The Evansville journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ind.) 1866-1870, 1869-02-26
nnrive 10 Mrs. Bonds. my dear"

L cant get over wnaL-Wnat-Wha
felt. Mary; and this delicious air cool
me. Drive on, Mary"
! felt vexed, surprised, sorry. Il
blame Lady Margaret, even to doub
Lady Margaret, was a new sensation
but drove on silently in the direc
ton of the Grown and Salmon"
There we are II she cried wit
considerable excitement In her voice
Don't be unnatural, Mary. Yo,
can't speak"
81 don't like going here" 1 said
She touched my arm and made M
look at her. Her beauty was heig hit
ened so by what she had in her minC
that she quite dazzled me.
You must neither think mol
speak" she said. II feel sure tina
a very wonderful thing is going tt
happen-to me- And then she GO
out of the carriage and went straight
into the house.
I stayed in the carriage waiting
The river murmured away. Young
men who had come for a few days
fishing strolled about talking of the
river, the weather and the weight oil
salmon. Half an hour passed, and
then Lady Margaret came back, with
a face, the odd excitement of which
she could not conceal.
Go to your own home now, Mary
1t is too late for anything else" So
[ drove to our ent-anee-gate, when
Lady Margaret got out, and walked
straight across the park towards the
Court, only saying, Thank you dear
good might" [ looked after her.
felt as if there was something wrong.
| did not like the unnaturally strong
interest my perfect Lady Margaret
had shown in this beautiful stranger.
[ disliked her whole manner so much
Il felt It to be so unaecountable that
[ kept all about it a secret from my
mother.
Days and weeks passed. Lady
Margaret sent two medical men, at
different times, to see the sick man,
but no entreaties of Mrs. Bond, nor
of her husband. could make him see
either of them, Mrs. Bond said that
he must die. Lady Margaret sent all
manuer Of dainties to the inn from
the Court, which the sick man ap.
peared to relish exceedingly.
This man then became the chief
interest of our lives. He would sat
10 his armchair by the riverside,
refusing to speak TO any one except
Lady Margaret. ALI eyes and mouths
were open to watch and to report pro-
eeediugs. Lady Margaret was with
him daily-Once, twice a day; and
when he was worse for few days,
she remained and waited on him like
q servant.
How things grew worse until they
assumed unpleasant Dimensions, L
need not say. But Lady Margaret's
projections first grew dim, and then
withered away. At last my mother
cautioned me that it was a matter on
which / had better not speak and
then l Wept bitter tears.
Down, down, down, in popular opin-
ion, went Lady Margaret. The whole
county heard. talked, wondered, and,
for the most part, condemned. At
last my mother spoke to her.
"Oyes," she said, standing up in our
morning room, know people dis :
like my having taken to sick nursing"
And she laughed hard laugh, such
as we had never heard from her be-
fore. Then she stopped suddenly,
and wiped her eyes, which were full
of tears. " cannot help it," she
said. / must go there. cannot
keep away. It would kill the poor
creature if | did"
Indeed, indeed, you ought"
pleaded my mother.
can't" she repeated, almost an !
scon't." Then she walked out of the
-1ov, Put "a, a1oR7nar voo,oant oh ~
came back again. She k ssed my
mother, looking with sad, entreating
eyes into her face. You will Away
stand by me" she said. The Royds
have always been faithful to the
Court. You will always make Mary
think we'll of me?' Then she
broke out in great excite
ment -" But, in the name of
Heaven, what have l done2 Are we
never to visit the sick, or comfort the
afflicted?" My mother did not speak.
But /, In an excess of girlish excite
ment, cried out, 20, Lady Margaret,
that is not the question. It is so
dreadful, because people say you are
in love with that horrid man." and
then a fit of crying overcame me, and
[ dropped my face on the sofa cushion,
sobbing violently.
=" Is it as bad as that2" she asked,
with trembling voice and a scared
face. But do not cry, my darling.
You are good, brave girl. Thank
you for telling me. Yet do not call
that sick man horrid, it is not true
and / cannot cease to care for him
But perhaps | ought to take him
away, if people say such things"
She looked at my mother like one
in dream.
Give it all up, Lady Margaret
Send the man to some consumptive
hospital. Give him what you please
but not your good name. You car
hardly exaggerate what people say
She made no answer to this speech
of my mothers, only going out of the
house quietly. But the next evening
as / was walking past the Deer Pool
/ turhod home quickly, for there, in
the shade, sat Lady Margaret, with
the mans hand In hers, his head or
her shoulder, and every now anC
then she kissed the broad white FORE
head, till he looked up at her with q
face SO bright with than kful love, thar
| fed away, and got back to my moth.
er's arms, aud told her all l had seen
I'VE will go away for time" she
said. Try not to think of it, Mary.
But my idol was broken; and the
burden of unbelief nearly broke my
heart.
Things grew so bad, even good ole
supplemented Mrs. Bond spoke tt
her at last, and said that it was un
seemly for one in her station to nurse
sick man of whom she knew moth,
ing, and whose name even was un.
known. But Lady Margaret only re
piled that she should never deser
the sick lodger. and that she woulC
never let any one take her place b,
his hedside. either by day or NIGHT