Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1894-09-22
MANDY'S TRIUMPH.

MANDY'S TRIUMPH.
After Many Years 1t Was Her,
for a Moment.
IT wsS q summer afternoon. TIL,
rich, red gold of the sunshine wa.
broken only by a few tiuttering leaf
shadows as a light breeze stirred the
trees, \ mocking-bird overhead riot
ed and reyeled in showers Of e~cstati,
song. 1t was a day when life seemed
to burn and Jingle everywhere.
Except at the little cabin near the
spring. There was no sound. no sigr
of any occupant until the sun was low,
and the long shadows almost touched
the doorstep with pointing fingers. AT
last a oma entered hurriedly, push.
ing of her sun bonnet, and showing a
pretty. coquettish face, flushed with
excitement and ready to break into
smiles, She began to get supper,
kiudling the fire with fat pine knots
that blazed quickly. As she brought
out the inevitable frying-pan of the
south She sang short snatches of song,
often breaking off abruptly and glanc.
ing over her shoulder at the open door.
Suddenly She uttered a little cry. In
the shadow of the doorway stood II
mana dark, rugged figurc-with II
child asleep in his arms. When he
saw she had noticed him he walked in
and laid the child softly on a low
couch, then sat down by the rough
pine table. He did not once look at
her or speak.
She had held out her arms to the
child, but seeing him so sound asleep,
went back to her cooking.
Presently she looked at her husband
and said timidly, but in a probitiatory
tone:
"Yo're late tonight, Nathan"
He gave her so harsh a look that
she drew back as if afraid, and bent
over the child to see if he had
awakened.
Presently she looked again toward
her husband, as if she fancied she had
misunderstood him and said:
"io' seem out o sorts, Nathan. Did
the child poster yo' while yo' wur
workin'? lo'd better leave him with
me mex time"
lie laughed sneeringly. "Yo' wanted
him, didn't yo'T' He paused a moment
and went on as if with difficulty.
II was plowin' IN the ridSTr, an I
seen yo' an that feEHEar tergether. |
am ! no Feed ter say mo-"
why. Nathan!'-her voice was
raised a little, as if with excitement.
lie broke in roughly
stop, Don't tell no lie. seen yo'
both, an tibet man'd been dead, but |
amt kearin' ter tell the neighborhood.
Henceforward yo' amt no wife of
nine
81 don't suppose yo' ever reared fur
me, anyhow. lo' never said yo' loved
me since the day we was married."
There was a half passionate ring in
her childish voice.
"Ther warn't no call fur Inc to say
anything. ] wus yo' husband"
She began again eagerly, this time
returning to his accusation. "Yo' don't
understan', Nathan
He stopped her, her whole face work
ing convulsively, II do understan'
well cnuf, an | don't want no lies
Her face changed its pink TO white.
its soft contours hardening into "A
curious rgidity. She made no at.
tempt to speak again. She took the
little shawl down that hung on a nail.
and spread it over the child's bare
feet. lie was a pretty boy of four and
his long dark lashes lay without n
culver against his rosy cheeks. She
caught her breath quickly, but she
made no appeal. Her sunbonnct had
fallen on the loor-a sign pregnant
with tragedy in this rude life-she
picked it up, and moved toward the
door as her husband repeated huskily:
" Va Y nv WIG " lllut.
Out Of doors it was very dark, The
cabin stood in the clearing. and close
around were the woods. black. full of
strange sounds, full of moving shadows
cast by one knew not what. Inside,
the circle of light thrown by the pine
knots, and the child's soft breathing
promised safety at least. For one Sec
ond she stood, %irresolute, on the TIRES
hold. Her lips were set. but her mem
DRY conjured up distorted images,
"ha'nts" and wolves, or ''painters,"-
which was it cried like a child?
The man spoke sternly: "Yo' seem
ter forgit the baby and yo' duty ter
him. lfyo' amt my wife, yo' can't un-
do bein' his mother"
Mandy's head dropped. the bonnet
fell from her hand, and she turned
back to the hearth.
Was it a rescue? Was she guilty?
She did not utter another word. PRINT.
tive natures are like children: the
spring of confidence once broken it is
impossible to restore it. Question. re-
proach, accusation, elicit nothing:
thenceforth they are dumb.
The man who had told her rood-bv
was gone, The uneventful mountain
life closed over him as still water over
a stone. He was a confederate soldier
with a wounded leg, who had asked
shelter until he was able to reioin his
regiment. Mandy knew nothing more
OF him except that he was young like
herself, and ready to jest, and the
cabin for the first time was lively.
But Nathan had quickly disliked him.
Mandy felt as if life had closed over
her also. Nathan did not speak to her,
nor in anywise notice her. She fan
cied herself like a ghost, I'M
seen, unheard, by the infringement
when the child vas with her. Before
this he had run after his father all day
over the fields, or staid by him at his
work for hours; but now either Man.
dy's imperious need for human affec-
ton unconsciously drew him, or he
was not so well. At any rate, he could
not be induced to leave her, ;
One day in the ea.ly fall she had
taken him to the ridge to look for
chestnuts. II was clear weather and
there al a sparkle Of frost in the air;
the dry leaves rust,ed under their feet.
G1A .v.. ~.--s-l A.