The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1875-03-20

"Oh, no; that's not my meaning, my GEAR,
replied Miss De Brooke, quickly. but, you
see, the poor soul just sits sad and Silent an
the dav, and Pm not encouraged 10 reia.e
my "reminiscences, which is great loss u
herr'
81 am afraid she doesn't appreciate your
kindness" said Mrs. Fenwick. and so saiu
the BENEFITS, and Mrs. Averlll ana every
body. M
ooh. I'm sure she Does" said Miss De
Brooke. "She's only ethargic-Dr. Harri,,
man saws so-but she will develope, you IL
see." ,.
And what might be called development
followed speedily. AS Mrs. Tracy lay Weah
and listless on the couch in Miss De Brooke
room one morning, she overheard some rag
ments of a conversation in reference 10 her-
self two of Miss De Brooke's visitors hav-
ing fingered on the perch while expressing
their minds.
sHave l seemed ungrateful?" said she,
abruptly, when Miss De Brooke 1e-entered
the room. "But, indeed, l am not ungrale-
full. NV only regret in leaving this lie Is
that shall never be able to repay your gooo-
ness to mef'
She stood confronting Miss De Brooke. her
wasted hands trembling, her thin race nusn-
ing and paling. A wretchedly broken woman
she was, and neither young nor pretty noW'
whatever she might once have been.
"Oh. no. indeed, my dear, you are not un-
grateful. / understand it; it is only lethar-
sic YOU are" said Miss De Brooke, soothlng-
". with sense of comfort in Dr: Harri-
mans big word: "Youll develop IN tme'
aud-and-just you never nina me, my uear'
Pm not greedy for gratitude"
wan smile flickered an instant over the
moor woman's pale lips; then. covering her
face with her hands, she sat down on the lit
tIe couch. and the slow tears fell through her
fingers and dropped in her lap.
ooh, don't, don't my dear?' Whispered
Miss De Brooke, nervously turning mer Poc ae
cts inside out in search of her handke rchlei.
"Mv feelings are so sympathetic, and I'd al
ways rather not cry if possible; it has IA
Observation-Disclosures to produce-catarrh."
81 am not crying now" said Mrs. Tracey,
resolutely wiping her eyes; but Mrs. LIE
Brooke was.
"Ne-ne-never you mind me, my dear,",
sobbed she. "This spring weather would
| have given me catarrh all the same, ana l
know whatll cure it. You just cry on, II us
| agreeable to your feelings; dare say It's
breaking up of your lethargy."
| Mrs. Tracey smiled family, but shook her
| head. ,or
| long time,' said she, sadly; but the end IS
| coming, it is almost here"
ooh, my dear, don't say that! Such a rich
| eXperienceY' signed MISS LIE Droohe HUH NC
| hind her handkerchief.
"And YOU don't even know who am"
| continued Mrs. Tracey, with feeling.
sWe are Just even there, my DEAR" said
Miss De Brooke, consolingy, as she revealed
her tear stained face; ''for you don't know
| who am"
eyes, 1 d." was the quick reply. "You
| are one of Gods angels; you've shown 1t by
YOUR loving kindness to friendless stran-
ger:'' and with this she put out her hands
and drew Miss De Brooke down to her sac. -,
cried" saws Miss De Brooke. when she re-
lates the story as she is rather fond of doing;
"and, wonderful to tell, it didn't produce ca
| tarrh. A little weeping, suppose, is pad,
! bnt a good deal clears the head, and alter
ward didn't seem to mind my debts at all.
knew all the time that l was nothing but
plain little body of forty odd, but 1t was very
gratifying, nevertheless, to be caeu an a y;
Gel, and didn't say aword against 1t IN d.
rect terms, only showed her the silhou-
cites of nv family, and told her, as felt in
| duty bound to do, that my name was not
originally De BrooLe, but only plain Brook.
| ssAnd then she cried out, Il knew 1t; L
knew it from the very first, and meant to
die without revealing myself to you, but l
can't. Look at me. old Honor Bright, ana
| say whether you know meP
| my dear, 1 felt my hair rise on end, tor
Honor Bright was the name went by among
those Girls at Madame Rand's and it wasn't
meant exactly as compliment. l hadn't
heard it for many long day, but the sound
of it made me as limp as rag, for l knew
without further words that the poor, faded
hollow-eyed woman had befriended was
Euphemia Rand. It's very solemn to find
vonrself unexpectedly heaping Goals of fire
| on an enemy's head, and hadn't word TO
say so;.a pn,ho
| mia Rand a kindness when you took pe in,
know said she, for gave you world OF
trouble at school; but when you came for me,
1 hadn't the heart nor courage to tell you
who was'
ooh, my DEAR" said l, you've been
| through yicissitudes. and you seem differ
emit person now, and thankful 1 am to be-
friend YOU; but I thought your husband s
name was Crafts"
"And then she told me her story, a sad, sad
story it is, of the loss of two husbands, and
poverty, and sickness. and suffering, poor
Tito think of Euphemia Rand going
through all that, and then finding shelter
with me! Didn't say there would be de-
velopmentT
And, of course, after such a development,
nobody could show inst cause why Madame
Rand's daughter should not continue to
make her home with Miss De Brooke, especi-
ally as it was evident that she could not lin
ger long.
Yet, though Miss De Brooke had some
ready and helpful friends, who did what they
could to tighten her selt-imposed burden, the
| poor little woman did not find it so easy to
bear it, for the invalid, as her strength de.
clined, grew every day more querulous and
exacting; and Miss De Brooke, with all the
aid and sympathy she had, and with all the
energy and management she exercised, did
not find her debts decrease; yet her courage
ever mounted with the occasion.
81 don't think could bear the strain, my
DEAR" said she, in confidence, to one friend
and another" "if were all alone as form
erly. Debt is a new experience, and very IN
structiye. never was conscious of the eX-
tent OF my extravaganza when l lived alone
but now begin to understand the practice Of
economy. Such useful experience! But this
is deeply confidential, for that poor child
mustn't suspect that I am in tight place.
She is too weak to be worried about trifeS
I must, at any cost, keep her in ignorance OF
nv financial endorsements until she regains
her strength" For, in spite of the verdict
of the doctors, in spite OF the evidence OF her
own senses, Miss De Brooke believed in the
ultimate recovery of her patient.
sPlease God, she shall not die" said Miss
| De Brooke somewhat in the spirit OF my
Uncle Tobey;" but neither watchful care mol
| tender nursing, nor many an earnest prayer
could avail; and one bright, beautiful day
when all the world seemed waking into new
life, Mrs. Tracy diec.
She left her benefactress legacy OF debt
that called for many hard days work to liq-
uidate, yet Miss De Brooke wept tears of gen.
uine sorrow over her grave. ITO think
she sobbed, that nobody should weep fol
Euphemia Rand-and remember her such a
gay, bright girl but the poor, stupid crea-
ture she made so much fun of! Such are
lifes vicissitudes."
But Miss De Brooke did not waste her time
in sentimental sorrows; she cheelfuIly. re
sumed her usual occupations, and working
early and late, struggled bravely to repay
what she owed, but alas the poor little wom-
ans strength had become oyertaxed, and she
fell i'll very soon after Mrs. yracey's death
Her friends, one and all, by way of improving
the oocosion, said, 81 told you sop and,
having nursed her through her fever, they
felt entitled to give some sound advice.
'.Dear Miss De Brooke" said they, 'before
ever you take an important step again, dc
consult your friends; your heart is so apt to
run away with your head.
''But can't be sorry for what I've done,'
said Miss De Brooke, with meek obstinacy
and, not long after this, very singular thing
| - lor in fhtcI