Death of the Young Wife.

Evening Star, Issue 6808, 23 January 1886, Page 2 (Supplement)

Death of the Young Wife.

_ * The doctor has just told him and he. has gone into the little parlor and closed the door. All the room is suggestive of her who lies dying in the chamber above. Her bird is singing in its cage at the window as merrily as if sorrow were unknown in the world. The room is flocded with the warm sunlight, full of life and radiance, little in consonance with the desolate heart of the man standing there alone. Her birdp, her books, her lounging chair, the touch and design that make a home are hers. Her living presence seems to animate the common things, and makes them gracious and loving like herself. And it is only a brief twelve months since she stood there a bride, and listened to her husband's proud welcome to their home. Now she lies yonder—dying, dying. And he, how can he bear ill How do men bear in their undisciplined character the mighty shock of such a grief as this? Oh, if he could only lean his head on his mother's shoulder, and sob out his sorrow, as he used to do when a boy. But he knows of that unwritten law which forbids a man to cry or wear his grief on his sleeve for the daws to peck at. He must meet it alone, and Know how sublime a thing it is To suffer and be strong. And all the while the scalding drops of anguish are forcing themselves to his eyes, searing them as with a redhot iron, while he stands there trying to look in the face this awful intruder, who had come an unbidden guest into his house.

" Sbo wants you, she has sent for you," says one of the household), sobbing bitterly ; and he goen, wiih vague, mechanical steps, up the sairs to their room and into her presence. " Have they told you 1 Do you know V she asks in a whisper. " Oh, love, wo are going to be separated. God is taking me from you." " He cannot be so cruel," he fays bluntly and unreconciled, and he takes her in bis arms as if to defy death to part them. The hours wear on, the clock ticks in the death chamber: Forever—never Never—forever. He does not heed it: his eyes are fas'ened on that beloved face charging from its bloom and beauty iuto the ashen pallor which the thadows of the unseen forcast. Presently she oper s lur trouMed eyes and fixes them upon his haggard face. " Head to me, dear," *.he whispers faintly. He knowß what she wishes him to read. That ia oue of the beautiful intuitive qualities which made of their lives a perfect harmonious sphere—a congenial union, rich in love and rnu'unl faith and to which there can be no finality of death or limitation So ho brings her Bible and turns the, leaves in s arch of s me text of comfort, such as they have often read together. But which one 1 There are so many, and all are good. He is not compellt d to decide. The blessed Book opens to the most precious cne of all, that bus comforted so many home-sick heartp, thfsweetest of the heavenly mHdrigals : The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. (She repeated it af er him. At intervals she broke forth into snatc 1 et of i per ch : Though 1 walk through the valley Of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. '•' It is dirk in the valley—dark—dark " —he heard her murmur. " Ob, love, there shall be no night there," he answers brokenly, feeling how po'>r a comforter he is. He holds her band and she sleeps, and dreams such dreams as tho dying have, and Death go"s on relentlessly with his work. Her bird breaks out into a joyful strain of music i;i it* cige below; sounds of life come into the darkened chamber; watching friends are near; soon she opens her eyes, and there is a bright, glnd smile in them. "Jt is light bejond," she says, and sleep'* again. He does vob notice how cold her hand is grown ; how still the room is. Nor does he resist when they loosen his clasp and lead him away telling him with tearful pity that all is over. What is all over 1 The love that has blessed bis manhood with its crown of | completeness 1 The companionship that I made heaven and home synonymous terms? Are ended for ever? When he sees her again she is wearing her weddingddree.s e . Her soft pretty hair is arranged as she liked it best. Her eyes are closed and her lips unresponsive to his kisses. And over her bosom they crossed her hands " Conic away," they said ; " God understands. " Mns M. L. Bayne.