The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1895-05-31
ligence. but she felt sure that he

supper with her own nanuS, sne
adorned the rooms with the flowers he
loved, and even laid out his gown and
slippers and drew his armchair be-
meath the window. Then she went to
her chamber and put on the dress he
liked to see her wear, a mauve silk,
with dainty lace at the throat and
wrists and Jet and gold ornaments, her
flossy brown hair held back by sprays
of heliotrope and sweet verbena. Sur
veying herself in the mirror she
smiled and bushed, remembering his
words when she had first worn the
dress
"Oh, Maud, you are beautiful! AL
ways wear this dress, darling when
you wish to please me-"
The May sun wheeled lower and
lower and at last went down, leaving
the earth wrapped in the dusky mists
of twilight Maud 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 gol-
den tints of the day faded like the
colors Of dream. The stars came
out one by one in the hazy lustre OF
the sky, and then the moon arose,
coming up grandly above the purple
sleeps. Still he had not come, and
the poor wife's heart began to grow
sick with hope deferred. Another hour
and then above the murmurous music
of the night she heard a sharp step
upon the gravel and started to her
feet. flushed and all breathless, but the
next instant she fell back, pale with
disappointment, for the step was not
his--she knew that long before the per-
son came In sight. He had advanced
towards the porch where she sat with
slow, uncertain step, observing
which and recognizing him as one OF
her neighbors, she advanced to meet
him.
Mr.. Rutherford, is it you? l am
looking 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 tid-
ings. Speak! Don't keep me in sus-
pense" |
Still the man was silent.
"Oh, SIR" she entreated, don't trifle
with my feelings. Do you know any
thing concerning my husband? If you
do, for mercy sake speak out!'
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. l lean bear it,"
well, madam, your husband and
his party have been waylaid and mur-
dered by the Indians"
"All? Did none escape?"
mot one
She turned sharply, leaving him
without word, and he saw her enter
the house and close the door after her,
and that was the end. He would
never come back any more, no mat
ter how patiently she might wait and
watch. He would never know that he
had son, never look upon the little
chubby face, with it's bold, blue eyes
and sunny curls, so like his own.
| Henceforth her heart and home were
desolate.
And this was the anniversary Of her
wedding day. Six years ago, and she
was happy bride Five years she had
been heartbroken widow. Her boy
slept in his little bed, and she sat
there thinking, thinking, and gazing
out at the low leaden sky and the
wind-tossed trees. The night was
closing rapidly-a night of storm and
darkness. The rain came down in
great smoking sheets, and the wild,
wailing winds rushed around the
| gables and went .shrieking over the
| hills like human souls in agony. Her
heart ached with a desolation that
seemed almost insupportable. Life
was so hard, yet for the boys sake she
must endure and live on.
She looked down at her sable gar
ments with hot, binding tears. Six
| years ago, and she was robed in gems
and blossoms. His face, his very
voice, seemed to come back to her,
and she fancied that his spirit must be
near her. No matter how high above
her, how happy, she knew that he
loved her still, and his glorified spirit
may have left its home of bliss to keep
I with her that sacred anniversary.
The fancy consoled her beyond ex-
preston. She glanced over at the
sleeping boy with a dim hope that his
father loved him and watched over
him. Then a sudden impulse shot
across her mind. She would not keep
the anniversary of her wedding day in
the garments Of womanhood; she would
put on the robe she loved. If he knew
aught Of her poor, sad life he should
see how sacredly she remembered and
observed his simplest wishes.
Stealing up to her chamber she took
out the mauve silk and the dainty
laces, growing yellow and timeworn,
and pretty jet and gold ornament,
and arrayed herself as in days gone
by, and the old bloom came back to her
cheeks and the brightness to her eyes
and she seemed 10 drop her years OF
widowhood and to spring out afresh
into the rare beauty of her early
maidenhood. Thus arrayed, she went
down softly and seated herself before
the blazing fire, her face fearful and
expectant If his soul was near-she
clung to the hope that 1t was, as she
clung to life-he should see how ten
derby she remembered him.
The anniversary night wore on, wild