River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1904-07-07
- TOGETHER ~

III aIFdlu LIaC Woulu DC 30. OuC
you've really no idea"
"When Peter says he wants to go,
pa'son, then I'll be ready to go too. But
| I'd lever die here than live there"
"You must think of Peter, too, Mrs.
Goodwin. He's getting almost past work,
| and if that rheumatism gets worse
don't see"
"Yon stuff you brought him done him
heap o. good, he says" but there was
a curious hopeful challenge in her voice,
4 almost as though she doubted it herself
| and desired his confirmation.
cit viii do him good if he takes care
of himself; but nothing will cure him If
he's constantly out in the cold and
damp"
cay" she sighed YEARLY, for how was
! it possible for shrimper to keep out
| of the cold and damp?
"You talk it over quietly with him,
/ Mrs. Goodwin. We only want to make
you both as comfortable as we cam"
cay, know Yo're very,~kind. But
I dunnot want to leave my man."
He sat and talked with her for time,
unburdened himself, just a trife awk-
wardly, of small packet Of tea and
smaller one of tobacco, and finally took
| his leave.
AS he slipped on his clips and turned
| his back to the wind and his face to-
wards home, he saw sturdy, bent fig
ure, cut off apparently at the knees, and
with it's arms full of ragged pieces OF
wood, ploughing slowly towards him
| through the drift.
The oncomer, head down to the gale,
did not see him till they met. and so
unexpected was the sight of a visitor
| that some of his spars fell and were lost
in the swirling sand.
''Hello, Mr.. Godwinl" cried Rev. Eus-
! tace as he came to a stand, pulled his
hat down into the nape of his neck, and
| leaned up against the wind.
"Eh! Why, it's pa'son;" and the old
man turned and stood with his back to
| the wind also.
'You shouldn't be out on day like
this, man. How's the rheumatism"
"Fair to. middlin', sir. Yon stuff you
gev me done it a heap O. good. Twill
be all right soon, do think"
"Not unless you take care of it. I've
| just been up seeing your, wife"
cay. That's main good O. you, sir
She don't have none too many visitors"
"She's looking very frail, Goodwin I've
been advising her-asking her Don't
you really think, Godwin"-it was not
| easy-"don't you think it's time you left
this place and went where both you and
| she would be better taken care off"
"You mean tn house, pa'son?" and
the grizzled face, all crusted with sand,
turned more towards him.
"You'd have everything"
"No, pa'son, l don't, an | tell you for
| why. We've never bin parted, Mary an
me, 'cept yon time she had tn rheumatic
fever an went to tn hospital. It nigh
| killed her-not tn fever, but th' hos
pital an tn bein' away from mean
| it nigh killed me too. If we go to tn
house we've got to part. We've lived to-
gether all our lives, pa'son, an, please
| God, we'll die together; an If it was
this night I'd thank Him, so longs we
went together"
'I know, / know" said Rev. Eustace;
"but you'd have every care there and
very much more comfort"
"'Cept one another, pa'son, an that's
more'n 'em all put together"
'Well, welll You're as bad as she is.
You must think of what's best for one
another, you know"
"We've been thinl1in' it for fifty years,
pa'son, an we know" and as he stopped
to pick up his fallen timbers, which the
sand had thoughtfully covered up out
of sight, a spasm of pain twisted the
| gnarled face, and Rev. Eustace saw it in
| spite of the sand-crust He stopped also,
and they unearthed the pieces of wood.
| He was piling the last one into the old
mans arms when the merry northeaster.
| twitched off his wide-awake and whirled
it away along the flats. He gave a
whoop and started after it, and the old
man turned and went on to the cottage.
81 met pa'son," said the old man as
he went in with his load of firing
Gay, he were here" said his wife.
She did look frail--very frail His
old heart gave kick. For her sake,
perhaps, it would be better His earn
ings were very small; their. fare was of
the scantiest; and they would likely be
smaller still and scantier. None but
4 himself knew the agonies he suffered
in winning even that small living; the
creaking of his rusty joints, the cease
less achings in the marrow of his bones
day and night, but worst of all when
he was out with the net pushing through
the bitter shadows after the few hand
fuls of shrimps which frisked between
them and starvation. Perhaps-after
all He looked at the patient white
face.
Glass;" he said gently, "pa'son were
advisin' me to 90 into tn house. What
dost a say? como give thee all
would"
His voice broke. So very bitter
thing is it for a man to have to- confess
that he cannot provide as he would for
one dearer to him than himself. Though
it be not through any fault of his own,
though there be no shame in it, the bit.
terness is there, and all the greater from
! the fact that a clean and sober life has
left him capable of feeling it so keenly,
and offers him neither palliatives nor
reproaches.
He was by her side looking down on
her, and her eyes smiled up at him. He
dropped ON his knees beside her, heed
less of the creaking of the rusty joints,
and put his rough, sandy arms around
her.
'Iassl lassl" he cried, "thou'rt all the
world to me. I como let thee go. I
see thee always as thee vast, Mary,
! bright an shinin'-shinin' hair an shin
in eyes, like the sunshine runnin' over
1 the sands to meet me. Oh, my lass! my
lassl"
The gentle face shone with a great
glory as she tried to stroke his hair
with her hand-a hand which had be-
come so strangely soft with its five
years of undesired idleness. In her sud-
den exaltation of spirit even the agony
of movement was forgotten, and her