The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1872-06-06
WHAT JENNA SAYS.

Lcnore has been very ill. Her very
fear has accelerated what she feared
During the night following the CONVEX
sation detailed in the last chapter, in
violent fit of coughing, made more vi
olent than usual by overpowering emo.
tion, by uncontrolled weeping, she has
broken a blood vessel. It is in the
dead of nigh; every saul in the hotel
is asleep. Unit! they have tried it, no
one can realize the feeling Of abso.
lutte helpless desperation that assails one
under such a catastrophe, happening in
remote and hardly-accessible corner
Of Switzerland, utterly without doctors,
and four days pest from England
Since the days of Lenore's childhood,
1 have been entirely unused to the
sight of Sickness. I have not the re-
motest idea what remedies to apply :;
neither is Sylvia any wiser. In my
despair I turn to the person from whom
| know that I 81 all get at least passion
ate sympathy. Apparently he is not
asleep, for before I knock at his door
he has opened it, aud stands before me
IN the disheveled dress in which per-
son usually appears who has sprung cut
OF sleep into his Clothes his curled locks
tossed in the untidiress Of slumber,
aid the heavy lids still weighing on his
blue eyes.
81 thought it was your STEP" he says,
hurrledly. "Good Heavens what is it |?
Is she-is She"
"She is much worse she has broken
blood vessel" I answer, breathlessly.
"lVhat are we to do? what are we to
do?" (wringing my hands.) "No doc
tor to send for ;! One is so utterly
helpless. What Is to become of US 2"
For ON instant he has clinched his
hands, with a movement Of despair
moro absolute even thao mine; then,
under the urgent need for them, his
strayed wits come back.
"There must, be a doctor at St.
Moritz," he says; "among the two OF
three huudred visitors there always ore
one or two. ] will knock up M. En-
derlin ,cSnd make him saddle me horse
to go there"
"But what are we to do in the mean
while 2" I ask, ~helplessly. "You can.
not be back for two hours, at SOONEST.
We know nothing! Perhaps we may
be throwing away her life, for want Of
knowing the right way to keep it,"
~ will send my mother" he says.
He is already half way down the
long, chill passage. In twenty minutes
more he is gone, and the who lie house
is astir. Doors are being opened reo.
pie Of both sexes, evidently so slightly
dressed as to avoid rather than court
notice, protrude their heads, and ask
what is the matter. Mrs. Scrope has
come hurrying to US, with the entire
selfforgetfulness of a ind:hearted per-
son come hurryiog in a limp and cor
setless dishabille, emiuently becoming
to a>youpg girl, but cruelty trying to
the best-looking woman Of more ad-
vanced age. How many secrets Of the
prison.house must fire, an alarm of
burglars, or a suddea illness, have re-
vealed before now! She has put some
thing of calm and order into our disor.
dered CONSERVATION. We do what little
| We can-alas it is but little-and theD
wait-wait-try to imagine, as We sit
, in absolute silence and weary Stiffness
in the little bare room, how far up the
mountain road to St. Moritz our mes
senger is !; fancy hundred times that
| we hear the toofs Of his back coming
horse long before he can possibly have