The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1894-04-18

| i'd, the husband sat leaning forward, his
| arms resting on his knees. AS the curate's
| wife came nervously in he merely glanced
at her without speaking. The tragedy of
his loss or his own illness absorbed his
faculties. She looked round upon the un-
tidy, repulsive details, and the disgust
| they caused sickened her so that she caught
at chair, as If the hold upon it would
prevent her from running away. Then
the stronger impulse swayed her again and
carried her to the woman's side, although
she saw that it was useless to speak to
her.
as there anything we should give herp''
she asked the husband. He pointed to
bottle.
"There's some stuff the doctor left, but
her can't swallow" His own voice was
hoarse and raucous. To her it sounded
like the voice of despair Her heart sank
lower as she began to realize her helpless
ness.
All through the time that followed she
fancied the dying womans eyes, with an
awful look in them, were fixed on her de-
spairingly. Go where she would in the
room, they overlook her and asked why
she had dishonored her God and her hus-
band. For a time she fought them with
the iron strength of her will, but they
were stronger One by one they broke
down her defenses and left her shudder-
ing Yet it was night before she gave way
altogether. The girl had gone down stairs,
the man was sleeping, when she fell upon
her knees by the bedside and cried out
piteously: "Oh, don't don't curse me any
more! He shall come tomorrow
Was it fancy that the eyes which held
hers frightened? For "A moment she
thought so, and yet to her own ears ,
morrow sounded like a mockery. Wild
dreams of flying to fetch him were in her
brain when voice speaking to the girl
below, a step on the creaking STAIR made
her heart stand still, for step and voice
were her husbands. She sprang to her
feet and shrank back, her thin hands nerv-
ously grasping each other, and as she was
in the shadow he did not at first distin-
guish her. But as his eyes realized who
il was he stopped in sheer amazement.
"Lousa!'
She came out trembling and grasped his
arm. "Oh, JohnV' she sobbed.
"What brought you? though you were
at bennington"
"You'll never forgive me-" she said,
disregarding. "They sent for you to come
here this morning, and / was afraid to tell
you"
"Afraid?"
because of the infection and the chill
| dren. | said you were away and then
then grew so miserable, thinking what
they might say of you if they found out
that it was a lie, that l couldn't rest. l
fancied | might come and do something
to make up by nursing her, but l haven't,
John, don't be too angry I'll never be
so distrustful again"
| He made no answer to her appeal, but
put her gently on one side and stepped
forward to the sick woman, who lay more
quiet. When he knelt and prayed, there
was new fervor, a new tenderness in his
dry voice The girl had come up, the man
rolled off the bed and stood with his eyes
fixed ON his wife's ashen face. The other
wife had her face buried in her hands.
Presently her husband touched her ON the
| shoulder.
$50 down." he said ~ will come pres
entity"
Never before had she been afraid of him,
| but his voice sounded like the voice of
Judge, and she said to herself that he
could not forgive her for having kept him
away until it was too late, and she did
not dare disobey. She stood miserably at
the open door, looking out into the lane
and at the light swaying of the trees
against wind swept sky, and it seemed
hours before he joined her there.
"She is gone" he said quietly.
| "God forgive mel" she returned, with
shudder
"Don't you think you had better go and
see if there is anything you can do for
| them?'
"Oh, can I'll" she cried involuntarily,
but the next moment she had left his side
1 IL rl..
came down again, the two went silently
out into the lane. 1t was she who spoke
first. "You need not be afraid" she said.
81 shall never forgive myself" Then, as
he did not answer, she put a question,
"John, how did you heari"
"They told me in the village this morn
ing that there was serious illness at AL
lington."
eyes; but, of course, If l had let you
know that messenger had come to fetch
you, you would not have waited"
81 came pretty SOON"
"This evening know, but too late for
that poor soul to say what was wanted.
Oh, it was dreadful of me Nothing that
you can say is too bad"
at was not like you, but, happily, it
did not matter to her, for | walked here
directly after dinner. l did not tell you
where ] was going, because you are so cas-
lily frightened about infection"
She stopped and held him from her with
both hands. "You have been here before
today"
"Why did you not know? Did they not
tell your" he asked in surprise.
"Not word But, John, l thought 1t
was you'll don't Observation-Disclosures was
pome one she was hungering to seer"
"Ah, yes, poor womanl They had but
one other lad, and he has gone to sea. !
suppose she knew more about the death Of
the two younger boys than they fancied,
for she has been calling out for him all
day. But there was no possibility of get
ting at him."
She drew long breath of relief.
"And this was what you meant when
you said you had some distance to walk"
"And what you meant when you start
ed for Donningtonf"
"Yes-don't talk of it, am so asham-
ed"
She was silent, then cried out suddenly
1.-THE childrenl l am sure you did not
even change your clothes when you got
home. Oh, John, how could you, how
could your And I not there to see after
| in