| OCR Text |
Show r "' " " ' . . J' I My- JHofher-in-Law. j ti 8 BY JEfS'NY WREN. I ' ' ' K IT was hard to realize, as I came home j r ' J desolate and forlorn the day or Aiy t j. , iutlicr's funotrl, that I was alone in the world; that no longer my first im-j im-j ( pulse on entering the house must bo to j fly with quick stops to the library to see the handsome "head raised from his ' work of writing with some word of love on his lips, when now only an empty chair and soundless spacu hereafter would prove my greeting. His illness j had been so short, so sudden, that It almost seemed as though I should awaken from the frightful nightmare i v of the past few weeks and ilnd It all a ' dream, vivid but unreal. Only a fort night before he" had'been stricken down, . ; und I had sent in hot haste for my old practitioner, to find tin?' absent and I " a stranger in hin place. At first I felt regret, but when I saw pr. Phillips and j witnessed his earnest, skillful care, that feeling gavo way to congratulation and the assurancO that if human skill could t avail, he would bo saved. It was he i who told me finally there was no long er hope; he whom I turned upon with j qiick fury that he should dare assert ! thntmyfathcr'slifewasinnbsolutedan- , gcr, when in all the wide world we two were alone together; he who stood be side him nt the last, then, with firm, I gentle hand, drew me from the chamber ) ' of death and himself prepared the , Bleeping draught which sent restful 1 sleep to quiet my strained nerves. In ' my new sadness, my utter despair, he i came and went as of old, until it seemed as though a" brother's protec-1 protec-1 ' tion bad been olTered me, and I began to wait and watch for the hour when :j I should see him, to feel a keen disap- , . pointment If it passed without -him, I . until one evening, sitting alone by the low, smoldering fire in the first day of spring, I was roused by his familiar step. ! "Helen," he said, drawing a chair close b'esido me, "Dr. Edwards, you know, has returned, and my own pa- . tients in Philadelphia arc demanding my presence' among them. I have stayed already longer than I intended." ' J "' ".And you nov are going?" I ques--tioncd, while a black cloud swept before be-fore my eyes. . " ' "Yes," he answered, "but if you will let me, I am coming buck- I did not mean to tell you of my love just yet. I can hardly hope that in all the drear desolation which has overspread your life, loyo had found time to plant a single germ, but with mo it has been different. I have loved you from the first moment I saw you, and my fondest nmbition 13 to see you my wife. Do not answer me now; only when the birds Bing and the flowers bloom try ; to think they breathe a message from me, and when. I return in the fall, remember re-member my home will havo been made ready for you, and if you can come to my arms, they will open, oh, so gladly! to receive you." So he left me, and I let him go with no answer, for I did not know my own , heart. That it was love, beating at its ; portals for admission love which had J . made his coming so welcome, his going bo Bad, I could .not realize until he had gone; and then came only the long. ' brotherly letters, so full of earnest solic itude for my comfort, so unselfish in the careful guard ever shown in his own feeling for me, till the time drew nigh I when he was to come again. Then I doubt, uncertainly, all fled, and I knew my heart had passed from out of my 1 keeping. So I went to meet him, stand ing in the- open door of my. home as he en mo up the pathway, and in answer to his question as for n moment he held me I off while he looked straight into my i eyes: "Helen, is this my wife?" I ' .could only falter: "Yours forever- more," J . The succeeding week flew swiftly by. ! He suddenly grew Impatient of delay, I and declared ho could not go back to his work until I went with him. The thought of my loneliness without him urged mo to consent, and sq the days were filled with busy preparation, while in the evenings I sat by his side, content und blissful, while he told me of his home, of his widowed mother who shared it, and of the new, sweet daughter daugh-ter he was to bring her. Hut when all was over, when I had stood in my wedding wed-ding robes before the gray-haired minister, min-ister, and knelt to receive for the last time his blessing, when my husband's first rapturous kiss had been pressed JE upon my lips, fervent congratulations H offered by the few friends present at our quiet wedding, my wedding dress H exchanged for traveling garb, the long :, journey ut lust over, it was with a fe'ol-K fe'ol-K ingxf tired relief that tho carriage in K " the dusk of the evening drew up before V ' n hnndsonio house, and my husband "."'-V-1"?" i i" l.'.yl"".M .' IMI11 ' .. m.j j welcomed me to my home. ifut where"" was his niother? All day vision's had danced before my eyeu of two loving amiB waiting to enfold me, of a sweet, motherly face bending over me to imprint im-print the kiss of greeting on my cheek, of the whispered words: "Welcome, my dnught-r," sounding in my ear; but no"; tho dorr was thrown wide open by n r.crvant i i livery, but the lwndsome hall in it.t ln,;g vista presented to sight n-i other oiTv:;mnt&, and, to iv nnazement, I was hurried past tho elegant drawing-room, drawing-room, whero I caught sightof a cheerful cheer-ful fire burning on the hearth, and upstairs up-stairs into my own luxuriously furnished fur-nished apartments. ' "And how docs my bird like her nest?" questioned my husband, bending bend-ing over me with tender care as J sunk exhausted into n chair. "So much, Hugh, that 'she feels as though she must stay hero forever. May i I not have tea here to-night?" "Oh, darling, mother would be so dis-uppolnted dis-uppolnted not to see you I Come, change your dress and look your prettiest, that I may present you to her." Change my dressl Even to-night, in the quiet home circle, must I remove my dust-stained garb and go through the exertion of a fresh toilet ere my husband's hus-band's mother extended to me her welcome? wel-come? But I could not refuse, and when, my toilet completed, Hugh's proud glance of approval met mine, I felt rewarded. re-warded. Then he led me downstairs, and we entered the drawing-room together. to-gether. In the farthest corner a tall figure rose from an arm-chair, and in all the rustling dignity of velvet and lace approached me. "My wife, mother," Hugh said, while I felt a cold hand tnko mine in a passionless pas-sionless grusp. A kiss as if a fallen snowfloke had rested on my brow, and Mrs. Phillips fell back with graceful ease into the chair from which she had risen. . t i ,t' It was some six weeks before her birthday that I once heard her express a wish that she had a picture of her boy (for so she ever called Hugh), and instantly in-stantly n resolution' was formed in my brain. I had always had a talent for painting. Before my father's death it had been my delight and his pride, and I determined upon carrying n miniature of Hugh I possessed to an artist I knew well, and ask his assistance in transferring trans-ferring the likeness and palntinga portraits por-traits Perhaps I thought as my work it might soften her heart toward me. So the next morning I started out, and, to my Inexpressible delight, I found my desire feasible, and received the artist's permission to use his studio for four hours each day the hours I Inic'w Hugh would be away from home. It was not long ere I saw that Mrs. Phillips watched my coining and going with suspicious sus-picious eyes, but I, picturing her shamed look of surprise when she found my mission, went silently on my way until the picture was almost completed, and I had received the artist's congratulation congratu-lation upon my success, when, entering the housp Hushed and happy, I overheard over-heard her voice in the library addressing address-ing my husband: "Four hours every day, Hugh, she is absent. What can be her purpose? 1 told you when you brought a young, giddy thing into this house you would regret it. It i3 your duty to see where she goes and what she d'oes.'V But 1 could hear no more, ob, with flashing eyes and head erect, I entered the room. "Since I entered this house six months ago a happy bride, a joyous girl, I have met, madam, at your hands, with insults in-sults and scorn, which I have suffered in silence. As my reward you now try to tnkefrom mo the last thing left me my husband's confidence. What my mission has been you shall know tomorrow. to-morrow. Accept it as my gift the gift of an injured woman to a cruel injustice, nugh," (turning to my husband) "the same house no longer can hold us two. Choose between us!" and I turned and left the rqom. My husband, following, strove to qalm me, but In vain. "I will not live with your mother," I snid. "If you must have her share your home I will go." "Darling, I cannot ask her to leave it when old age is creeplug upon her. She does not know you yet. Wait! Have patience yet a little longer, and you will find your way into her heart, and once there, you will know how really warm it is, which sho conceals beneath a cold exterior." "He has chosen between us. HeVill not give her up." JVith thjs thought hugged to my heart for comfort, I saw him leavo me next morning with an anxious frown upon his brow, and I, quickly gntherlng together a few things, onlled a carriage and was driven rrtpidly to the depot from which I hod determined to take tho first outgoing train. My plans were 11 , formed. I would go to the house of my old nurse, who would care for me in ray coming trouble, and if I died there would be none to regret me, since even Hugh had given me up. lmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm "My buhe, my bonny child i " Oh, liow the words of motherly greeting fell on my heart as sho clasped me in her arms when I alighted at her door, and I told her in broken words as much of my story as I thought necessary., But as the weeks grew into months, and I spent long, busy hours in faphioning tho tiny garments the little stranger coming was to fill, softer memories began to creep into my heart, and a dim wonder as to whether I had let my pride gain too much ascendancy, and if Hugh really had given up his mother for my sake, could I still have loved him so well? So. drop by drop, the gentle dew of repent anco fell on my heart, and tear after tear upon my work, until there came a day when all was done a day when n child's cry broke for an instant upon my car as if a sound from Htfavcn had reached me, and then darkness closed round, and I knew no more. In the anxious time which followed I was aware of some one near me with Hugh's eyes, some one with Hugh's voice, nnd I would try to catch and bid rt stay, but in vain, until one morning the mists cleared up, and I opened my eyes to sec his dear face bending over me, but ho sealed my lips with kisses, as he murmured: "Not u word, my darling! We cannot can-not expect a woman's wisdom from a child, but our little mother must grov wise now for her baby's sake." Then, witli a happy, dreaming smile, L fell asleep again, his hand clasped close in mine. When 1 was stronger lie told me how he never hnd lost sight of me, but thought it best to let my own better self work out the end, and when ho whispered: "There is sn.ne one, Helen, waiting to seo you aomo ono who said no one could take care of Imby as she could. May she como in?" I gave glad assent; and when, a few moments later, a sweet,' motherly face bent over mine a face from which all the hard lines seemed forever fled, as her arms clasped close a sleeping infant, in-fant, and her gontlo voice whispered: "My daughter" in my ear, I could only clasp my arms around them both nnd answer: "Mother!" N. V. Ledger. |
