The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1866-12-21
cheek lay against my shoulder while

ooh KNOW Whetner you re
member my sister Amy, Frank"
Jack began; ''I think it is likely
enough you may not, for you could
not have seen her many times. NV
homo was always at Charleswood with
my aunt, and after Amy left school
she went to live in Essex. with her
guardian. We two were pretty much
alone in the world, and perhaps that
was the reason we thought u great
deal of one another-at least I know
l was very fond Of my little sister,
''And she thought there was no
brother III all the world to compare
with hers, and never tired of talking
of him, murmurcd voice on nv
left-Jack was on my right.
''And perhaps L never heard of
Miss Beatty Francis, either, before L
saw her, answered Jack. ''I remem-
Der [ laughed one day when Amy
was setting forth her perfections, and
SAID she must introduce me, and per-
haps | might be the happy man who
would win this paragon for his wife.
Perhaps this unluclzy speech of mine
first turned my little sisters thoughts
towards such thing, though it
passed entirely out of my mind; for
very soon afterwards Amy fell into
delicate health, and before many
months were over [ knew that we
should not have her long"
Jack paused here. When he re-
sumed, his voice was lower, and
Beaty's face was hidden against nv
shoulder.
cit was sad time, and I don't
care to think of it. She sank very
rapidly, and one day burst q blood
vessel; after that we know the end
must come very soon. She knew it
herself, too, and pined so much to
see her dear little school friend Beatty
Francis, that her kind old guardian
went up to London himself, to beg
Miss Francis might be allowed to re-
turn with him to bid the poor dying
child goodbye =
81 have never forgotten that day
you came, nor how l first saw YOU"
Jack went on, addressing himself
now to Miss Beatty, with that involun-
tary. .softening of his deep voice as he
did so which tells tale to those who
listen.
"Often and often, out in Australia,
when | have been sitting quite alone
IN my hut, with the level sunset light
streaming through the open door, I
have seen it all over again. That
golden light coming across the low
fields, and Pickering on the wall
above the sofa where Amy lay, her
poor little wasted face propped upon
pillows; and lying beside it, pressed
close against it, your fresh rosy face,
and your yellow hair, SO bright and
wavy, mixed with hers, all dark and
straight. l did not think much about
1T at the time, but I suppose ii must
have made some impression. L re
membered it all so often afterwards;
then thought of little but my poor
Amy. Your coming seemed to have
put new life into her. She had
scarcely spoken for days; now she
laughed and talked SO gaily, that
something almost like hope began to
wake up in my heart. I looked
over at you, and said, I remember,
that You were the best doctor that
had come near Amy yet, and that I
thought few days of your company
would do all they had not been able
to accomplish. And then-but YOU
rem emberr'
"Yes," whispered Beatty.
Il do not, [ could not refrain
from reminding these absorbed crea-
tCres
81 beg your pardon, Frank" re-
turned Jack, with quite start. ''l
mad forgotten [ was telling you"
so 1t seems. But go on, nv dear
old fellow"
"Think of Am}, then, Frank, as a
very young, very warm hearted and
!ovlng-romantic, perhaps, and lifted,
by the knowledge that she was dying,
above ordinary, every day life; very
sorry for me, too. whom her death
would leave but with very few to care
much about me-think of her so, and
then, perhaps, you will understand
how it all came about; that, holding
her friends hands in hers, she asked.
her to promise her something, and
that Beatty answered, "Yes-wilIing-
ily-g -gladly-anything" Then, look
ing across at me, Amy asked me to do
the same. How could I dream what
the poor child's thoughts were fixed
on? J. answered, MS Beatty had done.
And then-then-with light in her
dying eyes, and a smile on her mouth,
she told us that what she asked of us,
-I,A+ <.l~