Camas Prairie chronicle. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1901-1917, 1907-02-08
CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VII.
Mr.. Baumgarten came softly forth from
his house in the brightness Of the early
summer morning, closing the door noise
lessly behind him, that he might not dis
turb his wife above. She was in delicate
health, and he had left her asleep. He
was on his way to a sick parishioner,
now lying in danger.
When Mrs. Baumgarten awoke, not
long afterward, she lay thinking of a
dream she had just had. So real and
vivid did it seem that at first she won
dered where she was, and looked round at
the familiar objects Of the bed chamber
In doubt.
"Why, 1t was only a dream !" she ex-
claimed. II am at home, and in my own
bed"
Presently she got up, and dressed her
self with trembling fingers. She was
weak, and languid, and hot; always in
fever now. Looking about for the coolest
dress she had, she put it on /; black and
white muslin. They were in mourning
for Mrs. Dane. She had died the previous
winter. Summer had come round again,
and it was nearly a year now since
Edith's marriage.
When she had quite misunderstanding
and reading and prayers-she sat down
in an easy chair before the open window,
letting the sweet morning air fan her hec-
| tic face. The sun shone in the blue sky;
the scent of newmown hay came from
a near meadow, the hum of bees sounded
drowsily in the heat butterflies futtered
across the green lawn from flower to
| flower.
As the clock struck s Mr.. Baumgarten
returned. he nodded to Edith from the
garden, came in, and ran upstairs, 1t
was their breakfast hour. II hoped to
find you asleep still, Edith" he said. II
wish you would breakfast in bed !"
"Oh, Ryle, / could not l am glad to
be up; bed tires me, think. Ryle," she
said, smiling, 81 have had such a lovely
dream"
Indeed! 1t is not often you dream.
| What was it?'
when Charlotte and l were children,
she used to tell her dreams of a morning
l felt quite jealous, because l never had
any to tell"
WELL what was this one?"
II thought l had a long, long journey
to take, and as l set out from the door
here and walked down the path to the
gate, l looked round and saw you In the
| parlor alone, don't know where l went,
or which way; it was all strange to me.
1t seemed as if l went miles and miles
and miles more than can reckon; more
than there are miles in the world. But,
oh the way was lovely. The air was so
| light and balmy that l seemed to float
| lonu in Tho =
ing flowers, sweeter and lovelier and more
brilliant than we can imagine out of
dream, grew on each side the way. 1t
seemed that l had never known before
what happiness was, what enjoyment
meant and it was all so vivid that when
l awoke 1 thought it was reality"
"A pleasant dream" remarked Mr..
Baumgarten. How did it end2"
1T had no ending. / was still gliding
along amidst the flowers when l awoke.
1t took me ever so long to realize that l
was in my own bed and had not gone on
that beautiful journey"
II hope the journey has made you
| hungry" he lightly said. Breakfast must
be waiting"
That dream occurred on Friday morn
ing. 1t was the last Friday in June.
On the Tuesday morning following, Edith
Baumgarten was lying in extreme peril
the doctors giving little hope of her life.
Mr.. Baumgarten was sitting by her
bedside, holding her hand in his his tears
were kept back, his voice was low with
suppressed grief. do not say we have
been happy my darling; say we are 1
cannot part with you there is hope yet"
There is none," she wailed-"there is
none. Oh, Ryle, my husband it will be
hard parting !"
She feebly drew his face to hers, and
his tears fell upon it. Edith, if lose
you, shall lose all that is of value to me
in life"
ITO be continued.)