The Andrew County Republican. [volume] (Savannah, Mo.) 1871-1876, 1872-06-07

home, 30 had. Il seemed long time
ago-years almost. How odd and ill
felt! Surely l was not going to die
there, in that room all alone I scream.
ed aloud-there was no answer-no one
needed the lonely lodger. I 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 l 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
ter in my pocket, and then my father
would come up and identify me.
should be put in my coffin carefully and
buried in some London cemetery among
strangers, away from any ono who had
loved me. My father would repent
then his neutrality-suspicious. weep
too late. He would look at me, all 80
still and white. and know it was his do
ing that lay there. How sad it would
be to see one 80 young dead Would
my face change much. 1 wondered !?
Mrs. Byng would then grieve, and Mr..
Lomax also. But where should I be,
that lay there?
Sleep came at last, full of troubled
dreams, but blessed, as it brought for.
getfulness to the present. Christmas
morning, in trying to rise, tainted so
had to remain where / 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," l sadly answered; "only
let me alone"
The next day she again stood at tho
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 was
to be turned into the street, i'll or
we'll.
You shall have your money, and l
will quit the room to-day" / said as
emptied the contents of my purse into
her willing hands. There was only Just
enough-not penny overland all my
ornaments had already pawned.
What to do next, alas, knew not.
Despair gave momentary strength. l
rose and dressed. One look at the
glass before left; no one would recog.
nize Beatrice Byng now-dp 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, l felt my little
strength was going; money for food
must be had somehow. A lamp-post
before welllit house attracted my at
ton; surely, / might lean against it /;
no one would say TO me "nay" there.
A sudden impulse, quick resolve, and
l broke out with hymn 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. looked up and saw dimly
through film of tears gentleman.
"Miss Byng," was all he said; and l
lost consciousness.
HIS SIDE.
She fell into these arms. After all it
was decreed that 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
toknow how l 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 q mes.
sage. l find it hard to forgive her
but Beatrice whispers, "If it had not
been for her, we should never have
met"