Eaton weekly Democrat. [volume] (Eaton, Ohio) 1866-1875, 1872-06-06
EATON, OHIO, THURSDAY, JUNE 6, 1872.

home, so 1 had. 1t seemed long time
ago-years almost. How odd and i'll /
feltl Surely l was not going to die
there, in that room all alone scream
ed aloud-there was no answer-no one
needed the lonely lodger. 1 put my
clasped hands above my head and
prayed for calmness and help in my ex-
tremity. Then my thoughts wandered
again to death. Perhaps 1 should be
found there in the morning lying cold
and stiff; they would shake their heads
and murmur, Poor young thing "
| The landlady would find directed let
would come up and identify me. I
should be put in my coffin carefully and
buried in some London cemetery among
| strangers, away from any one who had
| loved me. My father would repent
then his harshness-perchanc weep
too late. He would look at me, all so
still and white, and know it was his do
ing that 1 lay there. How sad it would
be to see one so young deadl Would
my face change much. l wondered
Mrs. Byng would then grieve, and Mr..
Lomax also. But where should I be,
I that lay there?
dreams, but blessed, as it brought for
morning, in trying to rise, tainted SO
had to remain where I was. They
brought me food out of pity the wo-
man of the house sat by my bedside,
and begged to be allowed to write to my
friends.
"There must be some one who cares
for you, poor child" she said.
"No one," 1 sadly answered; "only
let me alone"
The next day she again stood at the
bottom of my bed her husband wanted
his rent; he refused even to get bread
until he was paid. She could not change
his resolution. Payment, or else 1 was
to be turned into the street, i'll or
we'll.
You shall have your money, and 1
emptied the contents of my purse into
her willing hands. There was only just
enough-not penny overland all my
ornaments 1 had already pawned.
What to do next, alas, knew not.
Despair gave momentary strength. 1
rose and dressed. One look at the
glass before left; no one would recog-
nize Beatrice Byng now-tfo further
fear of that. Sunken eyes, hollow
cheeks, white lips. The old bright
Beatrice Byng, then, was really already
dead; it was merely her spirit or ghost
that moved along now.
Melancholy took up my bag, and
passed out of the house, houseless and
friendless.
Wandering aimlessly up and down
some quiet terrace near, 1 felt my little
strength was going; money for food
| before well-lit house attracted my at
7 not r.
no one would say to me nay " there.
A sudden impulse, quick resolve, and
l broke out with hymn l loved :
"While shepherds watched their focks." !"
1t was as though an angel sang within
me, the voice was so pure and clear.
The door of the house opened; some
one came to my side; money was held
out. 1 looked up and saw dimly
through film of tears a gentleman.
Miss Byng," was all he said; and l
lost consciousness.
X X x \
| She fell into these arms. After all it
was decreed that l should find her.
carried her into my house, my sister,
who was now quite well, helping me.
We laid her in our best guest-chamber.
Many days and nights death and love
fought together; my darling was re-
stored to health. Day by day she grew
to know how loved her; day by day
her heart became mine. In the spring
time, when the flowers bloomed and
the violet gave out its perfume, we were
married.
Col. Byng gave his daughter away
but Mrs. Byng never even sent mes
sage. I find it hard to forgive her
but Beatrice whispers, off it had not
been for her, we should never have
met"