The Dupuyer acantha. [volume] (Dupuyer, Mont.) 1894-1904, 1897-04-22
same" He said this to see if she would

account for her presence.
The living can only see the dead as
they were in life," she returned. "You
sold the farm, didn't you?"
Mr. Janeway felt as if a reproach lay
in the observation. Eyes, l sold the
farm" he said. 81 needed the money to
put into other investments"
Il worked hard on that place." she
said, crossing her hands-very rough,
worn hands. 81 worked very hard there
those years. tried to save all I could,
Maddy."
You were a good wife, Sarah," he
replied; land both of us had Jul bur-
dens, I guess"
And it was my money that bought
the farm-you had nothing when you
came counting me, did you, Maddy?
And you said that my being thirty
years old and you being just of age
made no difference"
Yes, l suppose l said that, and I'm
sure a always tried to be good to you"
he said in answer to that %unspoken re-
proach that seemed to lie behind her
spoken words. II tried to treat you
WELL"
The money that came to me Just be-
fore l died from Uncle John must have
been a help-I left it and the farm to
you, Maddy." Her dull eyes seemed to
force him to acknowledge his debt.
"Yes-yes-Sarah. l know that I owe
much to you. Without your help and
money l should have had a much hard
er time getting on my feet. Yet l think
should have succeeded in any case"
Mr. Janeway could not forbear offering
this tribute to his self-esteem. "How-
ever, l G gratefully acknowledge your aid,
Sarah"
You have another wife now, Maddy,
and children" she said. But l was
first. I believed in you, and 1 worked
for you, oh, so willingly. I knew that
you were different from mel knew
that you had hopes that stupid Sarah
could never understand. I knew that l
was your companion in your work, but
not in your hopes. l knew that we
were growing further apart every year
that we lived together. l knew that
while l was getting to be worked out
and middle-aged, that you were only
coming to your prime. I knew that it
was best that l died when I did-be-
fore | came to be a drag on you. Yet,
Maddy, before her and your children, l
think you ought not to shame me, for
was your faithful wife-the wife of
your youth, and gave you all l had to
give-my money, my love, my toll"
Before Mr.. Janeway could answer she
was gone and he sat alone.
The next day, however, he took the
old photograph downtown and ordered
for it a gorgeous frame. When it was
returned he hung it in his new library,
where it looked strangely alien between
a st. Cecilia and the Arabian Falconer,
bought at the i%nstigation of the archi-
tect.
Florry, with a child's quickness, no.
ticed the fine new gilt frame that sur
rounded the ugly, good face. What
have you done to the lady?" she asked.
Aren't you going to pack her away,
like mamma said?"
mo, the picture is to stay here. Do
you remember who I said it WASP"
1eS-ll Vas your nrSt Wife,
Mr.. Janeway took her on his knee.
"Florry," he began soberly, when l
was a little boy 1 was very poor-as
poor as the Galts'-a family celebrated
in the town for ill-luck and poverty.
Il went to school when I could, but
that was mighty little, for 1 had to
work most of the time. Sometimes I'd
oot most dicnnura oo1 HIT bol " ..1
just the same. One year l worked for
a man named Deering; he had a daugh-
ter, and when she found how much I
wanted to go to school she lent me some
money-money she had saved by pinch
ing and scraping. After awhile her
father died and she married me. / had
nothing n she owned a good farm.
but she married me. In six years she
died and Jeff everything to ME. She
gave me my start. She was a good
woman, and believed in me when no.
body else did. The other night papa
dreamed that he saw her and talked to
her, and it made him feel ashamed that
he had seemed to forget her." Mr.. Jane
way felt that he was making a hand
some reparation, but he was a man who
aimed to do right-it was necessary to
his self-esteem.
The child wriggled from his arms and
walked away with IN awed glance at
the picture.
Mr.. Janeway stared at it musingly.
"Are you satisfied now, Sarah?" he
caught himself saying. "Pshaw-that
dream holds to me STILL" he exclaimed,
but anyhow I've done her Justice"
And though the architect declared
that the photograph quite spoiled the
effect of the library and begged that it
might be banished to some back room,
Mr.. Janeway was firm, and the dull,
good face of his first wife kept it's place
between the st. Cecilia and the Ara
bian F%alconer.
"Reminiscences in Tennyson.
In a recent issue of the Temple