Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1895-06-27

wholly sunshine. And that mad bird,
that loud-voced mavs, singing incessant-
ly in the sycamore tree-he covered ms
ears TO deaden the sound. All the sound
he cared to hear-and his very soul
seemed concentrated in listening-was the
moving of feet in that room up stairs,
where the terrible battle for life was 60
ing on, and during which he seemed him.
self to be dying hundred deaths.
He did nothing, absolutely nothing,
bour after hour; what was there for him
to do? Once, catching sight Of the pile
of letters-those happy letters, which no.
body had thought of posting-he rose me-
chanically, in order to put them away
somewhere, and in looking about found
his wifes work-basket, just as she had
left it, the needle still sticking into the
unfinished frill. Would it ever be finished!
With n gasp and wild stare round, as
If to call to her-to appeal to her-she,
who had never before forsalen him thus
been missing when he wanted her, or
silent when he caled-he seized and kissed
it. Then he put everything in its place
again. including her garden shawl which
he folded up with his helpless hands as
tenderly as if it had been living thing,
and sat down again in the same chair,
with his head dropped on his hands.
Presently he had to arouse himself, and
speak few commonplace words to Sir
John, who came to fetch Lady Symington
home to dinner people must dine, and the
dear old lady looked exhausted. SHE went
up to Roderick and kissed him-bade him
hope still-while there was life there was
hope; but nevertheless urged upon him
that last solemn prayer, which often
seems to bring back the very blessing it
resigns-"Thy will be done"
81 can't say til can't" he answered
the young man to whom anguish-such
anguish as this-was utterly unknown
But after she had left, promising to come
again before midnight, he fell down on
his knees and in an agony such as he had
not believed any man could pass through
and live, he said it.
After that he seemed to grow quieter,
and ready to accept everything.
By and by the Doctor came down to
him for minute, with an anxious face
but CHEEKY voice.
''Take heart my dear fellow. As [
said, while there's life there's hope. Do
not 90 near her BY and by I'll fetch you,
should there come II change"
"a change? For the better?"
eyes Or what they call tightening
before DEATH"
Death and her! The two ideas seemed
mpossiblc-irreconcila Shuddering
Rodcrck turned away from the old man.
who did not mean to be cruel, who even
put his hand kindly on the young fellows
shoulder and again babe him keep up"
that all was being done that could be
done; that he had seen many worse
case and so on, and so on. But Roderck
heard it all as one in dream and direct
" afterward hearing the sound of n car
riage and believing it was only Black
who always meant well, but the sight of
whom would almost madden him just
then he bolted out of the long window,
and went and hid himself in the darkest
depths OF the glen.
When he ventured back into the house
the fire had died out-only solitary can
die was left burning on the table. He
stole upstairs and listened at his wifc's
door. All was quiet. There was not
even the sound of the doctors quick,
resolute voice; he must have gone away.
heart. Cropping his way back to the par
lor, he sat down in his old seat, waiting
in sort of stupefaction for the final
blow, and repeating to himself over and
over again line which seemed persistent
ly to "beat time to nothing" in his over
strained brain-Othellos piteous moan.
"My wife, What wife? l have no
wifew Perhaps even now he, too, had no
wife. All the sweet days We're over, her
brief happiness was ended, her young life
DONE And he?
Such loss is a common story. Many
young man had lived though it-living
long after it-perhaps won another wife,
and had many other children, and been
very happy, APPARENTLY; but | question if
he was ever quite the man he was before,
and l think he would hardly be true
man if some little bit Of his heart was not
forever buried in his dead wife's grave.
The candle burned itself out, and the
moonlight creeping in between the I'M
drawn curtain, was beginning to fill the
room with Il pale, ghostly light, when
Roderick heard the door open, and some
one enter very gently and hesitatingly.
"Well?" he said, not lifting his head,
not doubling it was the summons of doom.
No answer; but the intruder came close
to him-touched him.
"Who's that?" he said, almost fiercely;
"whos that"
Its me, Rody; it's your mother"
ooh, mother, mother"
For one moment her arms were round
his neck and his head on her shoulder.
Then he thrust her violently away.
Il don't want my mother; l want my
wife. What of my wife? Is she alive?"
YES. And she will live And l thought
I'd be the first to come and tell you. Do
you hear, Rody? She's safe-quite safe.
Both doctors say so. Thank God! thank
God! Oh, Rody, my son, my son!'
Once more she opened to him those fond
mother-arms which no man can resist
no man ought to resist-and let him sob
his heart out there, patting him, kissing
him, treating him almost as if he had
been a little child. and sobbing herself
the while with undisguised, uncontrolla-
bic emotion.
''How did you come, mother? Since
when have you been here"
Ever so long, my dear"
ST was never told"
''No; I went straight up to her. 1t did
not matter; she knew nobody. The doctor
Is friend Of mine: he let me be with her