in my arms, and
rocked her to sleep, then threw my
self in my chair again and silently
brooded over my unhappiness. 1t
seemed to me that good hearty cry
would be luxury, but it was a luxury
in which I had determined I would
not indulge.
The time passed slowly, and I be-
gan to wonder why baby did not
wake. I went over to the cradle.
Her face was flushed, and I thought
her breathing very unnatural" What
if our darling should be ill?'' I cried,
and then with a chill at my heart,
sWhat if God should take from us the
cause of our dispute?"
At that thought a great revulsion Of
feeling came over me, I knelt down
by my baby's cradle, and wept unre-
STRANGELY. AFTER all" l. JhOught,
els it not natural that Robert should
not care to have his child given SO
common a name as Mary? And what
right have to decide without con-
sulting him what her name should
be? Oh, if he would only Gomez"
took baby in my arms and went to
the window to look for him. Then I
remembered his pale face at dinner.
eff anything should happen I should
never forgive myself" I said. At
L L.