The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1875-01-02

Ma, na, lady Not uncared for,
not unpitied, cried the old woman
" | ran alter her myself till my twa feet
bent under me, bat / couldna reach
her, sinsyne l was aud an she young
an light, an she almost flew. She
seemed daft, poor thing, vie the fear
and trouble
That night they brought the young
master hame. They brought him
hame, forbye he couldna come himself.
"A railroad hurt, they said; an they
laid him doom in Elsie's bed an the
doctor bided here the leelong night;
but no use-he died afore morn"
And the old woman burst i. to bitter
sobbing and wailing
My God Oh, my God moaned
the girl, looking up with glazed, tear
less eyes.
"Ah, mel" continued Nurse Martha,
wlplng her wet face with her apron,
that was the hardest of a.; for then I
knawed Elsie was game forever; an
deed SO she was
Weel, we maun feel for the
troobled, an auld master carried sair
heart ABBOTT vie him alter that Puir
man he's dead an game moo; but afGre
he died he repented him sorely !"
Repented And what good did his
repentance z" exclaimed the girl Wild
ly, starting from her seat and hurriedly
pacing the room. Could repentance
call back the hopes he blighted
Coutd repentance heal the hearts he
broke? Could repe,atance-his repent
ance-bring the dead t. life p
The old woman started forward with
quick cry, and, laying the sleeping
child down on chair, she caught the
girls dress with her trembling hands.
q Miss Elsie Miss Elsie +! It is it
is [ know We moo Sure an you're not
yourself tonight, birdie, or We couldna
speel such uncanny words ABBOTT the
dead. Coon to auld Nursie, darling
to old Nurse, that alwa' lo'ed you.
Ma, no, grille grille, you're not your
sell, or We wouldna bide a moment in
your heart an not forgive him."
4" Forgive him! Never never =
never cried Elsie, shaking off the
clinging fingers, and resuming her rapid
walk. "He drove me from home He
cursed me,
But | was young, and pretty, and
graceful, and so | found paying work
at last. Such work Ha, ha ,-ha ha /!
Only to think of it, Nursiel Elsie
Cameron, the only daughter of proud
Scotch father, singing and dancing be
hind the footlights in crowded theatre
in New York City. the queen, the
beauty Ia petite, little farie,
the new and brilliant star, the artistic
whose smiling face and tripping feet
were greeted with round after round of
applause-s1lch was | at night But in
the daytime, IN my own little room, and
by Arthur's bedside, / was simply poor
Elsie, the miserable, broken, hearted
! woman, doomed SO soon to be alone in
the world. All it was brave life, and
a happy lot, my loving and repentant
father sentenced me to- But Arthur
never knew it. Dear Arthur it would
have broken his heart if he had. He
thought [ was employed as a soprano
singer in the church choir, and | never
undeceived him. Why should I?
Well, this dreadful lie went on. /
laughed. and sang, and danced the
nights away, while at home the hectic
on Arthurs face deepened, and the
racking cough grew worse and worse,
and his weak hands almost refused to
hold the pen with which he labored for
he, too, had to work, sick and dying as
he was The poor have not even time
to die in peace!
And 50 one night L came home
brighter and more hopeful than usual
(for [ had just been paid, and they had
raised my salary. [ came home and
found Arthur sitting III his easy-chair
with his eyes fixed on the door, waiting
for me. My darling! My darling
waiting SO quietly-so patiently, Only
the body, not the soul; that was through
waiting forever!
Oh, God Even the last look, the
last kiss was denied me. For was | not
cursed?
Well, Nurse, it was all over then.
l did not struggle after that, but just
lay down and drifted with the tide, and
prayed to die. Then Nellie came, and
/ had something else to live for, and SO
| tried once more. But my strength
was gone; and great fear came upon
friendless and alone, to starve in the
streets of the city, and SO | brought her
here. VIII you take her, Nursie, and
teach her to be good? [ know father
willed his property to you and George,
so it must all belong to you now. |
leave her with you. Martha. [ shall
never trouble any one again.
"Ye mauna gaze DOT the night, Miss
Elsie - cried the nurse, stopping the
girl as she attempted to pass through
the door.
ooh but | must Martha !" said Elsie.
laughing lightly, as she drew the faded
shawl tighter across her shoulders.
"Let me go, Nurse Martha Don't
hold me 50; you hurt me y
But Martha did not release her hold,
but instead, unclasped the cold hands
and drew the weary head down until it
rested on her shoulder. And there, |
with loving words and tender caresses,
she stilled the nnquiet spirit until the
wild stare passed away, and the hard
lines about the eyes and mouth relaxed |
and softened. And through all the |
live, ong night she talked of the loving
Jesus, of His gentleness and patient
suffering, His death, and His earnest |
entreaty: "Come unto me all We that !
are heavy ladenl' until step my step
the wanderer was led back to the fold. !
And there, in the gray cleaning, two
trembling hands were folded together |
in prayer, and with bitter, penitent sobs
and tears, a broken heart laid its bur
den humbly down at the foot of the
cross.
ooh, Lord Oh, Lord Thou know
est nv heart, and forgive me, as / for