Richmond planet. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1883-1938, 1899-07-08


peaOtirm mouse OF my n,rs5--1- as I
much OF a tomb as his first wife had 4 |
playground; and others STILL that l 4
was working my way TO the heart OF /
the father through the love OF the !
child. This gossip came TO me in frag- !
ments; some from the old housekeep- |
er. who had familiar footing every !
where. others from the careless
tongued few who visited me from time ,
TO time. But they did not move me.
Sometimes, as | frolicked with the
child, May. l would be conscious that
my husband was watching me closely.
But l had no time and less inclination
TO interpret his glances. l had become
mis- wife. as he had asked me to. Wife,
what dead. hollow word 1t was to
mel
But one sultry August night. as we
sat on the piazza together. the little
one with her shining golden head rest
ing upon my bosom, he said to me, let
ting his voice slide down to that low,
deep tone to which IL always descend
ed when he was unusually earnest:
What if the child should be taken
away from you. Elzabeth2"
L opened my eyes widely upon him,
and held the golden head more closely
to my breast.
Taken. Mr.. Huestoni" said.
What If God should take the sunshine
from us2"
He smiled. quietly. and turned his
head away so that / could not see his
features plainly. Did be feel that his
question was destined to be the sub
stance Of prophecy 1 was not easy
or happy after it. Day nor night l did
not allow my child from my sight.
Dear Godi did / stifie it with my mad
love?
The next week she sickened-and
still another week and she diedi Her
life was strongly bound in mine. and L
prayed the Father to take us together.
| But, no. mine was torn-she was freedi
All, l was mother. then. The beau
tiful crown which l had. fitted to my
| brow was every bit that OF motherhood.
In my desolatiou knew and felt il.
'Oh. my Cod" cried, in the agony
| OF my heart, she is all that l love IN
| on the earth-spare her!"
1 felt the strong clasp OF my hus-
bands arms about me, as 1 spoke. 1
| turned about and looked him fully in
the face. His eyes had a strange light
| in them, but his features were calm
and still. What did he know Of a par
ent's love? 1 said in my heart. What
was the white-faced babe, with its pitt
full, dying cry Of Mammal mammal"
to him.
Don't hold me" said, wrestling my
| self from his arm, my heart is break
| ingl"
And mine, Elizabeth"
| He paused. and buried his face in his
hands, while / raised the little wasted
darling in my arms. 1 was clasping
death with her; it was stronger than
i; it took my light. and l was left in
darkness.
The days were long that followed
| that night. The terrible shock
/ aroused me from the lethargy in
which I had been. The clear light OF
death showed me the spot where was
standing; showed me how deeply l had
wronged the man whose name l bore.
But what could do? He had not ask
ed me for my love-only to be his wife;
as though that word did not imply all
that was true, pure and holy OF the
heart. What could l do? The ques-
ton haunted me for weeks, and l NOV
ed about silent and spiritless
The loss OF little May will kill
her!" people said, as they looked upon
my blanched face l wished that /
could believe them.
The weeks went away, and October.
the month OF golden mist and haze,
came down silently upon u.s. On one
OF It's brightest mornings I went into
the library and seated myself by the
window which overlooked the garden.
did not know, at frst-not until I
was drawn by the strong magnetism
Of his gaze-tAat Mr.. Hueston wac but
few rods from the house, busy with
his plants. OF late / had learned to
avoid him, but on seeing him there /
did not move, only watched him from
the low window-seat, wondering what
A1.Ak 4 d n
face SO often. At last he threw down
his gardening hoe and came toward
me. My heart leaped to my throat 1
thought that no common words were
at his lips waiting for utterance.
Elizabeth" he began, coming close
to the open window, so near that his
eyes looked directly into mine, tell
me. please dn vow love me?" Some
thing In his manner moved me exceed
!ngly. / tried to speak, but the words
tainted upon my lips. Tell me.
truly" he urged. still keeping his eyei
fastened upon mine.
Was l to blame If he forced the an
swer from me? / could not, would not
tell him salsehood, and so 1 said, as
firmly as / could:
Il am afraid not, Mr. Hueston. You
never asked me to, and"
And what?" he asked, almost fierce
ly. clasping my hand until thought
ne would crush it.
Il thought you did not care for love,
sir" I added.
Who will ever be able to tell wheth-
er or not you were right in your con-
lecturer" he said, dropping my hand
and walking swiftly away.
Looking after him, l could but echo
the word ''Who?"
| After that Mr. Hueston and I were
almost as strangers to each other.
Sometimes days would pass that did
not see or hear from him. When at
| hnme he traatad me with a cold sind