The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1877-09-20

by the time Preached q e open hall
door, alady, alone, wa coming up.
the steps fromtbe carr se sheRas
very cry young ricl.Iyrobed andinstant,
ly:addressed me
s' Are you not my broiser Roscoe's
swife9Y she asked. 4 is sister
QEaI in ev
! don't remember how ! Welcomed
her, but l threw open the drawing
room door, and she entered and drop
ped into a seat.
"Where is Roscoe? Ihavecome
ostay with you," she said, her face
pale as ashes.
1 took vague alarm at her ap-
pearance, but l endeayored to speak
as usual.
aYOu are tired-ill. Lay off your
wraps and let me get you a glass Of
wine."
I went across the hall to the china
closet. When I came back she lay
in dead faint upon the floor.
Roscoe had gone out of town, and
did not return until evening. 1 had
Ora taken to q room next to mine
and put to bed. She was a mere
delicate child when undressed, not
more than seventeen years old.
"0h, how good you are-how good
you are!" she said, with heart render
ing pathos, as I bathed her temples
and rubbed delicate limbs. I had
studied medicine a little with my
father, and l knew she was close up
on fever. AT length shelay warm
and quiet, and soon fell asleep.
1 sat up until eleven o'clock wait
ing for Roscoe. AT length l heard
his step in the hall. l hurried to
meet him,
He looked astounded at my news.
"Why what docs it mean2' he asked.
The next morning Ora was in a
burning fever. She talked incoher-
entlyzshe did not know me. She
lay very ill for three weeks.
Poorgirl! at one time it seemed
certain that she would die, but we
kept her.
AT last her first act of conscious
ness was to kiss me, and murmur:
81 love you'll"
AT last she could sit up and talk a
little. And then she told Roscoe and
me her story.
1 will not repeat it here. 1t was a
tale too sickening; ofhuman passions
inaamed with liquor of mans tyran-
ny; Of woman's weakness. Her hus-
band was false to her and to his man
hood. She clung to him, pleading;
he knocked her senselcss at his feet.
And, before that she had borne-oh,
pitiful heavens, so muchl
"Ho has killed my love for him."
she said, white and shuddering, 81
am afraid of himl / had rather die
than live with him againl Let me
stay here! Here he will not find me.
Oh, Roscoe Constance, let me stay
with youl"
We soothod promised earnest
ly that she should stay, protected,
beloved by us. For the conversation
was most hurtful to her, and nearly
brought on relapse of her fever.
So l found what l never had-a
sister-and I think VIC made her as
happy as she possibly could be after
terrible blight upon her youth. She
found q fund of comfort in little Ly-
10, who was very fond of her, calling
her "Lolo" in his soft, lisping ac-
cent, She was most unsclfish and
sympathetic in disposition, and this
latter trait won from me, at least, a
confidence.
She sat with me, sewing, in my
chamber one day. Roscoe had just
sent out from town a package of new
books wished to see. We had look
ed them ovor-promised ourselves
much enjoyment in the long winter
evenings coming.
"What splendid man Roscoe Isl"
Ora said, thoughtfully. "Ho is q
companion-a friend--ho is interest
cd in everything you care for-he
councils your wishes-ministers to
your tastes. Now my husband never
seemed to care for anything only to
own mel"
She seldom or never referred to her
hnshond IL soou,od to mnke hnr