Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1873-11-06

Jays Kate Quincy went about among her
poor people with hectic spot in each
Jun cheek, and dry, burning eyes, whose
| leVerlsh hunger it half broke my heart to
see.
len days, and no answer came
l was dining there one night, and had
not gone when the last post came in,
bringing sounding knock at the door
winch made us all start. She had been
very pale, very quiet, all the evening; but
Tor once her patience failed her. With a
nasty word of apology she rose up from
ner chalr and went cut to the hall We,
lett behind, could hear through the closed
door the sharp click of the letter-box, fol
loWeo by minute of total silence; then
one hoarse, smothered cry-"Oh, my God /!
my GOD" and heavy fall.
one was lying face dOwnWards on the
ground when we went out, the letter
crushed In her hand, and no life or move
ment IN the blank white face and rigid
limbs. L carried her upstairs to bed, and
there she lay for twenty four hours, to all
appearance dead as an unburied corpse.
Even when the strong remedies of one of
the first London physicians, Joined to my
unremitting care, had brought her round
In some degree, the only sign of life she
gave was low, heavy moaning before
sinking back again into Inconsistencies.
DR.. Albatross told me, in confidence, he
thought Miss Quincy had got her death
blow; and my heart echoed the sad fore
Dodlng, for Hates mother, in her heavy
trouble, had given me that crumpled let
ter, and my blood boiled as read the few
words in which a heartless libertine had
crushed out this good and true-hearted
| Woman's life.
1t was not more than a dozen lines,
headed with the Scarsdale crest, and writ
ten neatly and clearly, without one blot or
erasure. 1t must have been the fruit of
| careful study, and have cost many rough
copies to have produced so polished a
work; and after beginning "My Dear Miss
Quincy" it went on to say that much
grave thought, Of late, had shown the
writer that it would be unfair to persuade
his reader to leave her comfortable home
for the constant change and misery of bar
rack life, under the disadvantages of an
income as wretchedly small as theirs
would be; that accordingly the dictates
| of conscience (D obliged him to give her
back her promise, a resolution to which
he was the more compelled by the sense
of his own unftness, from nature and cir
| cumstances, to make Miss Quincy happy
After which he added the usual stereo-
typed expressions Of regard and esteem
for the woman he was betraying, trusted
she would forgive him any pam or annoy
ance he might have caused her, and
wound up by signing himself, yours
most sincerely" Good God, what bias
phemyD, Guy Scarsdale"
And |, reading, wondered how He who
rules above could permit so utterly base
and worthless a scoundrel to cumber the
ground; for if ever an honest man longed
to take such a coward by the throat, and
choke the wretched life out of him, | did
| that day. We put the letter behind the
fire that same night. 1t was not well
that, in the event of her recovery, Kate
Quincy should ever cast eyes on it again.
| She lay between life and death for many
weeks, hardly touching food, at times
tevered and wandering; or else lying half
unconscious, or with closed eyes
and furrowed brow. During all that time
| never heard, even in her delirium, one
word ofanger against the man who had
Wronged her. All that ever reached our
! ears was the first cry of agony, and now
| and then the more pitiful reproach,
Guy, Guy, how could you? Oh, love,
how could yOu?'-nothing more, not one
word.
Before she was out of danger Mrs. Cur
ney broke down. Without her daughter
| she was like q feeble plant torn from its
| stick. Indeed, even |, who knew so well
| Miss Gurney's quiet life of usefulness and
sympathy, failed to realize all she was to
her weak and widowed mother, who hav-
| ing leant on her husband till, like too
many Of our city clergymen he dropped
and died in harness. worn out by inces-
SAINT toll, had since his death chung with
| like imDOtent trust to her daughter, and
! that prop also removed, had sunk at once.
| From the day when DR.. Albatross told
her that in all human probability her
| daughter would never walk forth in Gods
sunlight again, the helpless, harmless
woman broke down and faded away; and
| the first thing that reused Miss Quincy to
the life still left her, was the cessation OF
the half-childish murmurs and wall
| ings which had borne witness % the
mothers sorrow, and then the tidings
that, removed from the room where quiet
was so essential, she had taken to her
bed-to die.
Kate Quincy rose up from hers then
| and never left her parent till she had
kissed the trembling lips for the last time
/ Il y
and closed the sightless eyes in death.
Then, when there was nothing more to do
she went back to her couch, and never
left it again till two hours before she died
| Of course, we doctors called this tillal
| devotion utter madness, and asserted that
it had cut off the one faint hope that per
feet rest and freedom from agitation might
have given for her ultimate recovery. |
am not going into technicalities here; il
is enough that the long anxiety and
double shock had affected heart and
spine equally; and the dictum went forth
that though she might live FOR years, sc
she might die at any moment, and In
either case she could never walk abroad
again, never rise from bed or sofa in this
world.
think sec now the patient smile on
her wan face as she said:
Goods will be done. / suppose it is
for some good, since He wills it. l am
glad He has taken my mother into his
care, now mine is useless any more
wonder could any onlooker count up
the amount of good done by that help
less woman during the eighteen years
she Law on her sofa in the little parlor a,
Caroline Place?
Fain would have made her my wife,
when thought the first sharpness of he1
sorrow had come to wear off, but
never got my prayer uttered. She di
vined what | was going to say, and stop
ped me bv word whose exceeding gen
tleness only added force to it's decision
1t was then | knew that her life was to be
sacred to the memory of the man who