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EVERY SATURDAY.

A FOURNAL OF CHOICE READING.

Vol. II.]

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 31, 1874.

[No. 18.

chatted with them as if she thought of nothing else ; HIS TWO WIVES.1

but under all, her thoughts would go out in dumb quest

into the snow-piled freezing night. Something far out BY MARY CLEMMEK AMES.

in it seemed projected toward her, till it touched and CHAPTER xxix. ETHELINDA.

thrilled that " instinctive nerve” which to one school of

physicians explains the deep inward consciousness of It had been snowing for days. The rustling seed

unseen things that in the rarest organisms makes the vessels shivering on their shrivelled stems, the withered

distant nebulous fact a clear, close verity to the interior ferns, the sodden leaves of rusty brown, the purple

vision. Something far out in the darkness and the cold lichens, the scarlet berries, all were buried many feet

seemed to be drawing nearer to her. What was it? below the muffling snows of the new year. With great

She did not know. Nor did she speak of the nigbt difficulty the beginning of a road had been attempted

| again. She sat in silence and waited — waited with a through the woods. Jim Dare's oxen had dragged a

constantly quickening pulse — something, somebody, path through it only to see it half filled again with the

coming to her! great drifts that scurried before the keening winds.

“Isnum! If thar ain't sleigh-bells !” exclaimed Avalanches of snow rushed with muffled thud from

Evelyn with a start, “and — what is the matter? your battlement to buttress of the Pinnacle. Snow high as

face is jest gray and your eyes big as saucers — why the log-house itself walled it in. Through the hollow

what's to scare ye! "Tain't nothin' but sleigh-bells. squares that had been cut to admit it, the gray light | Hi Sanderson with a party from the Corners, like as not. crept feebly and intermittingly into the tiny double- | They don't feel no cold, all wrapt up in love and buffsashed windows. The cold settled down silent, pitiless, lo robes, I ken tell ye.” Evelyn seized the candle freezing, as long night crept after the short-lived day. I from the table and opening the front door held it out

As the darkness deepened, Agnes peered through into the blackness. It threw one fitful flare across the the window toward the woods. “How thankful I am

snow, Auttered in the wind, and went out. that no one need go on that road to night!” she said.

“ Pitch black, an' some un is comiu', sure as judg" Thank God, we are all well,” looking with grateful

ment. Jim, bring the lantern, quick !” screamed Evelyn. eyes over the little group. “ Nothing short of sickness

The bells siruck keen and clear now against the unto death could take any one out such a night into

metallic air as the sleigh emerged from the woods. By such roads. Even you, Evelyn, must own that it would

the time that Jim's lantern threw jis shifting bridge of be almost at the cost of life that any one would attempt light across the snow, two borses plunged through the the roads to-night."

half broken path up to the door, and a man's voice "Well, child, no one ain't a-goin' to 'tempt 'em. I through a fur muffler called from the driver's seat of a Still, I don't say as I hain't bin thro' 'em nights jest as

... don t say as I hain t bin throem nights jest as covered stage sleigh:freezin'. An' I never friz nothin' more ’n my nose; ' “ Evelyn® Dare, here's a passenger fur you, and that swelled and blistered and busted at the end erery

t the end every | a'most dead, I reckon!” winter at the same time for years after, an' I'm alive

• Hi Sanderson, is that you, a-drivin'?”. yit. Come, deary, don't be looking out the winder jest “ Yes : couldn't trust no one else with a sick woman for the sake of bein' lonesome. Go an' help Jim an' more 'n I could with a sleighin' party. Come along, Baby with their candy-pull. If you'll jest stir the but

Jim. You'll hev to help kerry her in." ternuts into their taffy, 't ’ill do 'em no end of good.”

“ In goodness' name, who hev you got !” and Evelyn Agnes did as she was bidden. By the kitchen table

rushed knee-deep into the snow to hold the lantern to Jim, with clean, buttered hands, was pulling with all his the sleigh door while Hi Sanderson and Jim bore from might a huge mass of congealed molasses, while Vidal it what seemed to be a lifeless burden, wrapped in bufwith rosy fingers was stirring the maple syrup bubbling

falo robes. She preceded it to the house, and once in a kettle on the stove. Into this, in due time, Agnes

inside she held the lautern before the death-white face cast the unctuous butternut kernels, and before she left

now visible between the furs. them the “ taffy” was cooling in the snow, and the

“In the name of Almighty God who be you?" she great platter on the table was spread thick with the

cried with consternation. golden sticks of crisp, twisted candy, which was the de

“ Ethelinda Kane!” exclaimed Agnes in hollow light of Vida's eyes, as the butternut sweets in piltered

tone, as the face emerged from the robes and the two quantities was discomfiture to her stomach and tinder men laid the motionless form upon the lounge. The to her temper.

dead-white face, the dead.wbite bair, could these be Agnes was interested in their “ candy-pull ” and

hers ! An old trick of the eyelids, the eyes the same

as of old, as they slowly opened, told Agnes who had * Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by H. 0. HOUGH

| come. As she saw she recoiled “The evil angel of

TOX & Co., in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

my life has reached me at last, even here,” she said in- | you know who this lady' is, my darling ?” she asked as wardly, and drew still further back.

her little daughter drew close to her side. “It'll be all right, I reckon, another time,” said Hi “ Yes, mamma; she is Auntie Linda." Sanderson, glancing from Evelyn to Agnes. He had “You remember her ? " performed what he mentally estimated as “a very “ Yes, mamma.” Vida did not add that she rememtough job” that night, and naturally did not want its bered also her Auntie Linda's last lesson was that Vida money value utterly ignored even in the consternation must love her better than she did her mamma. This which the new-comer had so visibly caused. Even recollection made the child's face harden as she gazed she understood what he meant, for she began to fumble now, for the one idol of her heart was her mother. But under her wrappings as if for her purse. This act perceiving the expression of her mother's eyes, she inbrought Agnes out of the past and into adjustment terpreted their meaning and obeyed it. Without a with the present.

word she stooped and kissed the convulsed face before “No, no," she exclaimed for the first time approach her. Its painful tension relaxed as the little girl did ing Linda and laying her own hand upon the restless so. The bloom of the young cheek touched the wasted hand under the robe. “Please pay Mr. Sanderson ope, and at the touch it seemed to smooth it into peace. now, Evelyn, and I will settle with you," she said, as Linda opened her eyes, stretched forth her feeble arms she turned down the buffalo blanket and compelled her and held the child to her fluttering heart in a passioneyes to gaze upon the form within. As she gazed, ate embrace. resentment died. Was this woman the lithe Linda “ You are like him — like him," she sighed, “ as who, when she beheld her last, was so full of acute, he was once, when I slaved for him, and went hungry subtle life? If she was abnormally alert and danger- | that he might eat Oh, how beautiful he was! I have ous then, she was vanquished now. Because she was come so far, so far to find you, and you are like him.” vanquished was she here ? Agnes did not pause to “ Like whom?” asked the child, lifting her face. answer the questions which rushed tumultuously | “Like your father, sweet one." through her mind. Down went the past deeper and Again a shadow crossed the lucent eyes. She redeeper beneath the rising pity that now overspread | membered her father's face as if it looked out upon her soul. Wrong, injury, cruelty, lay far back. The her from a distant dream. She knew it by the picture scathed hair, the sunken eyes, ihe pinched face, the which her mother cherished. Yet the thought of him hectic cheek, the short laborious breath were before was a mystery and a doubt. If she had a father, where her eyes, appealing to her helping hand and to her ten was he? Why was her mother and she alone? And der heart.

wherefore had this dreadful Auntie Linda come to Before the sound of Hi Sanderson's retreating sleigh make her think of such wretched things ? bells had died in the distance the freestones were heat. “ Your Auntie Linda loved you so much and took ing for Linda's feet. Warm woollen blankets were such care of you when you were a little baby, you will wrapped about Linda's attenuated body. Hot spiced nurse her and help to make her well again, won't you?" drinks, refreshing and gently stimulating, had stirred | said her mother, seeing the shadow and seeking to her benumbed pulses and stolen through her chilled disperse it. surfaces in a grateful glow. Even the glassy eyes “Yes, mamma, I will. I will help you as much as suffused into a mist of human softness. It was evi ever I can; and” — with a deprecating, downward dent that she was a very sick woman; but no less | glance — “and Auntie Linda.” apparent that the almost insensible condition in which In another instant the child was glad in her heart she arrived was the result of her journey and the that she added the last name, as she beheld with terror extreme cold upon a body already depleted by sick the distorted face and racked frame of the new-comer, ness.

who was seized with a paroxysm of coughing. Agnes Agnes, holding Linda's hands between hers, was held Linda's head, and Vida ran at Evelyn's bidding trying by the gentlest friction to revive their dull for the restoratives that might bring present relief. circulation. Linda's eyes looked up to hers with the None availed. Nature persisted in its own torturing old repelling trick of their lifting eyebrows. It re process of relief, and when it ended, Linda sank into called so much that Agnes involuntarily closed hersihe sleep of prostration. Before she was buried in its while her soft hands rubbed on.

oblivion, she was borne by strong, gentle hands into “I thought I could say everything when I saw you," Agnes' room, and laid on Agves' bed. Vida slept upon whispertd Linda at last, “ everything; and I can say the lounge in the outer room. Her mother kept watch nothing."

within at the foot of the sleeper's bed, by the little “Better nothing," said Agnes softly; then searing window where so many hours and days of her later life these words sounded unkindly, she added, “better noth had been lived. Here the later creations of her brain ing till you are stronger.”

and spirit had taken an outline and form. All, this "I shall never be any stronger; but I am fast getting moment, were as if they had never been. With the warmer, thank you ;” and as she withdrew her eyes woman on the bed all the old suffering had come back. they encountered Vida's gazing upon her from a corner | She sat face to face with her past. Insect-stings, petty with the blaze of the lantern falling full upon her face. torture, injury, insult, that imbittered her heart, darkWhat was it in that young face with its fresh, bright ened her youth, destroyed her woman's life, did they tints which arrested and beld the sick woman's gaze till not live again at the sight of this woman! Wherefore she shook with a spasm of tears? What, but its intangi | had she come? Wherefore? ble likeness to the face of the man who had made her | The spasmodic breath, the death-struck face, told existence, and for whose sake she had been ready to wherefore. “She needs me,” said Agnes' heart softly destroy her soul ?

-"needs me. Where are they? Of all on earth “Don't !” said Agnes imploringly. “Don't! I beg why should she come to me to me, who have the of you. You will kill yourself. Vida, come here. Do I least. What have I? What can I have that she wants ?” “Forgiveness," whispered the spirit, “ pity,' “ What made you come, Linda ?” charity that is love." And her soul above its wreck “ Remorse." of life cried for help that it might still have strength to "Oh, Linda !” aid another whose ruin was more utter than her own. “ Remorse, remorse, remorse! Do you know what

As if help could come down to her from out the it is like? It" — bending forward with a hissing whisvastness of the spheres, she drew her curtain and per – “it is hell! There is no other hell. I am sure pressed her face against the pane to look up into the of it. I don't know where it ends, but it begins here," night. Lo! The great hollow of the firmament was and she struck her heart. ablaze with red, fleecy flame. The curtain of gray was “Linda,” said Agnes calmly and earnestly, “ you are wi:hdrawn from the immaculate earth, and its inviolate not strong enough to bear any excitement of feeling, snows throbbed and blushed rose-red beneath the cor- The slightest will bring on that dreadful cough. Let uscating glow of the overhanging heaven. Above, on the past go! Let it all go," she said with visible emoa field of molten white, advanced and retreated the au- tion. “ We cannot bring it back, we cannot change it, roral hosts. Armies gleaming in prismatic hues, with we cannot ever forget it. But we can forgive it. We streamers of green and rose, violet and gold, far afloat, | can forgive it, Linda.” were marshalling toward the zenith. Giant figures « Can you forgive it?” rushed onward like clouds driven before the wind, yet “Yes. Now I can say yes with my heart and soul. only to disperse and to fly back with trackless speed I am not sure, not sure that even yesterday I could bare and banners amain into the infinite azure from whence said so without a single pang of reservation. I am so they came. Through the ever-shifting phantasmagoria / human, I- I loved him so much, Linda. But now shone the steadfast stars. Ariadne's Crown was set in that I see you, I forgive everything, everything; and silver nimbus ; Cassiopea's Chair was panoplied with if I have ever wronged you by even a thought, may violet lights; Capella, red and lurid, looked forth from you forgive me, and may God. But we must not talk a yellow aureola ; spears of fire shot through and through about it. Even I am not strong enough for that — the “mild influence ” of the Pleiades; while the blaz- and you, it will kill you. You must not.ing arch of the zenith cast its projecting splendor south-' “ I will,” and the thin lips closed tight as of old. ward till it spread like a veil of enchanıment before “ I carne here to talk. If it kills me, let it. It is the the eyes of Orion.

only chance of righteous death left to me. It's my last Was this phantasmal commotion but the outermost chance to cast off this load — this awful load here ;” and throb of an omnipotent solar storm that moment raging | she again put her hand on her heart. more than niiety millions of miles away? Did it flash “If you could know what I suffered when I did not from that central sphere to her vibrating sight in the know where you were, when I thought that I should twinkling of her eyelid ? Then it was not difficult to never know, you would be glad now that I have this discern in matter “the promise and potency of all ter- / chance to cast my burden off.” restrial life," in matter thus quickened, poised, and “How did you find out, Linda ?” upheld by unerring law and omnipotent Love! “And “ By Mary Ben. And she would never have told what are we?” she asked, looking inward upon the me,- for I had met her many times before and she gave sleeping women on the bed. “What are we but atoms no hint, - but she saw how I felt, how I looked ; she of that matter kindled by a spark of the Divine Flame? | knew it was my last chance, and told me. And Capheld by immutable law, and saved by illimitable Love!” | tain Ben brought me to Boston. It was a dreadful And human passion, human sorrow, even the mighty night; but the waves were smoother than the railroad. ache of a human heart, seemed to dwindle before the I thought the motion of the cars would kill me, but it significant blaze of elemental splendor. No less the did not. I was to live to reach here, and you. Why morning dawned low and gray. There was the opaque don't you ask me a single question ?” sky. There was the wintry earth. There was the “I cannot think of one that is not too full of pain, leaden atmosphere. There was the racking cough. Linda, to us both.” There was life, — as it is, and there, waiting but al “ Pain ! I expect pain. What else have I ever had little farther on, was Death.

on earth? I like it, compared with remorse. You can - Why did I run the fearful risk of such a journey never know how much I did to hurt you, to injure you. now?” repeated Linda in the comparative respite of | That's what I've come to tell, so I can die easy.” one easy hour, as folded in a soft flannel wrapper of “Don't, Linda ; I'm afraid to hear it. Perhaps, after Agnes', wrapped in shawls and propped by pillows, she all, I could not bear it. I might not be able to forgive leaned back into the pale sunshine which later in the you, Linda. Than that, I would rather never know day stole into Evelyn's little front window. “I knew what I had to forgive.” I must come now, or never. I had just learned where "If you know and don't forgive, the burden will be you were. I kuew I should not live to see another yours. Till I confess and ask forgiveness, 'tis mine. I winter ; no, nor through another spring."

can bear it no longer. I must roll it off. You must “ Don't say so,” said Agnes from the depths of her take it. You are full of life. I am almost dead.” pitying heart. “ The journey in such weather was “ Forgive me, Linda! It is only when I think of enough to kill you. But you have survived it, and | him, that I fear I may not be strong enough to fornow — when the south wind comes, the sunshine, and

give.” the wood flowers” —

« It is only when I think of him that I know I have “I shall go," said Linda without emotion. “I know sinned enough to curse my soul forever !” it. Now I am here I can say I wish it. Not but what “Oh, Linda, why didu't you leave us to each other? life looks pleasanter to me than it has” — since I lost | We were everything to each other at first! How could him, and knew it, she thought; but she said — “since you come between us? He was all I had ! ” you went away. But I am done with it, done; I know | “How could you come between us? He was all I

had, — all, all, all," and the sunken eyes flamed in their

it.”

sockets. “ Didn't I nurse him when he was a baby? “I did. I was given over to the devil. Where do Didn't I beg food for him when he would have starved, you think I found them ? Under the blotter, between else? Didn't I worship him as a god, and drudge for it and his desk-cover. They were so thin, they made him like the slave that I was, — only that you, with no perceptible rise in the thick paper, yet I felt them your soft eyes and soft voice and soft hands, when | under my finger-ends. Of course I was searching. mine were as hard as horns, might lead bim away from Something was going on, I knew, and I was determined me into the moonlight under the maples at Ulm, while to know just what it was — for my own ends. She I sat and waited and waited alone, or followed you alone? never could have married him if it had not been for me. How desolate I was. How I hated you. How I vowed | I told her so. Her thanks were, when she got him, that I would avenge my loss ; that I would work your she turned me out of doors." woe ; that as you took him from me, so he should be “ Linda, do you realize the full import of what you are taken from you; that if I had him not, neither should telling me - how it wrings my heart to sit here and you.

| listen to it?“ Was there no difference, Linda ? He was like a “Yes, I do. But I must tell it, and I must tell you. brother to you. He was my husband. I loved him I can't die with it all in me, can I? I must confess. when I was a little girl. I never dreamed of taking I am not a Catholic, to go to a priest. If I went to a him from you. I would have been willing, glad that thousand, I could not roll all the burden off till I he should be your devoted brother always."

came to you. “ Brother ! You never knew, you never can know, “I felt full of triumph when I saw you go down the what he was to me! He was everything. I wor- lawn path with Vida that night. Of course I saw you. shipped him. My life began in him and ended in him. I put my poison on the bureau. I was not so stupid I had no other thought. I was glad to be his slave. I as not to watch the effect. I knew at tea that you had would have done anyıhing he told me to do, no matter read the letters. How still Vida was, how sofily you how wicked — because I loved him. I would do any- went out; but I heard you. I watched you till your thing, be anything, but give him up. Yet I had to give figure was lost, down by the Sound.” him up — at last. It killed me.

“ Did you feel no compunction, no pity, Linda ?" “ He was never the same to me after you went, ' “ Not then. I was too busy securing my end; too even before he married her. She would not have me hopeful of gaining it. Fool! In spite of her, I did in the house when she was married, but it was not all | not believe that he would marry. I thought that he the thought of her that made him shrink from the sight never could ; that the law would prevent. Her lover of me. I made him think of you. I knew it. I wished | he might be, but I-I would be the mistress of his him reminded of you when I saw what power she had | house, with the power I wanted over him. I soon disgained. You were never a match for me, not in my covered that if you staid away he could get a divorce way; she was. She could not conquer me, but she in two years. Then I depended on her aversion to could kill me -- by inches.

marriage. It didn't amount to a straw, in the end. It “ Her power was not all of love. He loved you, I came that my last chance was to make peace with her. always knew it, loved you all that he could love any I told her about the letters, as if my only motive in woman. He was fascinated by her. You know how doing it was to get you out of her way. vain he was. Think what it must have been to him to “What do you think she said ? She looked me be so flattered and followed by such a woman — 80 steadily in the eyes and answered in the sweetest voice, pretty, so rich, so tempting every way. She beguiled I understand you perfectly. I read your face the first him the more, because she was fascinated by him. I time I saw it. I felt sure that there was no end to the really think she was at first. She got over it ; too late trouble you made, and always made, between Mr. and she thought, for she had married him, and you know | Mrs. King. Now I can find more agreeable employ. she never intended to marry any man. But her powerment than watching you. You know what I mean did not go with her fascination. She had too much when I say that in the whole world there is not a house money for that. Think what that money brought him ! big enough to hold you and me. You must go. You Everything that he wanted most — that he had always shall have all the money that you need, but live where wanted most. And with his temperament all that I am you cannot !' splendid ease was the dearer and the harder to give up “It was then he chose between me and his pleasure. because he was not born to it, and had wanted it all his . It can't be helped, Linda,' he said. “We are not deallife more than anything else. When he had to choose | ing with Agnes now, but with a woman whose slightest between me and his pleasures, he chose his pleasures. wish has been a law ever since she was born.' He would have been false to himself if he hadn't.”

“I spurned her money - I hated it. And yet the “I don't think that I understand you,” said Agnes. time came at last when I could not live without it - or “I never knew you to be in the way of his pleasures, his; he took piry on me, and always sent it in his own

name. I went back to Ulm to my trade; but at last “ Of course I never should have been if she had con- I could not work. Yet it's not three months since I sented to live with me. But when she declared that stopped.” I should not stay in any house where they were, he “ You were not able to work three months ago!" was compelled to choose between me and what she gave said Agnes with compassion. him. He knew very well that she would not continue “No, I was not able to work one year ago; but I to give it if he set his authority against her will. Alie did. The gnawing at my heart (I have a heart) was thority! He never had any authority with her! I worse than all the pain in my lungs. I did not want deserved better treatment of her. I sold my soul to to think of you. The more I tried to forget you the work out her ends. 1— put those two leiters on the more distinctly you came back, till at last you -taid with bureau that made you go away!”

me all the time. If I shut my eyes, I saw you; if I “ Linda!”

I opened them, I saw you. I saw you in the light, I saw

Linda.”

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you in the dark. As I grew weaker I had one thought him ? Could you look upon her hour by hour, see her only, how I had tried to injure you."

| possessing all you desired, possessing your idol — the “ You tried to help me once, Linda. I should have husband, the child, the home, all hers, while you stood died in that fearful sickness if it had not been for your without, tolerated, but not desired, endured, but not nursing."

needed, and not feel your heart harden within you to “Yes. But it was my instinct for nursing, rather hate ? If I could have nothing, why should you have than any desire that you should live, that made me do everything? You shall not,' I said. Would you not it. I brought you back to life about as a cat does a have said it? I said it, and I did it. And I have lived mouse, to have one chance more to maul it.” . to repent, and am here. When I came to see her, to

“ Linda, you could not have been so deliberately know her, then I realized how little you had been to cruel!”

blame for anything that I ever endured. Then I real“ Yes, I was. Just as I loved him, I hated you. I ized how cruel I had been to you — how wicked. I wanted to harm you because you had taken him. If have been a wicked woman; I know it; I might have you had not, I should never have meddled with you. been a better one if I had tried. I was too wretched to You'll never know in how many ways I harmed you. | try. Life had wrought me a bideous wrong, I thought. I used to give him false impressions about you. I | I wreaked my injury upon the innocent. knew just how to do it. I knew him better than he “ It was all for the want of a little love. Think knew himself. I could touch a spring that would | what it would have been to you, in all your life never, change the whole current of his thought and feeling, never to have been truly loved once. What would it and he never dream what did it. So I harmed you all have made you !." and the woman's voice went out in the time. You knew you were harmed, but in how one long wail of anguish. many ways you never imagined. You would have “I will love you, Linda, as long as you live," said had some trials, no doubt, if you had been left alone; Agnes, taking the white face within her tender bands, any woman would, in being his wife ; but it was I who the tears from her tender eyes falling upon it as she destroyed your married life. It was I who prepared | bept and kissed the cold forehead and then the quiverthe way, and made triumph not only possible but easy | ing lips. to Circe Sutherland. I did it I did it.”

« Vida!" she called; and the susceptible child, as she “I have prayed over and over that I might be shown entered the room, feeling the atmosphere about these wherein I erred, wherein I might have made all differ- two women, and moved by the sight of their tears and ent,” said Agnes. “Of some things I am certain. If I especially by the attitude of her mother, went straight had been less sensitive to his careless moods, more to them, and stretching her arms about both, said: sunny, less silent and sad, less severe in my mental “ Dear mamma! dear Auntie Linda, I love you too." judgment on him, things would have gone better with Thus the old life was buried beyond the possibility of us, I feel sure now. Then I was too young, too weak | resurrection. to know.”

Athel Dane found a new object of interest in the “ You were not perfect,” said Linda. “You moped | log-house beneath the Pinnacle, a woman sick unto too much — took everything too much to heart, that is death, who was yet unreconciled to fate, and who certain; but if you hadn't — if you had been any- faced eternity with a stoical apathy more appalling thing, everything that you were not, under the same than fear. conditions you would have been no match against such | “She has loved and suffered much, and has been a nature, experience, and purpose as mine.”

most unhappy. Show her tenderly as you can the • What makes me sorriest is to have you say “pur dawn of the Hereafter,” said Agnes to bim with a pose,' Linda. The being overcome of evil I know all voice full of tears; and this was the only allusion that about; but the purpose, the fixed, cruel purpose to she ever made to Linda's past. Thus with gentle eyes work another's harm I cannot understand. If you and tender voice the rector of Dufferin, into whose would only not say that, Linda.”

breast it seemed had come the heart of a little child, 6 I must. · Understand'? You will never understand! | talked with this unfortunate daughter of earth, of the Can you understand a whole life that has been one long final transition from death unto life which the Father hunger for love never satisfied ? What do you know grants his beloved children. He helped her to see about such a life ? Nothing. Do you know what it that she would not die in dying, any more than the is to long with the first longing of your childish heart plants die that wither in the later summer and shake for a home - a true home; to grow gray, to die, yet out their seeds to send them flying on the wind, to never to have one! Do you know what it is to cry in light and spring and blossom again in the heart of your inmost being for a child, your very own; cry to another summer;” that God's Hereafter would be hear a baby voice say mother, to feel baby lips cling- | granted her for love and peace no less than his Now. ing to your own, to feel that there is something in the If in solemn unction he intoned with her the church's world bone of your bone, flesh of your flesh; to cry prayers for the contrite, with enkindled vision he for this child in silent anguish — to see it, all these, pointed out to her the promise of help, growth, and another's — never, never yours?

fruition whose harvest awaits the justified beyond the “Do you know what it is to love one with your first sowing of these brief and stormy earthly years. consciousness, to nurse him with almost holy hands, to Many and many an hour of peace stole in unaware go hungry for him, to slave for him, to bear poverty, | between the hours of weariness and pain. Linda ignominy for his sake, to sin for him, to live for him, breathed in a new atmosphere of forgiveness, love, with no thought or desire in which he is not, only to see trust, and of tender pity. Her last days were her best bim go farther and farther froin you, till wholly lost ? days, to a degree of content that but a short time beOnly to see him possessed by another, living a life with fore she would have believed impossible. Aihel Dane her in which you have no share; to know that while had been sitting long by her bedside one day, when he is all the world to you, you are next to nothing to | Agnes entered the room. As she met his eyes there

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