The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1893-04-29

himself to the orchard. He went there
now and sat down on low gnarled limb,
and leaning his bead against tree, tried
to think over the tormenting words Mrs.
Bradley had just spoken. They nettled
him. He told himself she had ought to
mind her own business. But after all he had
himself to blame. By his own confession
his wife was hard worked woman. 1t
was too humiliating He had prided him
self upon being kind to animals and con-
siderate toward help. Was it possible he
had been cruel to his own wife2 1t must
look so, or a good woman like Mrs. Brad
ley would not have spoken as she did
The deacon was good man. He was
not going to spare himself now that his
his eyes were getting wide open. He went
back over the years when they first came
to this farm, when "Cynthy" was young
and bright. She used to talk and laugh
then. What had changed her into the
silent woman she now was? If her busy
hands and feet should be still forever ?
What awful words He had no more cal
cuIated on any change of that kind than
that the old eight day clock which had
ticked on for forty years should suddenly
leave its place. And then that dreadful
thought about farmers wives becoming in
sane He had read enough to know that
melancholy is one species of insanity.
What if that state should be slowly coming
upon his wife, for certainly she grew more
silent and sad year by year. 1t must be
that she did work too hard, for when he came
to reckon it up and tell over to Mrs. Brad
lev all the work she done summer and
winter, it was more than he had supposed.
How could she get any time for reading or
going out? And now that he thought OF
it, she never went anywhere, except to
church, and not always then because often
she was too tired How different it used
to be Once she frequently went to town
with him and they occasionally took tea
with a neighbor or drove in to the sewing
society But lately work had been so
pressing that there had been no time for
going or inviting company. He had just
gone on buying more land and more cows
and employing more men, so adding to her
labor, while she had but one helper they
used to have when the farm was small.
And as if this was not enough he had en-
eouraged her to go on taking summer
boarders occasionally, as she had herself
suggested long ago, one year when the crops
had failed And he, pretending to think
she did it all because she loved work so
much. That was all stuff He had seen
her stand in the door and look after him
when he rode off to town on pleasant
afternoon, and he had heard something
like sigh just as he started. The dear
patient woman had not complained or said
sharp words; he wished she had, then
maybe her pig-headed husband might have
seen things as they were. The truth was
the love of money had taken possession of
him, and he had sacrificed everything.
He had not even limited to his wife that
she must spare herself, and he had forgot
ten to speak words of praise. He hated
himself For although he had been mean,
selfish and grasping, he still loved the wife
of his youth What would all the money
and land he had scraped together be to
him when he had laid her in the old bury
ing ground? The study farmer, as he sat
there thinking these sharp truths in the
gathering shadows, realized for moment
the desolation of going on without her,
He bowed his head and prayed with all
his soul that he might be. forgiven, and
that he and his wife might be together
hand in hand down the hill to the gate
that leads out of life to life eternal.
The darkness had settled down when
Deacon Bates got up and went into the
house. He had gone over everything, had
reconstructed affairs on new basis and
made several plans. He would have no
difficulty in carrying them out, for his
word had ever been law in his own house,
If he suggested anything it must be done,
and this was not on account Of tyranny,
but because of the oldfashioned reverence
for her husband as head of the family,
which Mrs. Bates had always maintained
and instilled into the minds of her children.
"Father knows best, was her unvarying
decision.
1t was not like Deacon Bates to say
anything about his good resolutions, but to
proceed to put them in practice as rapidly
as possible. There was no light in the
s.sting room when he entered but that of
the moon which streamed in at the long
window. He thought theroom was empty
till he caught sight of his wife asleep in
her chair. Her mild pale face upturued
in the white light sent q papg through the
heart of the self convicted man, He went
over to her and laying his hand on her
head, said
Come, mother, you had better not wait
on the boys. I'd go rightto bed if were
you,
He continued to smooth her hair as he
said it, aud Mrs. Bates presently sat up
straight and wondering. 1t was long since
her husband had lost the habit of bestow-
ing little endearments; he used often to do
this very thing in the old days.
tWas Daniel ooino Ia die 2''