Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 9, Number 9, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 24 August 1878 — Page 6

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

WHEN THE GBA88 SHALL :1?r

COVER MET

•Wben tb« gran shall eorer me, vHealto foot, where I am lying When noi any wind that blows, gammer blooms nor winter snows, ^Shall wake me to our sighing

Close above me as you pass, "Ton will say, "How kind she was," Yon will say. "How true she was," When the grass grows over me. "when the grass shall cover me, sHolden close to Earth's warn bosom, is I When I laugh, or weep, or sing A Nevermore for anything:

Ton will And In blade and blossom, «Sweet, small voices, odorous, -Tender pleaders in my cause, That shall speak me as I waa—

When the grass grows over me. When the grass shall cover me! Ah, beloved, in my sorrow Very patient, I can wait— Knowing that or soon or late, There will dawn a clearer morrow When your heart will moan, "AJas! Vow I know how true she was Now I know how deal she was,"— -When the grass grows over me!

—Songs of Three Centuries.

OBITUARY POETRY.

la marked contrast to the ridiculous obit-

A lily broken by the rain, Before a single earthly stain

w"on

its velvet whiteness lain

A snowy bird that close caressed By the soft, brooding mother bres Dares yet forsake the sheltering

And straight, before its silver wings Have ever stooped to baser things, riles up to heaven, and flying sings. These and all other pure and mild And lovely objects undeflled, Ara types of what thod wert, my child 1

Scrlbner for September.

MOLLY.,

JULIA 8CHAYBR.

small clearing on a hillside, eloping qb from the little traversed mountain road to the forest, npon whose edge, in the midst of stunted oaks and scraggy pines stood a rode cabin, such as one Domes upon here and there in the remote wilds of West Virginia. The sun,

Rasingthe

just above tbo sharp summit of made Mountain, threw slant rays iotoss rugged landscape, which spring was touching up with a thousand soft tints. A great swelling expanse of green, broken at Intervals' Jadges, rolled off to the low

IUVUIUQ V*p great swelling expanse

in, broken at intervals by frowning «, rolled off to the low lying purple mountain ranges, whose summits still •warn in sunset light, while their bases were lost in deepest shadow. Over all, a universal hush, the hush which thrills one with a sense of utter isolation and loneliness.

The man and woman who were seated before the cabin door hardly perceived these things. What their eyes saw, doubtless, was the fair promise of the eernfleld which stretched along the road for some distance, the white cow with her spotted calf, and the litter of lively pin which occupied lnclosures near the cabin, and the tlnv baby, who lay blinking and clutching at nothing, across the woman's lap. She was looking down upon the child with a smile upon her face. It was a young and handsome face, bat there were shadows in the dark eyes and around the drooping lids, which the smile could not chase away—traces of Intense suffering strange to see in a face so young.

side the doorstep, and was lost in contemplation of the small atom of embryo manhood upon whtoh his deep blue eyes were fixed. He had been grappling for three weeks with the Overpowering fact of this child's existence, and had hardly oompassed it yet. 'Lord! Molly,' he exclaimed, his face broadening into a smile, 'Jess look at him now! Look at them thar eyes! Peole says as babies don't know nuthln. turned ef thet thar young un don't look knowln'er 'n old Jedge Wessmlnster hisseir. Why, I'm mos' afeared on him sometimes, the way he eyes me, ez cunnin' like, ex much e* tersay "rm byar, dad, an' I'm agoln' ter stay, an' you's jess got ter knuckle right down tew it, dad P' Lord! look at thet thar now!' And the happy sire took one of the* baby's small wrinkled paws and laid it across the horny palm of his own big left hand.

Se,welkin

1V1

1—•

as a nose. Hardly had the ventursome toseot settled when, without moving a muscle of his solemn countenance, that astonishing lufant, with one erratio, baek handed gesture, brushed him

away

KOVVVIIW) 1/lWolIwU UiUI vuuwaivu

Something like a smile distended the ture which was not lost slides uncertain mouth, and aomething who, as he whtoh might be construed into a win acted fo

She stopped abruptly and bent low orsrthe child. Sandy had ceased his contemplation of the boy, aud had listened to his wife's words with a look of incredulous delight upon his rough but not uncomely face. It was evidently a new thing for her to spsak so plainly, and^er husband was notunmlndfal of the effort it must have east her, cor ungrateful tor the result. •Dont say no more about it, Molly,' he responded, in evident embarrassment. 'Them days is part an' gonean' funrot. tea. Leastwise, ain't agoln' to think no more about 'em. Women Is women, aa' hex ter be 'lowed fur. I dont know ea twss more'n I end expeofc you bain' so poraly, an' the old folks dyin' an' yon takin* It so hard. IdontgofUr tersay es I aint been outed more'n wunst, but th«t*s over*n gone an' now, Molly,' he continued cheerfully, 'things is lookin' up. Easoon es you're strong agin, I reckon yell be all right. The Utile un'll kaep ye from gtttin lonesome an' do£*rn aperlted now wont he, Molly?' 'Yes, Sandy,' said the woman earnest*

Fm coin' to be abetter wife to ye than —I Jkcwe been.' Her voice trembled, and she stopped suddenly again, and turned her lace *^3he was a strangely beauUftil creature to be the wife oftWs brawny mountaineer. There was a softness in her voice in striking contrast to bis own rough tones, and although the mountain accentwas plainly observable, it was more modified. ....

He, bimselfL ignorant and unsophisticated, full of the half savage impulses and rude virtues of the region, wss quite conscious of the incongruity, and regarded bis wife with something of awe mingled with his undemonstrative but ardent passion. He sat thus looking at her now. in a kind of adoring wonder. •Wall be exclaimed at last,"bleet ef I kin see how I ever fur ter ax ye, an]' I'd alien liked yt ever thought goin' down to Richmnn,.w

The woman moved uneasily in her and turned her eyes away from his eager face but Sandy failed to notice this, and went on, with increasing ardor: 'After ye'd gone I missed ye power ftill I used ter go over the mounting ter ax after ye whenever I cud git away, _U k/tnr *TA was Art-

when thev told tn© how ye war en-

ovjQi

sary verses, sometimes genuine and some* an' Jivin so fine, it mo®' set me times spurious, that go the rounds of the -11— «».na»Hn' tjr h*«r pt. jiiim is the following really touching little yed poem, which we clip from th^Petroit Pre*

yeiselfaown thar, a arnin heaps

mne

ter hear ez a tellin' the more

ole myself, the wuss I got. An' when yoa corns back home agin. Molly, lookin' so white sn' mizzable like, an everybody said ye'd die, why, it most killed me out, Ho' sw'ar!"

I axed

an' I alnt

lolly, 'deed it did, I

Sandy did not often speak of those days of his probation but, finding Molly in a softened mood—Mollv, who had always been so oold snd reticent, so full of moods and fancies-he felt emboldened to prooeed. •Lord, Molly, I didn't hev no rest night nor day! Bob'll tell ye how bung around, an' hung around an when ye got a little better an' come out a lookin' so white an* peaked, I war all ofatrlmble. I don't know now how I ever up an' axed ye. I reckon I never would a done it sf it hadn't been fur Bob. Twas him 'at put me up tew it. Sez Bob to me "Mam's afesrd as Molly '11 go back to Kichmon' agin," an' that war more'n I could stand an' so I axed ^^andyi*face was not one adapted to the expression of tender emotion, but there wss percepticle mellowing of the irregular feature! and rough voice as be went on.

and ye said "Yes"

no call to be sorry I axed

e, an' I hope you ain't, puther—say, „olly?' and the great hand was laid on bet arm ienderlf. 'No, Sandy,' said she, 'I aint had no cause yet to be sorry of it. You've been good to me a heap better'n I've been to you."

Truly, Molljfriww softening. Sandy could hardly credit bis own bapppiness. He ran his fingers through the tawny fringe of his beard awhile before he answered.

I laid out to Molplead

ing earnestness in his voice, 'ye've done hankerln' arter the city, aint ye? Kind o' gettin'used to the mountings agin, aint ye, Molly?'

It was dark on the hillside now, and Molly turned her face boldly toward her hueband. 'What makes ye keep aharpin' on that, Sandy? I ain't hankered after the city—not for a long time,' and a slight shudder ran over her. 'Just put that idea out of your head, Sandy. Nothiu' could tempt me to go to the city again. I hate it 1'

She spoke with fiprce emphasis, snd rose to go in. Sandy, somewhat puzsled by her manner, but re assured by ler words, heaved a sigh and rose also.

The stars were out. and from a little patch of swamp at the foot of the hill came the shrill piping of innumerable frog's, and a' whlppoorwill's wild, sad cry pierced the silence. The baby had longsinoe fallen asleep. The mother tenderly laid him in bis cradle, and night and rest settled down over the little cabin.

Spring had passed into summer, and summer was already on the wane an August morning bad dawned over the mountains. Although the sun shone wsrmly down upon the dew drenched earth, the air was still deliciously cool and fresh.

Molly stood in the doorway, holding ms tne baby, whose look of pre* in her arms to« uawy.

OTnana. ternatural wisdom had merged itself •Jess look, Molly! Now you aint goin' into one of infantile softness and benlgntell me es thet thar band la ever goin' ity. .... .. 7r oua Vt/Osllvtf* Mm tin tf\r thA hfinft.

a climax, 'sling down a glass'o' whisky? fit of Sandy, who, as he went down the TWnt possible!' red, dusty road, driving the white cew At this juncture, an inquisitive fly lit before him, turned now and then tobetopon the small eminenoe In the center stow a grimace upon his son and heir. «fthe child's visage destined to do duty That small personage's existence, while

she was holding him up for the bene-

perhaps leas a matter of astonishment to his tether thsn formerly, had lost none

of the charms of novelty. He was a fine, robust little man, and cooed and chuckled rapturously in his mother's

The enraptured father burst Into arms, stretching out his hands toward AS 1 A I A

with flaming dusters of bloom—a pic it lost upon Sandy, out of ught of the head, and said to himcabin, shook

child's uncertain mouth, and aomething •ht be construed into a wink ——. contracted tor an instant hlssmall right self, as be bad done many and many a iIsma Kaftwsi

whereupon the ecstatic father made ring with haw-haws of appreciative mirth.

Molly laughed too, this time. 'What a man you are, Sandy! I'm I you feel so happy, though,' she oon1, softly, while a flush rose to her and quickly subsided. 'I ain't fcten much company'for ye, but I reck'n It'll be different now. Since baby eome I feel better, every way, an' I reckon

time before: •Blest ef 1 see how I ever got up spunk enough to ax her!'

Molly watched her husband out of sight, and then let her eyea wander over the landscape. There was a look of deep

paat may have bad its anguish, and its sins, perhaps, but the present must have seemed peaceful and secure, for she turned from the doorway with a song upon her lips—a song which lingered all the morning as she went in and out about her household tasks, tryins to make more trim and bright that which waa already the perfection o* trimness

When she hsd finished

and brightness, rk ie and window.

her work the morning was for advanced glanced hotly in at door and the sun

She bad rocked the baby to sleep, and now came out of the inner room with

the little deeper. As she stooiT thus she was conscious of a human shadow which fell through the outer door and blotted out the square of sunshine whioh across the floor, and a deep votoe •I'd tbank you for a drink of water, ma'am.'

lay said:

Molly turned quickly and the eyes ef the two met. Over the man's fine came a look ot utter amaaemsnt which ended in an evil smile.

Over the women's fsoe came a look so terrible, that the new oomer, base and hardened as he looked, seemed struck by-I^ Snd the cruel smile subsided a littie aa be explaimed: /Molly Craigie, by all that's holy!'

The woman did not seem to bear him. Shestood staring at him with increduidus eyes: and parted Dps, from whioh came ins husky whisper the words: 'Dick Staples!'

Then she struck the palms of her hsnds together and with aifcarp cry sank into a chair. The man stepped across the threshold and stood in the center of the room looking curiously about him. He was a large, powerfully built fellow and in a certain way a handsome one. He wss attired in a kind of hunting oostume which he Wore with a jaunty, thwWflil air. 'I swear!' he exclaimed, with a low, brutal laugh, as his eyes took in the details of the neat little kitchen, and came at last to rest upon the woman's white face. 'I swear! I do believe Molly'a married!'

The idea seemed to strike him ass peculisrly novel and amusing one. 'Molly Craigie married and settled down! Well, if that isn't a good one!' and be burst into snotber cruel laugh. His mocking words seemed at last to sting the woman, who had est smitten mute before him, into sction. She rose and faoed him, trembling, but defiant. 'Dick Staples, what brought ye here only God knows, but ye mus'nt stay here. Ye must go 'way this minute' d'ye hear? Ye must 'way!'

She spoke firmly but hurriedly, glancing down the road as she do so, The man stared blankly at her a moment. •Well, now, if that aint a nice way to treat an old friend! Why, Molly, you aint going back on Dick you aint seen for so long, ere you? I'd no idea of ever seeing you sgain, but now I've found yen, you dont get rid of me soessy. I'm going to make myself at home, Molly, see if I don't.' And the man seated himself and crossed his legs comfortably looking about him with a mocking air of geniality and friendliness. 'Why, it!' he continued, •I'm going to stay to dinner and be introduced to your husband!'

Molly went nearer to him the defiance in her manner had disappeared and a look of almost abject terror and appeal had taken its place. 'Dick,' she cried, imploringly, 'ob, Dick, for God's sake hear me! If ye want to see me, to* speak with me, I wont refuse ye, only not here, Dick—for God's sake not here!' and she glanced desperately around. 'What brought ye here, Dick Tell me that, and where are you stayin' "Well, then,' be answered surlily, *1 ran up for a little shooting, and I'm staying at Digby's. •At Digby's! That's three miles below here.' She spoke eagerly. 'Dick, you noticed the little meetin'-housejust below here in the hollow

The man nodded. *lf ye'll go away now, Dick, right away, I'll meet ye in the woods. Follow the path that leads up behind the meetin'-house to-morrow mornin' between ten and eleven an'I'll meet ye there, but ob, Dick, for God's sake so away, go away now, before—before be comes

The desperation in her voice.and looks produced some effect upon the man apparently, for he rose and said: 'Well, Molly, as you're so particular, I'll do as you say but mind now, don't you play me no tricks. If you aint there, punctual, I'll be here now see if I dont, my beauty.' He would have flung bis arms about her, but she started back with flaming eyes. 'None o' that, Dick Staples!' she cried, fiercely. "Spunky es ever, and twice as handsome, I swear!' exclaimed the fellow, gazing admiringly at her. 'Are ye goin'?'

There was something in the voice and mien which compelled obedience and the man prepared to go. Outside the door be slung his rifle over his shoulder and looking back, said: 'Remember now, Molly, 'meet me in the willow glen,' you know. Punctual's the word!' and with a meaning smile be sauntered down the slope, humming a popular melody a9 he went.

The woman stood for a time as he had left her, her arms hanging by her side, her eyes fixed upon the doorway. The baby slept peacefully on, and outside the birds were twittering and calling, and the breeze tossed the vine tendrils in at

door and window, throwing graceful, dancing shadows over the floor and across her white face and nerveless hands. A whistle, clear and cheery, came piping through the sultry noontido stillness. It pleroed ber deadened senses, and she started, passing her hand across her eyes. •God!'

This was all she said. Then she began laying the table and preparing the midday meal. When Sandy reached the cabin she was moving about with nervous haste, her eyes gleaming strangely and a red spot on either cheek. Her husband's eyes followed her wonderingly. The child awoke and ahe went to. bring himl •I wonder what's up now?' he mutter ed, combing his beard with his fingers, as be was wont to do when perplexed or embarrassed. 'Women i» cur'usl They's no two ways about it, they is cur'as! They's no 'countin' fur 'em no how, 'deed they ain't!'

At this point the baby appeared, and. after bis usual frolic with nim, during which bedid not cease bis furtive study of Molly's troubled face, Sandy shouldered his hoe snd started for the field. As he reached the door be turned and said: 'O Molly, I seen msn goin' scross the rosd down by the crick one o' tbem city fellers, rigged out in huntln' traps. Did ye see him?'

Molly wss standing with her back toward her husband putting away the remains of the mesl. •A man like that came to the door an' asked me for a drink,' she answered quietly. •He warnt sassy nor nothln' Sandy inquired, anxiously. •Ne—be wssnt sassy,' was the answer.

Sandy breathed a sigh of relief. •Them city fellers is mighty spt to be essay, and thia time o' year they'se slims prowlin1 'round.' snd bestowing rough caress on the baby he went his way.

That evening ss they sat together before the door Sandy aaid: •O Molly, Pm goin over ter Jim Barker's by sun up ter-moirer, ter help him out with his boein'. Ye wont be lonesome nor nothin'?' •No—I reckon not,1 replied bis wife.

Twont be the first time I've been here alone.' Involuntarily the eyes of the husband aud wife met, in his a furtive questioning look, which she met with a steady ease. In the dusky twilight her fece stowed pale as marble ana her throat pulsated strangely. The man turned bla eyes away there was aometlUng in that feee which he could not bear.

And at *sun up' 3 ndy departed.

Molly went about her work as usual. Nothing was forgotten, nothing neglected. The two smsll rooms shone with neatness and comfort, and at last the child slept.

The hour for her meeting with Staples bad arrived, and Molly came oat and dosed the cabin door behind ber—but here her feet feltered, and ate paused. With her hsnds pressed tightly on her heart die stood there for a moment with the bright August sunshine falling over her suddenly she turned and re-entered the csbin, then noiselessly Into the bedroom and knelt down by the deeping child. One warm, languid little hsud drooped over the cradle's edge. As her eyes fell upon it a quiver pusod over the woman's white nee, snd she lsld her cheek softly sgainst it, her lips moving the while.

Then she arose and went away. Down the dusty road, with rapid unfaltering stepe and eyes thst looked straight before her, ahe passed, and disappeared in the sbsdow of the forest.

When Sandy came home at night he found his wife stsnding in the door way, her dsrk braids foiling over her shoulders, ber cheeks burning, her eyes full of fire which kindled bis own slow but ardent nsture. He hsd never seen her looking so beautiful, and. he came on toward ber with quickened steps and a glad look In his face. 'Here, Molly.' said he, holding up to her face a bunch of dazzling cardinal flowers, 'I pulled theee fur ye, down in the gorge.'

She shrank from the vivid, blood-red blossoms as if he had struck her, and her face turned aahy white. 'In the gorge!' she repeated hoarsely, •in the gorge!'Throw them away! throw them away!' and she cowered down upon upon the door-stone, hiding her face upon her knees. Her husband stared at her a moment, hurt and bewildered then, throwing the flowers far down the slope, he went past her into the house. .. ., •Molly's gittin on her spells ag in,' he muttered. 'Lord, Lord, I war ip hopes ez she war over 'em fur good!'

Experience having taught him to leave her to herself at such times, be said nothing now, but sat with the child upon his lap, looking at her from time to time with a patient,, wistful look. At last the gloom and silence were more than he could bear. •Molly,' said he softly, 'what ails ye?'

At the sound of his voice she started and rose. Going to him, she took the child and went out of the room. As she did so, Sandy noticed that a portion of her dress was torn away. He. remarked it with wonder, as well as her disordered hair. It was not like Molly at all but he said nothing, putting this unusual negligence down to that general •cur'usness" of womankind which was past finding out.

The next day and the next passed away. Sandy went in and out, silent and unobtrusive, but with his heart full of sickening fears. A half-formed doubt of bis wife's sanity—a doubt which her strange, fitful conduct during these days, and her wild aud haggard looks only served to confirm—haunted him persistly. He could not work, but wandered about, restless and unhappy beyond measure.

On the third day, as he sat, moody and wretched, upon the fence of the corn field, Jim Barker, his neighbor from the other side of the mountain, came along, and asked Sandy to join him on a hunting excursion. He snatched at the idea, hoping to escape for a time from the insupportable thoughts be could not banish, and went up to the cabin for his gun. As be took it down, Molly's eyes followed him. •Where are ye goin', Sandy?' she asked. •With Jim, fnr a little shootin',' was the answer 'ye dont mind, Molly

She came to him and lsad her head upon his shoulder, and, as he looked down upon her face, he was newly startled at Its pinched and sunken aspect. •No, Sandy, I don't mind,' she said, with the old gentleness in her tones. She returned his caress, clinging to his neck, aud with reluctance letting: him go. He remembered this in after times, and even now it moved him strangely, and he turned more than once to look back upon the slender figure, which stood watching him until he joined his companion ana passed out of ught.

An impulse she could not resist com

Gyondthem,

lied her gaze to follow them—to leap till it rested upon the Devil's Ledge, a huge mass of rooks Which frowned above the gorge. Along theee rocks, at intervals, towered great pines, westber beaten, lightningstricken, stretching out giant aims, which seemed to beckon, and point down the sheer sides of the precipice into the abyss at its foot, where a flock of buzzards wheeled slowly and heavily about. The woman's very lips grew white as she looked, ana she turned shuddering away, only to return, again* and again, as the slow hours lagged and lingered. The sunshine crept across the floor never so? slowly, and passed at length away and, just as the sun was setting, Sandy's tall form appeared, coming up the slope. Against the red sky his face stood out, white, rigid, terrible. It was not her husband it was ftite, advancing. The worn an tried to smile. Poor mookery of a smile. It died upon ber lips. The whole landscape— the green forests, purple hills and gray rocks—swam before her eyes in a lurid mist only the fsce of her husbandthat was distinct with an awful distinctness. On he came, and stood before her. He leaned his gun against tbe side of the cabin, and placed the hand which bad held it upon tbe lintel over ber bead tbe other was in his breast, there was a terrible delibecation in all bis movements, and be breathed heavily and painfully. It seem to ber an eternity that that he stood thus, loaking down upon her. Then be spoke. 'Tbar's a dead man—over thar—under the ledge!'

The woman neither moved nor spoke He drew his hand from his breast and held something toward ben it was tbe missing fragment torn from her dress. 'This yer war in his band

With a wild cry the woman threw herself forward, and wound her arms about ber husband's knees. •I didn't go for to do it!' she gasped "fore God Ididnt!'

Sandy tore himself away from ber dinging arms, snd the foil prostrate. He looked at her fiercely and coldly. •Take your hands off me!' be cried. •Dont tech me! Tbar's tbetez mos' be made d*ar between you an' me, woman —d'ar es daylight. Ye've deceived me an' lied to me all along, but ye wont lie to me now. Taint the dead man ec troubles me,' he went on grimly, setting his teeth, taint him es troubles me. Pd 'a' bed to kill him myself afore I'd done with him mos' likely—ef yon hadnt. Taint that es troubles me—It's what went afore! D'ye heart That's what want tar know an' all I want ter know.'

He lifted ber up and seated himsdf before ber, a look of savage determination on his feee. •Will yd tell me

The woman boiled her feee upon ber arm* and rooked backward and forward.

'How can I tell ye—O Sandy, how can I she moaned. •Ye-kintell me in one word," said her hasband. 'Wnen ye come back from Richmon' thar wus them ez tole tales on ye. I hearn 'em, but I didn't believe 'em—wouldn't believe 'em! Now ye've only ter answer me one queetion—wur what they add true?'

He strove to speak calmly but the passion within him bunt all bounds the words ended ina cry of rage, and he seised her arm with a grip of iron. •Answer me, answer me!' be cried, tightening his hold upon her arm* •It was true, oh my God, it wss true!'

He loosened his grasp and ahe fell insensible at his feet. There was ndther tenderness nor pity in his face as be raised ber, end carrying her in, laid, her upon the bed. -Without a glance at the sleeping child he went oat again into the gathering darkness.

Far into the night he was still sitting there unconscious of the passing hours or the chillnees of the air. His mind wandered in a wild chaos. Over and over again he rehearsed the circumstances sttending the finding of the desd man beneath the ledge, and tbe discovery of the fragment of a woman's dress in tbe rigid. fingers his horror when he recognized the man as tbe one he had seen crossing the road near tbe cabin, and the fragment as a portion of Molly's dress. He had secured this and secreted it in his bosom before his companion, summoned by his shouts, had come up. He knew the pattern too well —he baa selected it himself alter much oonsideratian. True, another might have worn the same, but then the recollection of Molly's torn dress arose to banish every doubt. There wss mystery snd crime and horror, and Molly was behind it all—Molly, the wife he bad trusted, the mother of his child!

It must have been long past midnight when a band was laid upon his shoulder and his wife's voice broke the stillness. 'Sandy/ said she, 'I've come—to tell ye all. ie wont refuse to listen?'

He shivered beneath her touch but did not answer, and there in tbe mercifol darkness which hid their faces from each other, Molly told her story from beginning to end, told it in a torrent of passionate words, broken by sobs and groans which Shook her from head to foot. 'I met him in the woods,' she went on. •I took him to the ledge, because I knew nobody would see us there, an' then I told him everything. I went down on him an' I my knees to, begged of him to go away an' leave me for I couldn't bear to—to give ye up, an' I knew 'twould .come to that! I begged an' I prayed an' be wouldn't bear an' then— an' then—' she sobbed, 'he threatened me, Sandy, he threatened to go an' tell you all. He put his wicked fsce close op to mine, I pushed him away an' he fell—he fell, Sandy, God knowa I didn't go fur to do it!'

She stopped, ber voice utterly choked with agonizing sobs, but the man before her did not move or speak. She threw herself down and clasped ber arms about him. 'Sandy! husband!' she cried. 'Do what ye please with me—drive me away —kill.me, but remember this—I did love ye true an' faithful—say ye believe that!'

The man freed himself roughly from her arms. •I do believe ye,' he answered.

There was something horrible in his fierce repulsion of ber touch, in the harsh coldness of his voice, and the woman shrank back and crouOhed at bis feet, and neither spoke or moved again until with the first twitter of the birds, the baby's voice mingling, tbe mother rose instinctively to answer the feeble summons. She was chilled to the marrow, and her hair and her garments wet with the heavy dew. Sandy sat with averted bead buried in bis hands. She longed to go to bim, but she dared not, ana she went in to tbe child. Weak and unnerved as she was, the heat of the room overcame her, and sitting there with tbe baby on ber lap she foil into a deep, deathlike slumber. She returned to consciousness to find herself lying upon the bed with tbe child by ber side. Some one had laid ber there, and drawn the green shade close to shut out the green light. She started up and listened there was no sound but the whir of Insects and the warbling of birds. She arose, stiff snd bewildered, and staggered to the door. Sandy was gone.

The day dragged its mournfal length along and as night fell steps were beard

The day dra as nig approaching. Molly's heart gave a great leap, but it was not ber husband's stepit was that of Bob, her brother, who came slowly up tbe path, a serious expression on bis boyish face. She would have flown to meet bim, but she could not stir. Her eyes fastened themselves upon him with a look' that demanded everything.

Tbe young fellow came close up to his sister before speaking. •How d'ye, Molly, how d'ye?' he said, •eatingf himself beside ber, and glancing euriously at her white desperate faoe. 'What is it, Bob?' she gasped 'what is It? Ye can tell m$—I canbear it.' •I aln': got nothing much to tell,' be answered with a troubled air. 'I war thinkin' ez you mougbt hev sometbin' ter tell me. Sandy he come by an' said as bow he mus' go down ter Gordonsville, be an' Jim Barker on scoount o' the man ez fell over tbe ledge.'

The shudder whichpassed through the woman's frame Reaped Bob's notice, and he continued: •He sed ezhow be mus'stay till th' inquist wsr over, an he moughtu't Jbe back for a day or two, an' axed me fur ter keep ye comp'ny till he comes back.' 'Till he comes back!' she repeated in a whisper.

She hid ber face in her bands, and Bob, who, like Sandy, was used to Molly's strange wsys, did notqaestion ber rarther.

Dsys, weeks snd months passed away and Sandy King had not returned. Jim Barker, who had seen bim latf, knew only that he had expr*s**d an intention to remain a few «ugerin the town, and all further uuquires revealed nothing more.

Bob remained with his sister, and, after tbe first few weeks of excitement, settled quietly down in charge of the little farm—"until Sandy gits back," as be always took pains to dedare.

This stoutly maintained contingency was regarded by tbe scattered inhabitants of thst region with doubt and disbelief Sandy's mysterious disappearance excited muoh comment, ana gave rise to endless rumors and conjectures. Tbe current belief, however, was, that being himself a man of peaceable habits, he had found his wife's temper too "cantankerous." and had gone in search of tbe peaoe denied him bSneath bis own roof such an event having oecurved more than once within the memory of the oldest inhabitant.

Molly knew nothing of all this. She never left ber own door from the day of her busoand's departure, and Bobwarmed basrted follow had stood valiantly between his sister and the prying eyes and sharp tongues which aougbt to pluck oat tbe heart of ber mystery or apply venom to her bleeding wounds.

That something very serious had occurred, he, more than any other, had cause to suspect, but he respected his sister's reticence, and watched with secret pain and anxiety her Increasing pallor and weakness. The hopes he hsa at first cherished of Sandy's return died slowly out, but he hardly Confessed it, even to himsdf.

Autumn passed into winter, and winter into spring, and in tbe meantime, as Molly faded, the little boy thrived and waxed strong. He could now toddle about on his sturdy legs, and his prattle snd laughter filled the londy cabin. His mother watched his development kiw. Bob!' she would say, **ee how he walks, sn' bow plain he can talk! What'll Sandy say when he sees him

Then she would hold up before the round baby eyes a distorted, shsggy likeness of Ssndy, which he had onoe exhibited with great pride on his return from Gordonsville, and try to teach the baby lips to pronounce "Dad-dy." •He'll know him when he comes, Bob, see if he don't. He'll know his own daddy, won't he, preelous msn? An' he'll be here by corn planting, Bob, sure!'

And Bob, who always entered witb a great assumption of cheerfulness iuto allher plansTwould turn away with a sinking heart.

•Ef he's ever a comin',' he would say to himself, 'he'd better come mighty soon, or and then something would rise in his throat, and he could never finish tbe sentence.

The grsy brown woods bsd ohsnged to'tender green and purple, the air Esteemed with the sounds, and tbe earth with the tints, of esrly spring. The^Ss oorn was not only planted, but was already sending up sharp yellow-green spikes out of the soft rea loam, ana yet Sandy had not returned. f-

A strange woman had taken Molly's plsce in the household, for Molly could no longer go about—could hardly sit at tbe window, looking down the looking road or over the distant bills with her eager, hollow eyes. She bad never complained, and up to this time hsd refused to see a physician. And now when one was summoned, be only shook his bead in response to Bob's questions, and hinted vaguely at mental causes beyond his reach.

She lay for the most part witb closed eyes, and but for the heaving of her breast, one might have believed ber no longer of the living, so white and shad-ow-like had she become. She seldom spoke, but not a night fell that she did not call Bob to ber side and whisper, with upturned, anxious eyes: 'I reckon he'll come home to-morrow, don't you

One evening, after a restless, feverish day, she woke from a brief nap. Her brother was seated-by ber side, looking, a sadly into ber waxen face. She started' up with astrango glitter in her eyes, and seized his arm. '4 •Bob!' she whispered, 'he's comin'!' He's most here! Go and meet him, quick, Bob, an' tell him to hurry, to^ hurry, mind, or I shan't be here!' I

Tbe wildness in her face and voice d661)6D6d« •Go, I tell you! Quick! He's comin'!' and she would have sprung from the bod* •There, there, Molly.' said her brother, soothingly, 'Jess Isy right down sn' be I quiet, an'I'll go.' 4

She lay upon the pillow as he placed' her, panting and trembling, and be went1' hastily out, pausing, ss be went throughP the kitchen, to say a few words to the" woman who sat at the table, feeding the little boy.

•She's a heap wusser,' he said, 'an' out of her bead. Keep a watch over her^, while I go for the doctor.'

He ran quickly down tbe slope toward the field where the borse wss tethered. As he reached tbe road he saw a tallt form advancing through tbe dusk with rapid strides. Something In tbe gait, and outline set his besrt to throbbing he stopped and waited. The man came nearer. ''"S\ 'Bob!'- si tr t* 'Sandy!'

Sandy saw ana heard nothing, but went blindly on to tbe inner room. There was a glad cry? and Molly wssk in her husbsntrs arms.

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Tbe two men clasped bands. tm •Molly? said her husband, brokenly. For answer Bob pointed silently toward tbe cabin, and Sandy passed up tbe slope.: before him. As he entered the little kitchen tbe child stopped eating and\"r stared with wide open eyes at the stranger. •Dad dy! dad-dy!' he babbled.

Lt*

'I knew ye'd come!' she said. 'Yes, dsrlin', I'vs come, su'I'll never Tbe words died upon his lips, ./ for something in tbe face upon his breast told him thst Molly way listening to another voice than bis. jH- i. ii

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