Year: 1865

I will not oppose your determination. l
loved your mother, Minnie, and should
be very glad to keep you with me.but not
if your duty lies in another direction
Consider the subject we'll, dear, for your
husbands sake ana your own," said this
good woman as she went softly out, leav.
ing me to the repose I SO much needed.


But her words dwelt in my mind.


For my husbands sake" Had he
considered me when he outraged my wo-
manly pride and self.respect ut was
his own work, his own." I repeated over
and over again. The downy bed was a
couch Of thorns to me. Rest would
there be any more rest for me in this
world +?


On the eighth day Mrs. Lander asked
me what decision had come to.


Remember, Minnie, it rests wholly
with yourself Will you 60 or stay?"


81 will stay"


1t was all settled then. I was to be
her companion and confidential attendant,
with sundry privileges and liberal sala.
~.


Mrs. Lander travelled a great deal,
and Of course l was with her constantly.
We journcyed leisurely through the coun.
try. seeing the best that was to be seen
wherever we went, and in the following
summer made the tour of the watering.
places.


So the months passed on. but l never
saw or heard from John. It was not to
be supposed that would hear Of or from
him. He doubtless thought me dead-or
worse. Very likely did not care which.


Only once in ali that weary time a
thought: Of what might have been broke
down the bulwarks Of pride. It was
while driving through the suburbs Of o
great city that l passed tiny cottage,
nestled among trees and Towering shrubs.
While l was looking and admiring, a
pretty young woman ran out with baby
in her arms to meet her husband. I saw
the young father kiss the child, and pass
an arm about his wife's waist as they all
went into the house together. 1t Was .
dreary thought that in all the years to
come, no baby's innocent head would ever
lie on my bosom as its rightful resting
place.


Ia the course of our wanderings We
came, Mrs. Lander and l, to L.
the city to which l had once come a
bride; the city from which, six months
afterward, l went from in the silence ct
the night, an insultel and degraded wife,
-insulted in my love, degraded by the
vile suspicious Of my husband. The very
streets had a cherry, familiar aspect. like
the face Of an old friend, and u great
longing took possession of me to look once
upon the house that had been Eden tc
me in days gone by.


1t was at twilight of lovely day in
early autumn, thai, closely veiIed, took
my way toward the block that l remem-
bered so we'll. Groups Of children were
playing on the pavement as l passed
slowly along. Some of them | knew but
most were strangers. But the house, the
house-my heart gave a great bound and
then stood still as | caught sight of it.
1t did not seem changed in the least.
The same blinds were at the windows, the
the same vines trailed over the white
wall, the same chrysanthemums bloomed
in the yard.


The front door stood open. but no one
was in sight. Inv"luntarily as passed,
| reached out my hand to break of a
branch from the rose-bush that leaned
over the fence. l heard the low whine
of dog, patter of feet on the gravelled
walk inside, and bounding over the top of
the gate, which was closed, came Ponto,
wrigglng himself into unheard of shapes
in his joy at seeing me once more. |
could have hugged the dear, faithful old
fellow but that would inevitably have
attracted attention, so l only patted his
head, and called him by name in low
tone, while he jumped about and upon me
wild with delight.


A gentleman came to the door, and
seeing the strange behavior of his favorite
fastened to call him off and apologize for
the supposed rudeness. Though my veil
was down. and it was growing dark,
knew John instantly. There was the
same firm tread, the same kingy face
and his voice had the old, sweet tone as
he begged my pardon for the annoyance
his dog had caused me.


He was not accustomed to act SO, ht
said land if tho offence was ever re-
peatcd he should be chained up"


1t was evident enough that he did no
recognize me, which was not strange, al
he could not see my face, and | had mo-
spoken yet.


There is no need OF apology" re
piled, trying to steady my voice so tha
it should not betray me. "Ponto did no
know that he was doing any harm" 4"


saw his face whiten; saw the startled
eager look in his eyes as he took one stel
toward me and held out his hands.
dared not trust myself farther. and will
hurried bow passed on.


Two days after, sitting idly in my room
at the hotel, with the evening paper il
my hand, paragraph under the head o
Accidents" caught my eye. 1t read:
: "A large building, in process Of erec
ton, OH the corner Of Main and Walnu
streets. fell to-day, burying several per
sons in the ruins. Two workmen nance
Williams and Roberts, were killed in
stantly. Their bodies have been takeI
out and given to their friends. Two 9th
ers. Mr.. George Millbank and Mr.. Johl