The young fellow began to smile, and stammered awkwardly,
“I don’t think I’m to tell.”
She released his arm and glanced around with a look
of intense expectation.
“Oh, oh!” she gasped with quick short
sobs, “can it be—” Then she
sprang to the door, opened it, and looked out into
the black, stormy night. What seemed a shadow
rushed toward her; she felt herself falling, but strong
arms caught and bore her, half fainting, to a lounge
within the room.
Many have died from sorrow, but few from joy.
With her husband’s arms around her Mrs. Marlow’s
weakness soon passed. In response to his deep,
earnest tones of soothing and entreaty, she speedily
opened her eyes and gave him a smile so full of content
and unutterable joy that all anxiety in her behalf
began to pass from his mind.
“Yes,” she said softly, “I can live
now. It seems as if a new and stronger life were
coming back with every breath.”
The young fellows who had been the bearers of the
gifts were so touched that they drew their rough sleeves
across their eyes as they hastened away, closing the
door on the happiest family in the city.
A TRADITION OF THE REVOLUTION
Not very far from the Highlands of the Hudson, but
at a considerable distance from the river, there stood,
one hundred years ago, a farmhouse that evidently
had been built as much for strength and defence as
for comfort. The dwelling was one story and a
half in height, and was constructed of hewn logs, fitted
closely together, and made impervious to the weather
by old-fashioned mortar, which seems to defy the
action of time. Two entrances facing each other
led to the main or living room, and they were so large
that a horse could pass through them, dragging in
immense back-logs. These, having been detached
from a chain when in the proper position, were rolled
into the huge fireplace that yawned like a sooty cavern
at the farther end of the apartment. A modern
housekeeper, who finds wood too dear an article for
even the air-tight stove, would be appalled by this
fireplace. Stalwart Mr. Reynolds, the master of
the house, could easily walk under its stony arch
without removing his broad-brimmed Quaker hat.
From the left side, and at a convenient height from
the hearth, a massive crane swung in and out; while
high above the centre of the fire was an iron hook,
or trammel, from which by chains were suspended the
capacious iron pots used in those days for culinary
or for stock-feeding purposes. This trammel,
which hitherto had suggested only good cheer, was
destined to have in coming years a terrible significance
to the household.
When the blaze was moderate, or the bed of live coals
not too ample, the children could sit on either side
of the fireplace and watch the stars through its wide
flue; and this was a favorite amusement of Phebe Reynolds,
the eldest daughter of the house.
