SHE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2762, 20 February 1907, Page 73

SHE.

By E. Gladys Habvet.

(For the Witness.)

She is gone! Ahead there is nothing but loneliness; behind there is nothing but regrets. She is dead ; the flowers ara scarcely withered upon her newly-mown grave; and I sit here and let her sweet memory pervade my whole being. Ah, me! how my pathway was strewn with blunders — heedless blunders for the n*Dst part ; for I never took notice of the passing hours or what they were carrying in their train. I was so sparing of words of appreciation — I was so chary of words of praise. Alas! It seems only yesterday that I kneeled with her, my fair girlish bride, at <3od's altar, heard the sweet tones promise to me the vows of wifehood. 0 nrjr wife, my wife! She is gone. A little grave buries all my hopes in this world. My castles have fallen and lie shattered around me. Whet is there now of long ago? A little cross where lilies grow. It seems impossible to believe it. It cannot be that I shall never see that dear face again ; never again hold that dear, form in my arms ; nev-er more touch those red lips with my own. In fancy I can hear the soft frdu, frou, of her. silken draperies, can hear the light- step on its way to me; can smell her own intangible perfume — violets ; and behind that closed door, on those snowy pillows, I can see the impress of her dear' dark head; I can hear the gentle breathing. Ah, me ! ah, me ! Is it all imagination? It is so. The God who rules the universe has given me my punishment. It is great, very gr^at. Bu£, being a, man, J must hug my sorrow to my heart ; no tears may assuage my grief ; no j sympathy may lessen it. And I wonder j how I can live without her sweet pre- I sence. , I 1 remember with a pang how often I have chafed at her soft, caressii)g ways — j the touch of her hand as she toyed with j my hair ; her fond little way of hovering around me to find my paper, to set my slippers beside me. I hated fussiness, and deemed it unwomanly to permit a woman to wait upon me — to shower her caresses upon me. I could not see that it was h-er woman's pleasure, it -was her right, to bestow; my right to accept. And because I had half laughingly, half irritably chidden her, she had gradually grown less demonstrative, had waited for my words of love inetead of greeting me with her own. And I, knowing in my heart how easy it would have been to have established the old order, withheld the words— to my sorrow. What is up with this pipe? D N£, not that. I know that she held the habit of swearing in , abhorrence, and the least I can do for her now is to respect her wishes ; revere her memory ; aud neve done with all the paltry habits that go to mar my manhood. Her influence alive was not strong enough to keep me 1 straight ; but dead, her memory twill' be my safeguard whilst I live. ' ' My life has been clouded of all ite.wsun- ' shine; it has been shorn ef;.all ks Joy-: there is nothing left but a sneaf <X sweet, 1 sad memories, and i&ey shall' fee 'wilK 1 me while I remain here": I 'know what the Wiorld will say. Perhaps even now'they, in their inane chatter; 'are speculating whom I will -choose to Teplaee my dead wife. But there shall never be .anyone to take her place, eitfoerinmy home or in my heart. I am as sore of thai as I am that life is life or 1 deatK ''-follows life. Now I musi'WrSp'her ae^V memory in a silver silence, and lay it in the sacred niche of my heart, to be a holy of holies. Henceforth my whole existence will be broidered with thoughts of her.