Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1894-08-16

was to hold her sometimes-and slipped
out of Melanie's arms on to the ram
part-whiCh was very low just there,
as madame might have observed-or
to the grass, and rolled and rolled down
to the river. II was all as quick as
thought; one moment and the angels
white frock was floating on the stream
Melanie tore down, she knew not how:
1t was as II heaven had given her wings
in that moment. The white frock was
still floating Melanie plunged into
the river; ali! but what was her life at
such time?-a nothing. Alas she
tried to grasp the frcck, but the stream
swept it from her. an instant and enc
saw it no more. She felt herself sink.
ing, and then she tainted. She knew
nothing until she woke in the cottage
where madame found her.
Melanie was heroine in u small way
after this sad event. The villagers
thought her a wonderful person. Her
master rewarded her handsomely, and
promised to retain her in his service
till she should choose to marry. Her
mistress was as grateful as despair can
be for any service.
The light of Constance Sinclair's life
was gone. Her one source Of JOY was
turned to fountain OF bitterness A
dull and bank despair took possession
Of her. She did not succumb utterly
to her grief. She struggled against it
bravely, and she would accept no ones
compassion CT sympathy. One of her
married sisters, comfortable matron
with half dozen healthy children in
her nursery, offered to come and stay
with Mrs. Sinclair; but this kindly
offer was refused almost uncivilly.
What good could you do me?" asked
Constance. "lf you spoke to me of my
darling | should hate you, yet | should
always be thinking of her. Do you
SUPPOSE you could comfort me by tell.
ing me about your herd of children or
by repeating bits of Scripture, such as
people quote in letters Of coincidence?
No; there is no such thing as comfort
for my grief | like to sit al ne and
think Of my pet and be wretched in
my own way. Don't lie angry with me,
dear, for writing 80 savagely. l some
times feel as If | hated eryone in the
world but happy mothers IN Jst OF all. 4"
Gilbert Sinclair endured the loss Of
his little girl with certain amount Of
philosophy. In the first place she was
not boy, and had offended him alb
initio by that demerit. She had been
a pretty little darling, no doubt. and
he had had his moments of fOndness
for her; but his wife's idolatry OF the
child was an offense that had ranked
deep. He had been jealous of his in
FAINT daughter. He put on mourning
and expressed himself deeply afflicted,
but his burden did not press heavily.
A boy would come, perhaps, by and by,
and make amends for this present loss,
and Constance would begin her baby
worship again.
Mr.. Sinclair did not know that for
some hearts there is no beginning
again.
Martha Briggs recovered health and
but her grief for the lost
baby was genuine and unmistak-
able. Constance offered TO keep her
in her service, but this fave or Martha
declined with tears
mo, ma'am, it s best for both that
we should part. | should remind you
of"-here burst of sobs supplied the
missing name-"and you'd remind me.
I'll go home. I'm more grateful than
words can say for all your goodness;
but, oh, | hate myself so for being ill.
| never, never, shall forgive myself
never"
So Martha went back to Davenant in
her mistress train, and there parted
with hel to return to the parental
roof, which was not very far off. 1t
was not so with Melanie. She only
chung to her mistress more devotedly
after the loss of the baby. If her dear
lady would but let her remain with
her as her own maid, she would be be-
yond measure happy. Was not hair
dressing the art in which she most de-
lighted, and millinery the natural bent
of her mind? Gilbert said the girl
had acted nobly, and ought to be re-
tanned in his wife service; so Con-
stance, whose Abigail had lately left
her to better herself by marriage with
an aspiring butler, consented to keep
Melanie as her personal attendant.
She did this, believing with Gilbert
that the girl deserved recompense; but
Melanies presence was full of painful
associations, and kept the bitter men,
DRY of her lost child continually before
her.
Constance went back to Davenant,
and life flowed on in its sullen course
somehow without Baby Christabel.
The two rooms that had been nurseries
two of the prettiest rooms in the big
cd house, with French windows and q
wide balcony, with a fight of steps
leading down to the quaintest old gar
den, shut in from the rest of the
grounds by holly hedge-now became
temples dedicated to the lost. But the
business OF life still went on, and there
was u g eat deal of time she could not
call her own. Gilbert, having dis
missed the memory of his lost child to
the limbo of unpleasant recollections,
resented his wife's brooding grief as a
personal injury, and was determined
to give that sullen sorrow no indul-
gence. When the hunting season was
at its best.and pheasant shooting made
one of the attractions of Davenant, Mr..
Sinclair determined to fill his house
with his own particular set - horsy
men-men who gave their minds to
guns and dogs, and rarely opened their
mouths for speech except to relate an
anecdote about an accomplished setter,
or ver-colored pointer of mine, you
know, " or to dilate upon the noble be-
havior of that central fire Lancaster
of mine" in yesterdays battue-men
who devoted their nights AMI days to
billiards, and whose conversation was
of breaks and hukes, pockets ald can
mons.