The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1865-10-12

herself, tonight if there was any hope,
and had to tell her. You see how she
bears it, y s sa+ @
After he had gone went back to little
Susy had brought her bunch of violets
which saw in shop window as came
along, aud her very pleasure in them made
my heart ache How she loved all beauti
full things How much she was capable OF
| enjoying, and how little she had had to en-
| joy in this world, poor child, And now she
was goingi
think she guessed my thought, for she
touched my hand with timid caressing
motion, and said, very softly,
''There will be brighter flowers there,
Miss Macgregor. 1t hath not entered into
the heart of man to conceive, you know. 1t
is well for me; only it will he SO hard for
mo Their and Jane. But their Father will
take care of them. You know what it says
about the widow and the fatherless y
How .unconsciously she reproved my lack
of faith / bent over her, and pressed my
| lips to the little cheek where the hectic
burned. How many times had doubted
God, and what faith she had |! She seemed to
infuse into my soul new strength, AS
went through the other room to go home
found Mrs. Mory crying very Silly, so as
not to disturb her sick child, in a quiet
dreary way, inexpressibIy pitiful Poor
Body was kneeling with her face buried in
her mothers lap fairly shaken by the vio-
lence of her suppressed sobbing. | only
said, as went by
Don't grieve her by weeping. She has
been telling me that God will take care of
you. "s9
When reached home sat down and
about DR.. Sargent. 1t carried me back to
Horace Weir
John Sargent was his friend, remember
ed-a classInate, and the titus debates of
his early manhood, Did they occupy such
a relation still, wondered Would | be
mentioned between them But no DR.. Sar-
gent knew of me only as Miss Macgregor,
the fashionable dress. maker for whom little
Brains had worked. He would never as
sociate me with Helen Bryce, even if Weir
had once made that name familiar to him.
What was there to arouse such tumult of
hope and memory in my heart remem-
bered little Susy, and the world where she
was going, and tried to grow calm
For fortnight after that she failed fast.
Of course went to see her every day, and it
carried me strangely near to the eternal
world whittier her footsteps tended. You
can not. think what change it seemed, to
come back to the thoroughly earthly atmos-
phere of my fashionable .estabIishlnent-to
see the bright ,hued silks, and laces white
and dainty as hoar frost-to hear the per-
petual talk about what was stylish and
hof 1
about my invention, my charming taste.
1t was like turning back to earth from the
gate of Heaven.
. At length there came day--it was to-
ward the last of April-when | vent ear
lier than usual to see little Brains. She had
been so weak the day before that felt anx-
ious. | carried her the first May flowers
had seen.
! The little creature had sort of passionate
fondness for flowers not unusual in such an
organization. She loved an cherished them
as if they were of her own kindred.
When l went in saw DR. Sargent was
In the room, and with him, his back toward
the door, another gentleman. The Doctor
heard my footsteps and came out.
"A friend of mine is there" he said
CDR. Weir, from New York. He came on
to visit me, and 1 brought him to see the
child. --. --.-.....-
There is no hope, of course; but he might
think of something to relieve her that | did
not
| felt my face turning crimson under his
searching glance. But neither he nor |
made any comment AS soon as I felt
sufficiently mistress of myself | went into
the room. Calmness stole like balm over
my spirit as ] crossed its threshold | felt
as if I were in the presence of waiting an.
gels. | met Horace Weir's eyes, but |
scarcely knew it as | went up to Susy, and
saw the strange, seraphic light which made
her little wan face seem as the face of an
angel - - ----..' --..1,- ~ -
gave her the flowers, and she took them
and my hand together into her clinging
hold.
Dear, kind Miss Macgregor, she said,
fondly; ''you won't have to bring me any
more flowers. | am going where they blow
all the time. What should [ have done
without you? How thankful am that
went to your shop?"
But if you hadn't come there, perhaps
you would have lived" said, as we'll as
could for the sobs which were chok ing
Inc. s--. e> -
She thought moment, then she shook
her head
mo, | should not have outlived Gods
time; and you have made me so much hap
pier. If can pray for anything after die
| shall ask him, when get to his feet to
bless you for evernore. Can you stay with
me little while r.
took off nay shawl and bonnet, and sat
down at her bedside.
DIR. Sargent came up to bid her good
night
Il must go now" he said, ''but I will
come very early in the morning VIII you
stay while, Weir, in case any thing should
be wantedY' ....e...-.
Certainly" answered a voice, every tone
of which | knew well.
Little Brains looked up with such a bright
smile & # 81 +
elbow kind every one is "she said. GLOW
kind you've always been Dr. Sargent Good
byr
Moved by some sudden impulse of tender
ness, DR.. Sargent bent over and kissed the
little wistful face of the child he had tended
so long and patiently. Next time he sees
her it will be after he too has gone over the
river. %
He will not be sorry then that he ''did it
unto to one of the least of these Christ s
little ones.
Weir sat down in the outer room. |
staid by Susy. Her mother came in and
out restlessly, with white face, and eyes full
of anguish and longing, Body had cried
herself into state of exhaustion, and she
sat on the floor her head 10 chair, sleeping.
heavily.
Shall ever forget the glimpse had that
night into the heart of that dying child
Holding that little hand, looking into those
eyes SO full of meaning aud SO soon to close
forever, | drew nearer than ever had be-
fore to the mysteries of death and of life.
1t was midnight think, when a sudden
| light Illuminated all her face, aud as if in
answer to call we did not hear, she said,
Il am ready"
Her mother chung to her in a passion Of