The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1876-04-21

whole frame trembled. She wished at
that moment, so happy seemed her fate,
that she could die then and there.
"Oh, Doctor" said she, lifting her
eyes to his, show can tell youa how
can l make you knowf 1 am not his
wifei"
The doctor drew back coldly but as
her frank, earnest eyes caught his own,
he could not resist the innocent pleading
there. She might be poor Magdalen
even, but he had never seen 30 child-like
and yet womanly q creature.
eve must think of nothing now but
our patient" he said gently your face
is at least familiar and dear to him."
g ALIAS no." she said sit is strange,
almost unknown. tits far better should
go away"
Then she told the doctor all. And as
she went on to confess how she had
dared shelter this poor neighbor Of hers,
without O roof to cover him, without
money, without friends, sick unto death
at any risk to shelter him and to nurse
him back to ife-the good surgeons
eyes blinked under his shaggy brows.
He put his heavy hand in benediction
upon her bowed head.
"Thou good little Samaritan I" he
said.
And two big, hollow, handsome eyes
upon the white bed in the corner also
filled with tears. He was so weak, this
poor young Blake, that he could scarcely
help sobbing outright at so touching a
story.
Why-why," he faltered to himself,
Sin little Miss Turpin's room o thou
merciful Heaven in little Miss Turpin' s
bed With the CHEEKY little fire in the
CRATE to foil yonder biting blast, with all
the knick- knacks and furbelows about
the little pictures on the wall, her bird
cage at the window, and neat little med
icine stand, with lots of spoons in vari-
GUS doses, each spoon with little Miss
Turpin's name; and to her, then, under
Heaven, owe my life | All, may God
do so to me, and more also, if L desert
little Miss Turpin, or let little Miss Tur-
pin desert me I"
"And now." said the sweet, sad voice
of little Miss Turpin, "take me to his
bed side. am foolishly weak +; can
scarcely see. Let me look upon him
just once more before l go. You will
take care of him now, doctor, won't
you9 But let me say good-by."
| The doctor, undecided, scarcely know
ing what to say, half carried her to the
bed.
Good-by, good-by," she said, bend
| ng over him, her warm tears falling on
his pale, sunken face, her hot, tremb-
ling hands clasping themselves together.
| But suddenly two other hot trembling
hands seize hers in feeble grasp-the
hollow, sunken eyes of the student fas-
ten themselves upon Miss Turpin's face
with hungry tenderness.
ooh, no" he said, "you cannot go
from here, not for the world you see
the good doctor has said it will not do
to have strange face at my bedside.
Yours is the dearest to me in the world.
love you, Miss Turpin. tits, perhaps,
sad fate 1 offer you but, oh be still
more generous-be my wife. / have,
dear little Miss Turpen-oh |! / have
loved you long!"
He didn't say how long; he was too
weak to talk. He didn't tell her that
perhaps his love dated only a little
half-hour back, when he listened to
that wondrously touching little story of
hers.
What mattered it2 Cannot love be as
strong as life and deep as the sea, how
soever and when it is borne9 Good DR
Havershaw took care of their future. 1t
began in a neat, two-story brick, with a
big brass sign upon the door, to which
the worthy surgeon drew attention
enough to set the pot boiling.
And now in her stylish brougham,
with liveried lackey at her command,
with her rusthng silks and dainty laces,
with her widest fancies more than
realized, who could find fault with the
fate of little Miss Turpin ?-Harpcr's
Weekly.