Charles City intelligencer. [volume] (Charles City, Floyd County, Iowa) 1864-1866, 1865-11-23

did not KNOW lC. EVery faculty vi my
being was concentrated in the one
longing to save her life. And at last
the crisis came and passed. The fe-
yer subsidized. There was hope--a
faint, weak hope-no blessed certain
ty. She was so weak, the doctor fear
ed that she might go into decline.
/" If she lives" he said to me, you
will have saved her. l have never
seen such devoted nursing" E..E.-
All, he did not know what crime |
had been trying to expiate-how, in
the splendor of her beauty and her tri.
umphs | had suffered myself to hate
my sister. :,
l did not think Madge had heard
him, he had spoken, standing in the
open door, and in low tone /; but
when went back to her bedside she
said ayes, Essie, if live, you will
have saved my life, and | am glad to
owe it to you. Life is very sweet to
me nowadays. | meant to tell you
when first came-but you seemed SO
strange. Perhaps, though, l only
thought you strange, because ! was
getting sick and could not see things
as they were. Iwant you to send to
Mr.. Henry Deane, of Albany. If !
live he will be your brother. lie will
wonder at this long silence, but do
not think he will doubt me. Please
write to him at once, and tell him how
i'll have been, and ask him to come.
Oh, Essie, you cannot guess how dear
and how good he is"
Her cheek was glowing again, and
her eyes glittering, so ] made writing
the note an excnse to stop her talking,
though longed to hear more.
That afternoon, when a short sleep
had Gained her, l carried her the let
tiers which had come for her during
her illness, and she selected those
from Mr.. Deane, and made me read
them to her. Only those letters, which
under other circumstances / should
never have seen-would have made
me understand the heart and soul OF
this man who loved my sister. ! saw,
through them into the very core OF his
being-found him pure as woman,
chivalrous as a knight, brave as he
70, and tender-I have no comparison
for the tenderness of that love which
Madge had won. ] felt as ! read how
impossible it would have been for the
beloved of Henry Deane to crave en-
pire over any other heart-how utter
ly had wronged my sister in believ-
ing that she wished to outshine me, or
delighted to triumph over me. be-
gan to see her with his eyes-to dis
cover that her nature was as unique
as her beauty-fervid, tropical, strong
warm as fame, but pure as snow.
And then knew that all the old pos
sibilities of hate and envy were con-
quered. Let all the world admire her
she was worthy. Let others love
her-I, who best knew her worth,
would love her more, and teach them
her deservings.
1t was two days before Mr. Deane
could be there. lie came, as l had
felt sure he would. in the earliest pos
sible train after my letter reached him
1t was just at sunset when he arriv
ed, and took him to Madge. The
last sun-rays glanced in at the western
| window, and touched her hair with
glory. Her eyes were eager with love
and welcome. She had been beautiful
in other days, but never so beautiful
as now, with this pale, Transparent
face, which seemed kindled by the sou
burning within-with this look on il
which struck me then, and chilled m,
to the heart, as look belonging t
Heaven, not earth.
went away fror1 her, leaving then
together, and prayed as had neve
prayed before. / understood theI
what was meant when the Bible says
Jacob wrestled with God His mus
have been an agony of longing sucl
as mine-an agony that must be heard
And yet my prayer was not, like his
answered according to my hearts de
sire. | asked for her peace-and Goo
gave her peace not of this world-life
and he gave her long life, even forevel
and forever. My vigil was not Owe
when on my door came a hurried
startling knock, and opened it to
pale-faced messenger.
"your sister-dying that was al
/ heard. / rushed to her room, an,
saw her face with strange, gray pal
lor on it. had never before looket
on death but, with the sad instinc
of humanity, l recognized the token,
of his presence. Yet her great, darl
eyes were still bright, and the old mu
sic still quivered in her voice. "Coms
here, Essie," she said. "You woult
have died to save me, / know; but il
was not the Fathers will. l wanted tt
live; but He knew best, and car
trust his love. Tomorrow shall lool
on you from unknown spheres"
What else did he say? ] never
knew. A great wave of agony swept
over me, shutting out sight and sound
| did not faint but / neither heard OF
saw her farewell to the one true lover
of her life. l think bent my lips t.
hers, but her kiss seemed to come tc
me from far distance, and sound at
of many waters was on my ears--diC
| hear the waves Of that sea which di
vides the living from the dead break
ing upon the shore of what we cal
Time?
No, cannot talk about my grief, o.
his-her lover. / know every on,
was kind and pitiful, and the third day
we went home with our dead and
buried her. Mother, as told you,
had none, and that summer my father
was in Europe, on business. HI
would not know that his beautiful
daughter, the pride of his eyes, the JOY
Of his heart, was gone from him forev
err, until he should come back cxpec
tant to the home where she had al
ways been first to greet him, and fine
only me.
| Oh, let me stop here. ! cannot lin
ger on those long, lonely days aftel
she was buried, or the agony of my
fathers homecoming. That was year.
ago. ! am Crawford Lindssy's wife
now; but ! did not plight him m,
frofb until Ia lru.w mo nc Was Ennu