Wilmington journal. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1844-1895, 1875-06-11
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| Gn6 quick uOcIIIty OF gentIe 1nGel1-
gence /; and he thought again, s'Noth.
er would have talked for an hour"
The doctor came soon, but not sooI
enough. Willie was very Ill.
Brayely the little fellow struggled,
but the foe was too strong for him.
Strange" the doctor muttered i'm
patiently /; "the last cases are SO often
the worst. I thought it was over for
| this year.
| A week before another lodger in the
! same house, "a gluttonous man, had
made himself i'll feasting on mussles
and plums and beer; he recovered, but
| the poison thus brought into the house
fastened on the weakest there. The
child died. There was nothing more
to be done for him. All at once. for
| the first time in his little life, Willie
wanted-nothing not even his sister.
| She went about her necessary work
with an oppressive, bewildered sense
of leisure upon her. And WTill-if the
! Joyous voice alone had distracted Kim
so, how could he work now ?-now
that it recalled the meek, desolate face
of the mourner now that the cry had
changed into such q pitiful, beseech-
ing Willie Willie ~
happened that VIII paid his rent, and
took that opportunity to inquire after
his fellow lodger.
Poor young thing said the moth
erly landlady, iii makes my heart ache
to see her, up there in the little room.
where they were SO happy, those two.
She says the very walls seem written
with his name, and the things he uaed
to touch cry Alice, Alice, Just as he
called for her, at the last; it is enough
to craze her there isn't an empty
room in the house, or she should have
it for a bit."
"Ask her to change with me-" said
Will eagerly: ''tell her I should be SO
glad, ii she would not mind, the light
there would suit me better"
Alice consented doubtfuIly. ''It
seems like deserting Willie" she said;
''and yet no one has no right to let
oneself get Ill; tell EIr. Blake [ accept
his offer gratefully"
She had grown little stately in her
solitary grief, and VIII stammered
over his premeditated speech. "My
name is Willie, too; couldn't you take
me for your brother?"
"Oh, no." she answered with direct
simplicity, che was SO naughty, the
darling; [ never could have him out of
my thoughts for moment.
Alice herself, had this kind of naught-
mess for VIII, and now, living in her
room, he seemed to be encompassed
by her presence; his tools and work
felt rough and coarse amidst the little
dainty arrangements that marked q
womanly hand.
s'Ifit hadn't been for knowing moth
er," he mused, one evening, II might
fall in love, L do believe; as it is, I
know better
So 'knowing BETTER" he shrank
from al intercourse that might, in
some sharp answer, bring Alice down
from her pedestal, on which he still
chose to place her, justifying his bright
dreams to himself by saying, ''is is
pleasant to make believe, as the child
ren say"
Alice, meanwhile, had found cheer
ing employment in putting Wills
room straight, as she called it. s'Such
q pity, poor man, for him to live in
such muddle, and him so clevertoo."
She had found some torn drawings
in the Uttered fireplace, and carefully
smoothed them out as treasures over
looked.
Will, coming for book, found her
thus busy, and said smiling
''They are Of no use, L don't want
them"
''They seem wonderful to me-" she
said looking up frankly.
''Ab ! just as women's work does to
us. [ put a button on my cuff, this
morning, and it IS off already"
''Let me see it, 1 have needle
here"
Will muttered something about
troubling her." but she answered, 81
ought to do anything I can, you don't
know what good the change of rooms
has done me. L suppose it is like rich
ladies going out of town"
you have made grand improve
ment here, said VIII, looking round;
the same room, the same furniture;but
what had been dreary confusion was
now fair peace.
Il wish ouwould stay here always" )"
he added.
Alice was about to answer, sI do
not mind" not understanding him;
but something in Wits eyes made .,er
own droop, the little figure trembled
over their work; suddenly, Wills hand
caught them. alice, viii you stay
here will you let me love you-be my
wife ?"
She shrank away from him. "I
must mott must not
"Why not ? tell me darling"
"Mother said, when she died, Child,
never marry Father made her SO
wretched."
"We are kindred in tronbIe, then,
that is all, said VIII; "mother, some
how, tormented my father SO, that L
resolved to live and die alone-let us
both give up our hard purposes-will
you, Alice p
Wills tones pleaded better than his
words, they gained him victory.
From the wreck Of the past seemed
to spring a bright future, like the
flowers from out OF last years dead
leaves.
By and by, there was wedding; the
motherly landlady gave Alice away,
and Will took her. as the great gift of
his life.
As they came home from church, he
said, brightly, eve have both resign
ed single blessedness, what shall we
have instead ?"
She nestled close to him and az
swered, "Double blessedness."
Peaceful and brightly the years went
on, till even old Mr.. Blake learnt to
| believe in youth and love and Eappi-
ness; more especially, when q little
fairy granddaughter came to clasp mis-
hand and toddle in his footsteps.
One day, when fos a wonder, Wills
sleeve had no button on, he came to
his wife for her to sew one on; some
thing in her attitude, as she sat before
| him with the morning sunshine on her
| hair, reminded him Of that first work
of hers when his love grew up almost
in night.
"Dou you remember the first button
you put on for me, like fetter round
my wrist. cunning Aiice?' he said,
smilingly.
"Would you be loosed now, if you
could, she asked, with a tender look
| of defiance.
t "Ah no this, onr life is is" tender
merry voice broke in calling, ''Fa-
ther I'-he ended, with a thankful
sigh, Cripple bIessednsss !"-Losdo'a