Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1893-12-16

| were putting her to sleep.
1t was heartbreaking. The women
to whom the child was only dear
little baby who would be better off in
Heaven as the phrase goes, crept
about the room weeping softly with
aching hearts, while she to whom she
was all of earth was dry-eyed. After
a time Margaret looked up.
Doctor" she asked. how long?"
Il can hardly tell" he answered,
but only few hours at best, think.
She turned to the women.
"Send for her father" she said.
briefly
There was slight stir of surprise.
Significant glances passed from one to
another behind her bowed head. Then
they went out to do her bidding.
"a And do you ask why the father must
be sent for? why husband and wife
had stood alone on this long, long day,
when of all days they should have
| leaned upon each other? / cannot tell.
l only know that one year ago to-day,
in an unguarded hour, word--born of
a throbbing brain, or quivering nerve.
or an aching tooth. perhaps-had
wounded heart: that other words.
sharper and more singing. had fol-
lowed: that the imprisoned demons of
misunderstanding and pride and OBJ
Stinacy had been let loose, and that
these two who had vowed ''to love and
to cherish had stood and cruelty thrust
each other through until their hearts
were torn and bleeding.
/ i II 1
home. And man tossed on a sleepless
bed that night, saying over and over:
''If could only take it back!' And a
woman knelt in her lonely house and
sobbed: 30, God! o, God! If l hadn't
said it, And Memory wrung her
hands and wept over them both and
moaned: 1T was just word-just
! word-but they can't get it back!''
The message was quickly sent and
as quickly answered. The case brooked
no delay. Margaret Thorne heard the
familiar step in the hall. then in the
room below. She knew what he was
doing. How often she had seen him
stoop over the CRATE with outspread
hands, saying cheerily, as Beth
crowed and held out her hands: Just
minute, little Beth. Papa mustn't
chill the babyr' The memory of the
old-time tenderness, the old-time hap
piness struck her with a sudden pang.
Never again: never again!" she whis-
pered, as she bent over the child.
A moment later he came in. The
women spoke to him in the sympa-
! ,4 l., 4 H. al. /
doctor silently wrung his hand. Mar
garet looked up with slight move
ment of the head, but did not offer
him her hand. He stood irresolute a
moment. then took the chair facing
her. the baby between them.
Margaret" he said, lit was very
good of you to send for me-"
1T was only right she said. her
voice hardening in her efforts to steady
it: ''she is your child, too"
She had not meant to be harsh. but
she knew it sounded so. Why must
she always be misunderstood? He half
sighed. The message had come. then,
from no lingering tenderness or re-
turning softness. but from a stern
sense of right. Well, so be it.
He made no effort at conversation,
and so they sat, the silence of death
upon them. 1t grew oppressive. The
women. one by one, stole out of the
room. and the doctor finally, with the
feeling that even he intruded here,
muttered something about going into
the library to lie down, telling them to
call him if there should be any change
He went heavily down the stairs, and
the two We're left alone with the dying
child.
1t was a strange scene. Each held a
baby hand: each with burden of grief
unuttera bic bent over the little form
and watched the Pickering life go out;
and each shut up and double-locked
and bolted the heart that the other
should not know what was therein.
They We're but hands breadth apart.
but between them was great gulf
fixed.
John ThOrne had not seen his child
since that er-to-be-forgOtten day
when he gave her and his home into
Margaret's hands and went forth alone.
How he had longed for sight of the
baby face, for a touch of the baby
hands, none but himself would ever
know. But he had been too proud to
ask to see her, and Margaret had said,
in bitter scorn: 1t is the way of the SEX
A woman would never have forgotten
her own child" And she had clasped
Beth passionately to her heart and
cried out: II aciH be ,tdther and mother
doh to yOu, my baby, my poor, forsaken
baby
And she had steeled her heart against
her husband for Beth's sake and had
kept her proudly out of his way, never
doubling for a moment that his had
been shallow pretense of love com
pared with her own.
AS he bent over her now. all his heart
in his eyes, strange feeling of doubt
began Juggling at her heart. Had he
really loved the child like this? I'm
comfortable regrets took possession of
her Could she have misjudged him?
She might have sent Beth to see him
occasionally, it seemed to her now.
when she had her all the time He had
been more generous than she. On that