The Evansville journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ind.) 1866-1870, 1868-08-06
TUE BLUE AND TIE GRAY.
A HOSPITAL SKETCH.
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HMuAG. anu q 00l30 90
along the young woman nerves as
she saw his face. Leaning on one
arm. he peered about the place with
an eager. watchful air, and glanced up
az the dark gallery, but did not see
the startled face behind the central
pillow. Pausing an instant, he shook
his one clenched hand at the uncon-
scious s~leerer, and then drew out the
ocket cautiously. Two white mugs
ust alike stood on the table between
the beds. water In each. With an
other furtive glance behind him,
Clay suddenly stretched out his long
arm, and dropped something from the
locket into Murry's cup. An instant
he remained motionless, with a SIMS
ter smile on his face; :. then, as Ben's
step sounded beyond the screen, he
threw his arm over his face, breath
ing heavily, as if asleep.
Like a shadow, Mercy glided down.
forming her plan as she went. A
dozen mugs stood about the room, all
alike in size and color; catching up
one. she partly filed it, and, conceal
ing it beneath the clean sheet hang
ing on her arm, went toward the re-
cess, saying audibly,.
want some fresh water, Ben"
Thus warned of her approach, Clay
Jay with carefully averted face as she
came In.
Never mind the water now, Ben.
hurry is asleep, and so is Clay; they'll
not need it yet"
Straight to Fitz Hugh's room she
went, and gave the cup into his keep
ing, with the story of what she had
seen. A man was dying, and there
was no time to test the water then;
but putting it carefully away, he
promised to set her fears at rest in
the morning. To quiet her impotence,
Mercy went back to watch over Muir
ray till day dawned. As she sat down,
she caught the glimmer of a satisfied
smile on Clay's lips, and looking into
the cup she had held, she saw that it
was empty.
He is satisfied, for he thinks his
horrible revenge is secure. Sleep in
peace, my boyl you arc safe while |
am here"
As she thought this, she put her
hand on the broad, pale forehead
OF the sleeper with a motherly caress,
but started to feel how damp and cold
il was. Sending a message to DIR.
Fitz Hugh, she waited anxiously, try
ing to believe that she deceived her.
self.
The doctor came at once, and a
single lock convinced him hat he
had left one death-bed for aaother.
As | feared" he said; that sud
den rally was but a last effort of ma
ture. There was just one chance for
him, and he has missed it. Poor lad !
/ can do nothing; he'll sink rapidly,
and go without pain"
Can | do nothing?" asked Mercy,
with dimmed eyes, as she held the
cold hand close in both her own with
tender pressure.
Give him stimulants as long as he
can swallow, and, if he's conscious.
take any messages he may have. Poor
Hall is dying hard, and | can help
him; Ill come again in an hour, anu
say good by"
The kind doctor choked, touched
the pale sleeper with a gentle caress,
and went away to help Hall die.
hurry slept on for an hour, then
looked up and whispered, as Mercy
tried to smile with lips that refused to
tell the heavy truth. (
Il know, | feel it; don't grieve
yourself By trying to tell me, dear
friend. It's best SO; I can bear it,
but / did want to live"
1LaNG YOU any worn LOT uafy.
dear2o asked Mercy, for he seemed
but a boy to her since she had nursed
him. 7
One look of sharp anguish and
dark despair passed over his face, as
he wruDg his thin hands id shut his
eyes, finding death terril D. 1t passed
in a moment, and has paliid counte-
nance grew beautiful with the pathetic
patience of one who submits without
complaint to the inevitable.
Tell her | was ready, and the only
bitterness was leaving her. | shall
remember. aud wait until she comes.
My little Mary oh, be kind to her.
for my sake, when you tell her this"
+" will, hurry, as God hears me. L
viii be a sister to her while | live"
AS Mercy spoke with fervent voice,
he laid the hand that had ministered
10 him SO faithfully against his cheek.
and lay silent, as ii content.
What else? Let me do something
more. Is there no other friend to be
comforted?"
No; she is all the frieMd | have
in the world. / hoped to make her
so happy, to be so niue to her; fol-
she's { lonely little thing; but God
says No and [ submit"
A long pause, as he lay breathing
heavily, with eyes that were dimmine
fast fixed on the gentle face beside
him.
Give Ben my clothes; send Mary
bit of my hair, and-may | give you
this? It's a poor thing, butall [ have
to leave you, best and kindest Of
women"
He tried to draw off a slender ring
but the strength had gone out of hi.
wasted fingers, and she helped him
thanking him with the first tears he
had seen her shed. -He seemed salts
fed, but suddenly turned his eyes OF
Clay, who lay as if asleep. A sigf
broke from hurry, and Mercy eaugh
the words,
How could he do it, and | so help
lcssl" +,
30 you know him?" she Whispered
eagerly, as she remembered Ciay's owl
words.
knew he was the man who sho
me, when he came. / forgive him
but / wish he had spared me, TO
Mary's sake" he answered sorrow
fully, not angrily.
Can you really pardon him?'
cried Mercy, wondering, yet touches
by the words.
4 can. He will be sorry one day
perhaps; at any rate, he did what h,
thought his duty; and war make
brutes of us all sometimes, / fear
I'd like to say good-by; but he
asleep after a weary day, so don
awake him. Tell him I'm Ola,