WHERE THE ROADS FORK.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 18, Issue 12, 8 February 1907, Page 2

WHERE THE ROADS FORK.

BY MISS E. P. PRICE.

Parienn'e was waking the. baby up and down the floor. Jt was past 2 in the morning, and there was no one else in the house. At least she hoped there was not. She was a timid little woman and every sound made her heart stand still,f with the. dread of burly marauders or ghostly apparitions. Her' husliand, a. drunken creature, who could never keep a situation, had rented this lonely farm as a last eesorf. It was far out in the country, yet all too near the town for his love of drink. Many a night had Darienne watched till morning for his reuurn, and the constant nervous strain was weakening her. She had walked the door for hours, but walking was the only means by which she could soothe the little one. These steps were a willing labour of love, for she knew the baby was dying. Both the other children had gvnie the same way—little ones, half starved during their short lives and doomed to the grave from the first. The husband had that morning "taken the mule, the only piece of live stock on the place, and gone into town for the doctor, but there were many gin shops to pass on the way, and though he had promised faithfully io return immediately, lve was still away. How anxiously the wife and mother watched for him as the afternoon shadows lengthened ; as the shadows deepened into night and the hour for the evening meal came and the slow hours of the night dragged by until it was nearly morning. All through the hours of gloom the rain had been beating down in torrents on the crazy roof ; the wind had howled angrily around tho house shaking the doors and windows li'ke some alien spirit determined to enter. The weather had turned piercingly cold. The fire is low. (The husband was in the town too much to have any time to cut wood, and Darienne had put on the last stick hours ago.) There was a kettle of water heating by the fireplace. Darienne raked the coals together,, and put the kettle on them, to keep warm as long as possible. She hold the baby on her other arm, as she did this, and the jar roused the little sufferer, who moaned and rolled her head rest-, lessly. And the tireless march began again but the fluttering breath came harder and harder, .for the end was very near. How cold it was. -The rain had turned to sleet. The lonely mother could hear it. beating upon the window. That dreadful wind. Would it never cease '? A dozen times she was sure she heard stealthy footsteps coming up the stairs, and she paused in her walk, waiting for the door to open and admit, she knew not what. A small kerosene lamp burned on the bureau. The lonely mother doubted if there was oil enough to keep it burning until daylight. Oh ! if her husband would only come. Her thoughts were very bitter as she walked to and fro. She watched the changes passing over the little face that was lying on her arm. She thought, how she had loved all her children, and how ardently she had prayed that she might keep this little one. She remembered a line in a poem she had once read, "Once to every man and nation, comes the moment to decide./' It had come to her and she had chosen the path with this man. A rocky path it had been, a road that carried her through dark and thorny ways, and always fording stormy waters. How tired she was of.breasting those wild currents, single-hand-ed. Oh ! for some strong arm to lean upon, somewhere to rest ! Then she thought of that other path that might have been hers longago. Her mind was wandering down this dreamy vista through shaded woodland ways, past silver streams, when a cry from the baby sharply recalled them. Frantically she used every means in her power to relieve the paroxysm ; the terrible struggle was short ; the frail body could no longer keep its grasp on the escaping soul, and in a moment Darienne laid the little form down on the bed, with dry, burning eyes and set face. She brought the water which was still warm, got out little clothes, and performed the last loving offices for the dead. The lamp, which had barely sufficed for her to finish her work, now flickered and went out, and the bereft mother threw herself down on her knees beside the bed, put her face to the dead babe's, and all the horror of her loss, the loneliness, the darkness, and tho awful presence of death, swept over her, and she sobbed wildly. When the morning was well advanced, two men came up the stairs. Darienne did not move, for the stupor of grief and exhaustion was upon her. One of the men, bloated, dishevelled and shaky, shook her by the shoulder and tried to rouse her, saying thickly, "Wazzer matter Darienne ? Wake up the baby. Got zum candy."The other man drew him away, led him into the next room, and closed the door. There he staggered about a few minutes, trying to find the doorknob, forgot all about it, and tumbling down on the floor was soon snoring in heavy oblivion. The other man looked sadly at the dark head on the couch. Kneeling down beside the motionless woman he put his arms round her, and raised the weary head to his breast: She came slowly back to consciousness, and opened her eyes. Those strong arms she had so often felt in her dreams were round lw, that dear, well remembered face was looking into hers. "Darienne," he said, "you chose between us once before ; now choose again. Will you go on with this farce, sinking deeper and deeper into misery and despair, and God what other evils ? Things will never be better with this man. I found him in town this morning in the condition he is in, found out where you were living and brought him home. "You see," glancing at the beautiful, waxen form that lay before them "with this little one is burjbd the last tie that binds you to the old life 1 will attend to everything here. Then, Daxienne, you must como wiUfa

me. Which will it lie ? Poor, little girl, J have everything to make you happy, except I hut. 1 cannot give you back those lost years, Come, Darienne, look up and tell me, which you choose ?" ' And who will blame her for her choice ?