Bennington semi-weekly banner. (Bennington, Vt.) 1894-1902, 1894-10-19

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fume. On that evening she had listened to
the story that has been so often repeated,
but which never grows old. MAUD, my
darling, I love you. VIII you be my wifeH"
She recalled the very words, she seemed to
hear his dear voice and see his tender
eyes. The betrothal ring was still upon
her finger, just as he put it there that
night, and beside it another, even yet
more sacred, her wedding ring.
And this stormy, desolate night was the
anniversary. Six years ago and the old
homestead had rung with music and rev.
elry. Every window blazed with light,
and every broad hearthstone glowed with
flaming logs. For on that night robed in
white and adorned in blossoms as spotless
and sweet as her own virgin heart, Maud,
sole daughter of house and heart, and
beauty and belle wherever she went be-
camo bride.
Bidding farewell to the old homo and
the old friends, Maud went forth with her
husband, thenceforth and forever to be
the light of his home and the inspiration
of his life.
Ono year-ono short, sweet, happy year,
that went by like some rare, rich, melody,
without a single note of discord to break
it's divine perfection, and then tho trouble
came Tho bare remembrance of it
blanched the wifo's cheeks and made her
breath como in quick, painful gasps. At
the close Of that short, happy year of her
welded life her husband received informa-
ton concerning the illness Of an only
brother residing in California. He was
dying of slow but sure disease and
wished to, sec his brothers. face once more.
| Z ~ II I
The path of duty was plain-he must go.
Maud entreated to be permitted to accom-
pany him, but he was memorable. The
risks and hardships were too great.
| Left alone, Maud was not the woman to
| give way to dependency. 1t was her ma
ture to keep her face to the sun. She kept
| herself busy with the duties of her house
hold, and at last the dreary days went by,
and tidings from Harry came. He was
safe at the journeys end, but his brother
was dead, leaving Harry, however, the in
heritor of q considerable fortune. Just as
soon as his business matters could be ar
ranged Harry wrote, he would start for
home. Soon after, a second mail came,
bringing intelligence that Harry, in COM
pany with quite party of brother travel
ers, had set out, taking the overland route.
Maud counted the days with throbbing
Impotence. The parting had been so long
She pined to see his dear face and hear
his voice once more She worked from
morn till night, filing the rooms with lit
| tie ornaments and getting up little sur
| prises against his return. She cultivated
the flowers he loved and sang the ballads
he admired. Never did woman count the
passing moments with such loving expec-
tation. At last the day came. She had
received no further intelligence, but she
| felt sure that he would come.
The evening was in spring, genial and
balmy, their little home Wilderness of
blossoms. She prepared his supper with
her own hands; she adorned the rooms
with the flowers he loved and even laid
out his gown and slippers and drew his
armchair beneath the window. Then she
went to her chamber and put on the dress
he liked to see her wear-a mauve silk,
with dainty laces at the throat and wrists,
and jet and gold ornaments, her 1ossy
brown hair held back by sprays of hello
trope and sweet verbena. Surveying her
self in the mirror, she smiled and blushed,
remembering his words when she had first
worn tho dress.
"Oh Maud you are so beautiful AL
ways wear this dress, darling, when you
wish to please meP'
The May sun wheeled lower and lower
| and at last went down, leaving the earth
wrapped in tho dusky mists of twilight.
Maud began to grow impatient. She lit
the lamps in the parlor and then went out
to the porch to wait. He surely would
come; he would not disappoint her The
golden tints of day faded like the colors of
n dream. The stars camo out. one by one
in the hazy luster of the sky, and then the
moon arose, coming up grandly above the
purple sleeps. Still he had not come, and
the poor wifes heart began to grow sick
with hope deferred. Another hour, and
them above the murmurous music of the
night, she heard sharp step upon tire
gravel and started to her feet, flushed and
breathless, but the next instant she fell
back, pale with disappointment, for the
step was not his-she knew that long be-
fore the person came in sight. He had adj
vanced toward the porch where she sat with
a slow, uncertain step, observing which,
and recognizing him as one of her neigh
bors, she advanced to meet him.
MIR. Rutherford, is it you? am look
ing for my husband. What do you think
can detain him"
The man stood STILL his face full Of
silent, unspeakable pity. Something In
his expression caught her quick eyes, and
she sprang forward and grasped his arm.
"Mr. Rutherford, you bring me tidings.
Speak; don't keep me in suspense"
Still the man was silent.
''Oh, SIR" she entreated, ''don't trifle
with my feelings. Do you know arything
concerning my husband' If you do, for
mercy sake speak Outp'
Madam have heard-that is, there
is bad news" he began, his voice husky
and broken.
Her face grew as white as death, but her
eyes were clear and calm and her hand
strong as she grasped his arm.
"Sir, If you pity me, tell me the worst
at once can bear it.
"Well, madam, your husband and his
party have been waylaid and murdered by
the Indians"
"All2 Did none escape"
"Not onel"
She turned sharply, leaving him with