Only A Dream.

Otago Witness, Issue 1596, 24 June 1882, Page 26

Only A Dream.

Tho day was close and sultry, but she of whom I write felt it not. Reclining wearily in a low, easy chair, with a sullen, discontented expression, that deepened in intensity as she raised her eyes for a moment at the sound of an approaching footstep. Seated in the cool recess of a' bay window, a small table drawn up to her side, on which lay a volume of ' Burns,' a few flowers carelessly dropped, one of which a lovely damask rose, she was pulling to pieces leaf by' leaf regardless of the litter. By-and-bye she would arise, shake out her skirts, ring for the tired maid-of -all- work to remove the leaves, and wonder wearily what she would do next. Everything in the room bespoke taste and culture, from the elegant trifles, the costly vases filled with the choicest flowers, to the artistic arrangement of the furniture, for, be it known, the minister's wife never allowed her servant to meddle with this the cosiest room in the house —the minister's study. Mrs Gillespie was wont to deolare * that it set her teeth on edge ' to enter a room after a servant had been 'tidying upj' that it was simple an impossibility for one of them 1 to arrange an antimacassar. If it were a vase of flowers, then the vase would be up-ended, and as a matter of course wrong aide 1 out. '■ Then the chairs set straight and stiff against the wall. All this was very tryinfe to her nerves or her temper. But ministers wives'are not supposed to havejtempers. Why, I wonder? And was it some such trial to her nerves she was suffering from now that caused that discontented expression to mar the beauty, 6f her paleface, for very fair to look upon-was May Gillespie |So thought her hus band as ha entered the room and came towards her. She had taken up her, book, and was apparently deep in its pages, as he came behind and laid, his fingers caressingly on her downcast eyes. She shook her head impatiently. ' I wish you would not startle me so.' , ' Did I startle you, May? lam sorry,' he said gently. But May was absorbed in her book, and made no reply, and her husband Btood, his hand resting lightly on the back of her chair, a look of pain, amounting almost to anguish, in the sad blue eyes. So well he loved her, this kindly old man, so tall and straight, with delicate fair skin, and long, silken beard, and fair hair, what he had of it, for the minister was bald, a circumstance his foolish young wife was inclined to resent. He had married late in life a girl some twenty years his junior, and the union had brought him more pain than pleasure. They had one little girl, nearly two years old, whom both parents idolised. She was at play just now outside the window. Her merry (little laugh drew Mr Gillespie to the window, where he stood with an amused smile, watching the lovely creature as she dressed her doll with flowers. Little Rosie was seated on the grass with her lap full, her little, chubby hands trying vainly to arrange them round dolly, the bonny, blue eyes intent on her task. ' May,' he said suddenly and decidedly, ' I intend to have that well covered in at once.' Q' Why V she asked languidly. 'It is dangerous. If by any chance it should be left uncovered, and little Rosie trotting about everywhere, I am afraid to think of what might happen.' 'Then don't think of it,' was the somewhat aggravating reply, as she resumed her reading. Mr Gillespie's eyes flashed as he half turned, but, recollecting himself, he said with an effort, 'I must go to the " Wilderness " this afternoon — will you come? and take Rosie ; — it will do you both good.' ' Take Rosie if you will, I would rather stay at home.'

' Nonsense, May, you must come, get ready while I bring the buggy round.' But May only settled herself more comfort' ably in the chair as she glanced at his retreating figure, and when, after the lapse often minutes, he returned equipped for his drive, his wife was as he had left her. He bit his lip to stop the impatient words, and then the momentary struggle was past, his gentle nature reasserted itself, and coming forward, he said, ' I am sorry you won't come, May ; sorry that you are so self-willed. Were you less so you would be happier. Good-bye, dear, take care of little Rosie. I will give her a ride to the gate ; you can see her from here.' And Mr Gillespie with his baby daughter on his shoulder went out. She saw him place her carefully in the buggy ; she saw his bright happy smile as he jumped in beside her, and_ heard Rouic's merry laugh as he placed the reins in her wee hands and drove slowly down to the gate ; now Rosie must go back and not tease mamma. 'Good-bye my pet,' he :vaid, leaving her inside the gate. ' Papa will soon be back ; go straight homo ;' and from the window mamma watched the tiny toddling figure, noting dreamily every little detail ; the pretty bine frock and white muslin pinafore with sash and sleeve button? to match, the dainty little shoiw and white socks. 'How pretty my darling is, : she thought, a,4 the summer ineeze lifted the golden curls from the flushed face and azure eyes ; ' so like her father,' she thought, wiLh something like a panj-T ; e ">]k<i him \» every vny,' nhr> murmured softly, as she nob-cud ho if the little girl wandered to and fro to gather the flowers her

hands were already full of, for Rosie, unlike most children, never destroyed flowers. Nothing kept her amused so long, and Mr Gillespie noticing this, allowed her to gather his most cherished blossoms. Everything bright and beautiful had a charm for her. She would sit on the step of the verandah, her lap full of flowers, gazing at the beautiful sunset, until Mr Gillespie, with a feeling he did not care to analyse, would take her for a walk, a ran, anything in fact, anything that would make her laugh the sweetest music in the world to his ears.

Tho evening was closing in, and Mrs Gillespie still sat on ; she had fallen into a deep reverie, when slight sounds caused hor to start with an undefined dread and remember Rosie. ' Rosie, Rosie,' she called, and went out on the verandah, ' Rosie !' But Rosie was nowhere to be seen. She walked quickly into the garden where she had last seen her, her voice growing sharper, ' Rosie, Rosie !' She is in the house, she thought, and turned back quickly, entering one room after the other. ' Susan, did you see Rosie ?' ' No mum.'

•' Help me to look for her then. Where were you all this evening,' she asked sharply, and without waiting for an answer, ' find her quick for me.' ' Find her yourself,' muttered Susan sulkily, 'you've nothing else to do. ' Then she softened as she heard the anguish in her mistress's voice. ' Rosie, Rosie,' and all at once it flashed across Mrs Gillespie's mind : the well ! With a horrible fear clutching at her heartstrings, a dread that in its intensity almost deprived her of reason, she staggered rather than walked to the well. With an overpowering sense of relief she noticed as she drew near that it was covered ! Merciful heaven ! No, the cover was drawn half aside. Another moment and she was on her knees beside it; covering her face with her hands she murmured brokenly, ' I cannot look, I cannot.' For some moments she remained thus, and then, with a sort of desperation she dropped her hands and looked no, instead she shrank back trembling pitifully, her heart whispering the worst. 'I dare not, oh! I dare not,' she murmured with blanched lips. In silent, agonising appeal her heart went up to the all-seeing, all-merciful Father, and then a great calm descended on her anguish - stricken heart. With a steady hand she pushed aside the cover and looked with distending eyes into the depths of the well at littlo Rosie, her baby daughter—for one long moment she gazed, taking in every detail. Aye, even in that dreadful moment she noticed the little shoes and socks as the child floated on it's back, she noticed the golden curls floating on the water, the ribbons, and above and beyond all the blue eyes so dreadfully staring into her own, so full of a deepening horror, as with a loud scream she flung herself madly downwards. ' May, May, what is the matter,' and Mrs Gillespie slowly opened her eyes, looking with sobs, and trembling from head to foot with nervous excitement, to find her husband beside her, to feel the tender clasp of his strong arm, and little Rosie sitting contentedly at her feet ; with a picture book in her lap, She had strayed, and finding mamma asleep, like the wise little thing she was, sat quietly on the soft carpet turning over the leaves while mamma dreamed that dreadful dream. She looked up in astonishment as her mother caught her in her arms, sobbing and laughing over her in the wildest hysterics, Mr Gillespie, thoroughly alarmed, yet not knowing what to do, stood looking helplessly on little Rosie, meanwhile stroking her face with her little hands until her emotion spent itself ; even then as she lay weak and exhausted on the couch whereon her husband had laid her, and looked around in glad thankfulness, and with Rosie clasped tightly in her arms, it was some time ere she could realise that it was only a dream. M. A. Y.