The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1895-04-26
MACHA.
By ROSA MULH0LLAND.
TCoNTINCED.l

circumstances had almost passed away
from his mind. He was man of quick,
overpowering impulses and memories
that faded with ease. Things that were
full of pathetic interest to him yester-
day were very likely to be follies to him
today. Yet he was faithful in his affec-
ton for Macha, and the sight of her
struggling with her difficulties, labor
ing to make herself all that he could
wish and succeeding by the inspiration
of something like genius touched and
delighted the best feelings of his ma
ture. He was the more disposed to be
satisfied with the results of his mar
riage because his wife's low extraction
was q secret from his associates. IL was
believed that she was the daughter Of
noble but impoverished Irish family;
that she had been neglected in her early
years and educated by her husband. A
pretty romance had been constructed,
how or by whom Sir Humphrey did not
know. His wife's gentle grace was the
real foundation for it, and, at all events,
he had not the courage to contradict the
tale.
With all this good luck there was
something wanting to their happiness
Maeha did not fall into raptures with
the splendors of her home, not with the
amusements of society, nor with the
batteries and triumphs that fell to her
share. She only half lived i'll luxury by
her husband S side; the other half of her
lived on the mountain among the priva-
tions to which she was born. Under
her rich sables she shuddered at the cold
on her mothers limbs, and by her own
glowing fireside she kept counting the
sods of turf that might have been saved
from the rainy season to keep armth
in the aged grandmother wlthered
frame.
She heard the little sisters saying:
"What is Macha doing? Macha is so
happy she has forgotten us!" The heart
within her was getting every day more
promise did not seem likely to be full
filled. AT last she had summoned cour-
age and asked him the question, "When
will you let me see my mother?"
Sir Humphrey was troubled. He was
quite resolved never to let Macha return
to her people, and he had hoped that
the desire to go to them would have
faded away from her before now. There
was something in her face which he
could not understand, but which made
him feel that he must deal very gently
with her.
1T is out of the question at present,
love-" he said, "but you shall send her
any present you please. :"
She shut her eager lips, seeing that
her husband would not bear to he urged.
He went hurriedly out of the room, and
Macha stood silently by the fire, with a
strange gray cloud overshadowing her
face. The third summer had gone by,
and now again the winter was passing,
and she seemed farther than ever from
attaining the great desire of her heart.
A minute she stood where he had left
her, with closed eyes, climbing in spirit
the rough ascent to the mountain cabin.
In imagination she threw herself at her
mothers feet, begged her forgiveness,
assured her of her love, pleaded her in
ability to keep her word.
Then, with o long sigh, she Enclosed
her eyes, unbent her brows and patient
ly went about her occupations. She took
advantage of her husbands permission
| to send a present-a cloak for the grand
mother and flannel for the mother and
the little sisters. There was much trou-
| BILE about addressing the parcel so that
| it might reach that distant and isolated
| cabin, but the trouble was taken, and
that the parcel went safely home was
known by the arrival of an acknowledge
ment of the gift-a grotesque scrawl in
pen and ink, scarcely legible, but ex.
pressive of love and gratitude. Sir
Humphrey read the curious document
with curling lip and threw it in the
fire. Allow his wife to go back among
these savages No; itwas not likely he
could be so foolish. One such folly in a
| lifetime was surely enough. They must
learn to. forget Macha, and Macha must
learn to forget them.
| How was she to be taught to do it,
though? Why was she SO stupidity, so
obstinately blind to the exigencies of
the case? Full of intelligence ON every
other subject she could not be brought
to see that between Sir Humphrey g
wife and the wild tribe of her people
there could not and must not be any
| further personal intercourse. How slow
she was in taking up his meaning when
he tried to bear it in upon her without
| putting the fact before her in uncom-
Portable wordsl With her beautiful seri-
Gus face, her outward and inward refine
ment, in her soft white draperies and
delicate laces, how could she contem.
plate visit to that abode of poverty
which he remembered only too we'll?
Fancy the wild, brown little sisters hug
ging the elegant Lady Gilbert; the
meager, weather beaten mother weeping
over her; the mummylike grandmother
mumbling Irish into her eafsl There
was grotesqueness in the picture as
presented to Sir Humphreys imagina-
tion that brought the indignant color to
his face.
Macha's obtuseness was aggravating.
From time to time she would say to
him imploringly, "When will you allow
me to go?" and when answered pnsatis-
factorily would turn away with that
dull look OF patience that was becoming
habitual to her countenance. She lived
in state of painful suspense, of silent
/ expectation, which showed she had not
taken in the idea that he was resolved
never to grant her request. The memory
of his promise was still so fresh in her
thought. Her stupidity was the blind
| ness of perfect faith.