The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1910-04-08

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llsilvery. misty grayness, where any
glory might lie hidden only we ses
it not. Now L have come so far as
! this, think l like that best"
so far as what. Carry?" Some
thing cold and chill seemed to come
over them like a cloud. at is grow
ing chilly; you ought to come indoors.
my love-"
Yes, presently. have always
been fond of the lights-like baby;
but look the other way. You would
say at first there was nothing to be
seen at all; but there are all the
shades of grayness from one tint to
another. and everything lying still.
putting out no self-assertion, content
to be in Gods. hand. And so am /,
Edward.
Yes, my love"
quite content. I have had every
thing, and and nothing. The heart
of it has always been stolen from me,
all the lights put out; but the dark is
sweet, too; it is only dim, dim, not
discernible-don't call it dark"
Garry; whatever you please,
dear"
Edward, do you know what this
means-the peace that passeth I'M
derstanding?"
Carry, my darling, you break my
heart. No-how should L known"
II think do. she said softly. at
lies upon your heart like the dew, yet
nothing to bring it, no cause, thing
that is without reason, what you
would call irrational altogether--that
passeth understanding. Edward, IL
ever you think afterward, remember
that told you. think that l have
got it wanted other things, but
they were not given me. I begin to
think that this-is the best.
my dearest, let me carry you in; it
is getting quite dark and chilly"
"You are tired of my little sermon,
Edward" she said, with the faint,
tender smile which he OWNED rather
than saw.
Tired? Of anything you may
say or do? But you must not be
longer out in night air. Come, Carry,
let me lift you.
Whether her mind had begun to
wander, or il it was provision, or
what moved her, no one could ever
tell. She resisted little, putting her
hands on his arm. @You must not
forget" she said, "to give my love to
Tom"
Beaufort called loudly to her maid,
who was waiting. i" It is too late, too
late for her to be out! Come and
take the cushions" he said, in. the
sudden panic that had moved him.
"And my little Den, she said, smy
little Den-they will perhaps as they
get older-Edward, I am afraid feel
. little faint.
He took her in his arms, his heart
sinking with sudden panic and blind
terror. as if the blackness of darkness
was sweeping over him. But they
succeeded in getting her to her room
and her bed, when she said good
night and kissed him, and dropped
sweetly asleep as they thought-but
never woke again. They found her
In the morning lying in the same at
titude, with the same smile.
Thus Lady Car ended the tragedy
which had been going on unseen, un-
known to any one-the profound, un-
rivaled tragedy of her life. But SO
sweetly that no one ever knew the
tragedy it had been. Her husband
understood more or less the failure
OF her heart over her children-her
son-but he never even questioned
that it was he himself that had given
the first and perhaps the deepest
blow; though not the coup de grace,
which had been left for Tom.
Poor little Janet was summoned
nome from the merry house to which
she had gone. where there were many
entertainments going on. She was
reused out of her fatigue of pleasure.
out of her morning sleep after the
ball to be told that he mother was
dead. They thought the girls heart
would have burst. The cry of
"Moyer, Moyer!" her old child's cry,
sounded to those who heard it like
something that no consolation could
touch. But to be sure, her tears were
dried. like all other tears, after
awhile.
The End.