The Neihart herald. [volume] (Neihart, Mont.) 1890-1901, 1893-07-01
used the latch of his door and en-

CdillC toIiSSiOUo Va thS OcAi bSoitls tlic |
awful silence and that the little house
was empty. 1t did not ever 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
gone? Why, that couldn't be-; she'd
never be such a fool as to venture out in
that storm. IF she did-poor fellow. he's
fainted!"
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?'
II don't know, unless to the stable. !
had left a little corn there"
Charlie" said his friend sternly, "you
never left your wife in such a condition."
But Charlie only nodded.
81 expected to be home, you know-but
don't look at me like that! I'm punished
enough! She's dead somewhere under
the snow, my poor little Clare!'
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 a 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 a mar 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, with
money to spare, for n of it was ever
s~quandered now, 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 he1
voice once more.
There's a man drunk leaning on the
fence" he heard a strange voice exclaim,
Then the playing ceased, and a voice
that almost caused him to faint a second
time responded:
Drunken men are only too common
: Let him alone. Some policeman will b.
+ along presently"
Then the music struck up again, thi'
time into a wild galop, as if the players
. thoughts were running away with her.
But he's still there" continued thu
strange voice. Hes peculiar looking
Do look cut, Glare. declare l feel nerv
ous."
Charlie stood up squarely now, pushed
his hat back slightly and looked full AM
straight into the eyes of his wife.
She fell back with a cry, the place wa
S empty, and scarcely knowing what h
did Charlie was turning away whel
g some one came flying down those step
: and-and, yes, had her hand in his, ant
f in a fearful voice was saying: "Charlie
oh, Charlie! You've come at last!"
81 want to know" he said when il
the cozy parlor still clinging to her hand
81 want to know how you got away froI
n the ranch during that awful storm"
k Glare flushed, but answered unhesitat
e ingly:
s II was D good walker. l felt no fea
of the storm. You had left me almos
e nothing to eat, and | really thought
r should lose my mind if / remained Their
a many more days all alone.
81 took the little money l still pos
d sessed and started soon after you die
only I went in an opposite direction.
had scarcely reached the main trail whe
a two horse wagon came dashing up, tn
mana stranger, but God bless him, fo
v he saved my life jumped out an
q snatched me up before ! could say b
your leave and away we tore like MAJ
The horses were very strong and swift
and we seemed to be outriding the storm
We reached shelter at last, just befol
its fury broke, and l thanked him
+ best I could. Then, when the roads wei
clear, l started for my old home, but
] had to stop and work awhile before ] &C
here. Aunt has never heard all I'll
story; / couldn't talk of some things"
ye 81 thought you dead" said Charli,
es Off you could know how | have SUI
Ia fered. Oh, Glare, l don't suppose yo
rs could forgive!"
ID II forgave you long ago. | was SON
to blame. l ought to have tried to ha,
been happier. l wrote to your old hom
but they told me you had gone away"
70 "Shall we begin over, Clare-for whe
you We're gone . found out how / love
your
ze "Oh, yes, and wherever you go I'll TT
ne to make that home happy"
II "And I'll see that it is a rome in whio
W to be happy" answered Charlie, with
I" tremble in his voice.-Abbie G. M
lie Keever in Yankee Blade.
In Favor of Better Highways.
a The authorities of Vermont and Ne
if. Hampshire, who are looking after Il