The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1895-12-29

bands with it; others bear it in silence
and-learn to hate the men they have
loved. 1t has been simple as it seems;
one of the commonest curses of mar
rage"
Thinking deeply. Darrach took out
his knife and, holding the reins loosely
in his left hand, tried with mis- right to
cut off a spray of the syringa. There
was a stumble of the horses, a lurch-
| and he felt the knife clea wing the soft
flesh of her arm. The blood Spurted.
She uttered a faint cry.
He stopped the horses instantly and
Selling her arm with both hands, tried
| to stop the flow of blood with his
handkerchief.
My Godr' he cried. His voice trem-
bled with strong emotion. II have hurt
you'll And I love you better
than life! God, how it bleeds! But it
is not the artery-it will soon stop
thank heaven! But to have hurt you
Dearer than my own life!
dearest!'
His passion had broken down his self
control The words trampled each
other in their utterance. After the last
word there was a. terrible silence. He
dared not look at her, but he felt that
she was very white and that her lips
were not together.
Il think that will do" she said in an
away, slowly and deliberately. 1T is
not serious" Then they looked at
each other. Her glance was level and
steady.
Darrach was trembling under the
strength of the feeling he was endea-
voring to control; his eyelids quivered
with unspeakable shame. His look was
passionate in its entreaty for pardon.
Il do not ask you to forgive me. 1t
&c Il1a Nnul6 /
of you only one thing, to remember
when condemning me that the pas
sion which has just escaped my control
is a noble one and that it has been
long hidden
He spoke slowly. Her expression
grew gentle, although it lost none of
its seriousness.
1--WE will think no more of it, she
said, with a grave sweetness. And
now we must hasten or 1 will be too
late for the Salem train
Once on the train, Mrs. Dawson had
three hours of hard and bitter ref1ec-
ton to face. There are certain crises
in the lives of all of us when word,
a look, a gesture, is sufficient to aWak-
en- us to a full realization of some
wrong that we have been committing
with shut eyes and dulled conscience.
Mrs Dawson had reached the crisis In
her life. Her awakening was sudden
and complete; but it was crushing.
She sat with her burning cheek in
her hand, looking out of the window
| She saw nothing-nefther Wide green
fields, nor peaceful village, nor silver,
winding river. The events OF the past
two years were marching, panorama
like before her ach'tIg eyes. Her
heart beat painfully under it's burden
of self-accusation- Oh blind, 1oollsn'
| wicked!
She did not care for Darrach. He
was an attentive, congenial companion;
! that was all. But how wrong, how
loathsome now, seemed her assocla-
tons with him.
| She felt a great choke coming INTO
her throat. She detested her campaign,
| woman suffrage and most of all her
self as she had been in these two years.
| Suddenly she sat erect. L will give
it all up she said. II will go back to
my husband and my children, from
whom / have wandered, Oh, Cod, now
| far! Other women may do as uhey
choose shall make home again and
stay therein. 1 believe life will restore
my husbands health. We will try all
over again to forget, and just De nap
nv Oh, | have been walking IN my
sleep for two years! I have awakened
in timeLthank Godi Every act, almost
| every thought of these two years, IS
| loatfhsome to me now. But snail
atone. / shall make my husband and
my children happy.
MIR Dawson had spent a wretched
day. Upon reflection, he was nearby
ashamed of the way he had spoken
to his wife. Notwithstanding tllel[ ueeP
love for each other he felt that they
were growing farther apart each day.
He blamed himself bitterly. He even
thought of going down to the once
and apologizing; but he remembered
that she was going to Salem
Mrs. Dawson returned with a VIC
lent headache and a fever. She had
had a chill on the train. She took
cab and drove straight home. Her
DEAREST he said. She threw herse1
upon his breast and chung to him in
her old dependent girlish way that was
indescribably sweet to him..
II am ill. DEAR" she sobbed. 80 ILL
And oh. am so tired of it all! I have
given it all up. 1 don't want to be a
senator, nor a business woman, nor
even a progressive woman; just want
to be your wife again. [ want to take
care of my children and my home, and
| 7 want you to be a man again.!
"Why, God bless my soul!'' said Mr..
Dawson. He was looking down at the
| back of her head with the most amazed
eyes imaginable.
Mrs. Dawson went to bed without
her dinner. In the morning the doctor
came and said it was typhoid fever.
1t was six weeks before Mrs. Dawson
was able to get about the house and to
hear news of the outside world. Then,
one morning, Mr.. Dawson conveyed to
her with extreme delicacy and caution
the information that woman suffrage
had been declared unconstitutional and
had been abolished. He added that he
had considered it his duty to take her
! place and he was now running for the
Senate.
How lovely Of you, dearest" she
said with a sphynx-like smile.
Then she inquired for Darrach.
ooh, he went off on a wild goose
chase to Australia soon after you were
taken ILL.," said Dawson, lightly.
'.Oh," said Mrs. Dawson. And my
typewriter? Is he still with your
"Why-er-no," said Dawson. He
looked with deep attention at an old
Chinaman going along the street on q
trot with two baskets of vegetables
dangling at the ends of pole on his
shoulder. 1.-The fact isl didn't just
like him. He wasn't competent. /"
he jingled some coins in his pocket
.I have a very speedy young woman
era Miss Standish.'
"Oh," said Mrs. Dawson.
When Mr. Dawson started for the Of
five the following morning his wife fol-
lowed him to the hall door. She look
ed charming in her long, soft house
dress Her lovely arms shone out of
the flowing sleeves. Her hair was part
L ro1 n ir,fi1 A