The Wadsworth dispatch. [volume] (Wadsworth, Nev.) 1892-1899, 1897-11-20
HER RETURN.

DlSlllSSluS ulS SCI NuuG lOI tuc ulSut,
Jacques shut himself up in his library,
where a clear wood fire was burning
briskly, and slightly lowering the fame
of the lamp he was soon absorbed in a
book.
The little clock on the mantei struck
ten silvery strokes, and in the silence
that followed the ringing of the street
bell sounded shrilly through the apart
ment. AS he was not expecting any II
he did not stir. A second peal sounded,
md this time he arose, and taking the
lamp ven to open the door.
A dark form awaited him in the YES
thule. In the light thrown sharply out
by the lamp shade jacques recognized
his wife.
"You!" he stammered.
She did not move, she did not speak.
but stood silently waiting.
Come inside, " he said.
He led the way to the library, and
made her sit down in All easy chair, aud
then they looked at one another. 1t was
five years since he had seen her. One
evening she had left him. Coming
home, he had fmnd' the house empty,
with n note Oh the table-two lines OF
farewell hurriedly scrawled i'll pencil.
Then. as he did not question her. she
.old him i'll "a few words, without pre-
tense of shame, that. abandoned i'll her
turn, she Lad been alone since the
ing before; that she had spent the ell
tire day crying.
She had eaten nothing, had gone out
in the evening, wandered aimlessly
about, found herself at his door and
had come in.
Still he said nothing, and in a chill
silence five years Of their life passed be-
fore their mental vision, his five years
tor him and her five years for her.
When she had left him, when he had
found the house empty, it had been the
destruction Of all his joys. the shatter-
ing Of his happy life.
He had thought he could never re.
cover from the blow, and he had lived
On like a broken thing, feeling his rea-
son tottcr. That had lasted six months
"a year. Forgetfulness had come to
him as it III after all great griefs,
as it comes at the end of all things, and
jacques had settled down to the even,
satisfied life of an old bachelor.
She who had deserted him to run.
after what is thought to be happiness
had imagined herself happy. y queen,
for six months. a ~year-7-just the time
ne had spent in lamenting and suffer
ing.
But the awakening had been terrible.
In her turn she found herself abandoned.
"You are hungry" he said. And he
went to the kitchen.
There was some soup still warm and
the remains of a chicken, which no
brought in. He served her on Ii cor
ner Of the table, where ho' spread a nap
kin. and as .ihe ate he mado another
trip to the kitchen and brought back a
bottle of wine, from which he filled
her glass.
He watched her cat now, saw the col
or return to her cheeks, and, her hunger
satisfied, a sense of concout gradually
pervade her entire being.
She went on to tell him that she
lived quite near by in the same quarter,
and he was astonished that, living SC
near her, he had been unawar Of hel
existence.
Now she settled back oozily in the
chair, feeling relaxed, grown tender.
h found this armchair just rs she had
NOW it before; she found ali the
things about her in their old places.
Nothing was ch~anged-the hangings
were the same, the furniture, the orna
ments. All had a friendly air, IL, air Of
welcome.
1t was good to be in this home, Of
which she was taking possession again
after five years absence! For did not
the dinner on the corner of the table
attest their reconciliation? The lamp on
the table was the same thar had lighted
them when they kissed eaca other III
the old days.
1t was all at an end now-that equiv.
ocal existence, the misery and DISCUS,
IF those five years Of slavery She
would resume her place III her home be-
side the husband who ~forgave her; she