LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume IV, Issue 384, 4 September 1875, Page 4

LITERATURE.

THE COLONEL’S WIFE,

( Coiichuled.)

‘ I do,’ I replied ; ‘but because her heart is broken would you destroy her soul ? ’ And leaving him in [the darkness, I returned to Mabel. She still lay motionless on her bed ; so, undressing her, and removing all evidences of her intended flight, I called the servants, intending to send for medical assistance; but before I could do so, a shuddering sigh convulsed her whole frame, and large tears began to well out of her eyes. I knew then that the poor, overcharged brain was relieved, and her reason safe. But it was an anxious night for me ; for she fell from one death-like faint into another, and when the doctor came he looked grave and concerned. I telegraphed for Colonel Carlton, and he returned to find his wife unconscious of his presence, and fighting with the grim destroyer, but youth and a naturally good constitution prevailed ; and a day came when Mabel, the shadow of her former self, was lifted from the bed (which, for clays, I had thought she would never leave again), and carried to the sofa in her pretty sitting room. The usually stern Colonel was visibly affected as he bent over the white wan face, which was as colourless as the pillows on which it rested; and I knew there were tears in his eyes, as he stooped to arrange and re-arrrange the cushions with almost the tenderness of a woman.

‘You are very good to me,’said Mabel, faintly; ‘I am not worthy of your goodness.’

I stepped hastily forward, fearing any agitating topic for her in her weak condition ; but Colonel Carlton had left the room hastily to conceal an emotion of which he was half ashamed.

During Mabel’s illness Captain Trenham suddenly exchanged back into his old regiment, much to everyone’s astonishment and regret, except mine, I had seen him once. I had not the heart to refuse when he came to my house, and sent in a note entreating me to give him news of Mabel; and when I saw how he suffered, pity mingled with my indignation ; but I made him promise that, should she recover, which we then doubted, he would never again attempt to see her ; and he kept his word faithfully. In this world they never met again. I took her away with me into the country, and nursed her back to health ; but peace to her mind I could not restore. We never alluded to that dreadful night but once, and then, kneeling on her knees in utter selfabasement, she thanked and blessed me for having been the means of saving her ; but I could see that she brooded over it continually. She shrank from seeing anyone, saying always that she'was unworthy even to touch the hem of a good woman’s garment. I was pained, though not surprised, to see that as the time approached for us to return home she shrank more and more from meeting her husband. I reasoned with her, I comforted her ; I reminded her who it was that forbid us to cast stones at each other, and on what occasion the command was given. I spoke of repentance, of atonement, without which repentance is nought; and I promised her peace. But it was long ere the peace came, Mabel repented deeply, bitterly, and silently ; and she did seek with all her strength to atone for that momentary madness. Though she shrank morbidly from society, she became almost a sister of mercy to the women of the regiment; and was always most pitiful and tender to such of her erring sisters as had strayed from the paths of virtue. There was the soul of one of the martyrs of old in that fragile form ; and where pestilence raged, where crime stalked rampant, there, soothing, comforting, admonishing, was she ever to be found. I remonstrated once when I found her braving what I considered unnecessary danger, but she stopped me sadly ; ‘ Have I not to atone, said she. And at length, God sent the Comforter ! There came a day when Mabel lay faint and exhausted in her bed, but with a new light of j-in [her r eyes, fand la tiny form beside her. ‘God has forgiven me,’ she whispered, as I bent over her, since He has sent me a little soul to train for Him.’

Years have rolled by since then, and Mabel Carlton is still pursuing her work of atonement; but never since the day when wee Mary |first lay in her arms has she sorrowed as those who have no hope. Her life is spent in works of love and charity; and to husband and child she is the very light of the eyes ; and when her place on earth shall know her no more, her good works shall live after her.

There is a lonely graveyard in Port’s Island, Bermuda, washed ever by the surging sea, where lie the remains of those who died by yellow fever in the frightful epidemic of 186—. If you push aside the tangled brushwood and cedar, and the rank tropical weeds which grow over the neglected graves, you will see one bearing this inscription : Sacked to the Memory of Charles Trenham, Captain —th Itegivient, Who sacrificed his life nobly while attending on the men of his regiment during the yellow-fever epidemic. ‘ He who is without sin among you let him cast the first stone,’ E. M.