Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1877-07-19

"Well. Msfyr
"Sure. Mis-. you DO - = 6ool
with your money. an sshaa = tsll
ycO-"
"Tell me whats -
"Well. Miss. It's shout t. ysuag
man that rinted my room. q mind
where the w,dder died 1ast n1umn.
He came week ago. Miss. . - sew
er came down stairs for three e 1(iss;
. this morning / went up. he IL
sick with the fever-in his - fntire-
ly. Miss Ellen, ifyou can only I'D"
"wsit, Mary. I'll 70 with s.
D)ls9petsss1Idsto ogDav 11<>5Gndz
and added a close silk bonnet. with :
thick veil.
"Come. Mary" and the two left the
house together.
In low, close room, on pallet bare
lay Mary O'Brien's lodger. The face
which lay against the coarse ticking OF
the pillow was such - one fancies for
that of his favorite poet. The hair was
dark, waving over a broad. white FORE
head; the eyes were hazel, large and
full; and the features delicate. Usual
ly the face was pale, but was now crim-
son with fever. The eyes were fierce
and wild. But even with this, the face
was beautiful with an honest uncsrthly
beauty. In that poor. low room. Ellen
came like a saving angel. She gave
one glance at the sick mans face, then
crossed the room to his side.
ELLEN =" said the sick man; "El.
len ~
"He knows me-" she murmured,
drawing back.
But the young man mcaned her name
again, and then broke forth into wild,
delirious rawlings.
MARY" said Ellen, "send Patrick to
me-"
Mary left the room, and Ellen turned
to the table to find paper and pencil.
She wrote hasty notes, one to her house
keeper for pillows and sheets, and an
other to DR.. Stanley, who did not guess
who the friend was that sent him SO
much practice among the poor patients,
and saw that he was we'll paid.
Having dispatched Patrick with the
two notes Ellen tried 10 make the DESC
late room seem more home-like. Lift
ing from the table a waistcoat. some
thing dropped from the pocket to the
floor. II was q small miniature case,
open, and painted on the ivory, was
Ellen's face.
A smile. gentle and plying came to
her lips.
"He did love me, then, really-real-
ly love me: and would not seek me,
with the fortune-hunter who follow
me! This is the reason l have missed
him so long"
"Arrai,, Miss here's the DOCTOR"
Stop him, Mary, will go in here.
r. member. Mary, you don't know my
name."
Ellen went into another room-a door
was ajar, and DR.. Stanley's first excla-
nation reached her:
Harold! Have found you at last,
and in such place :"
Ellens eyes ranged over the capabil-
tiles of the room in which she stood,
saying. at will do; it is larger and bet
ter than the other, but poor place at
the best"
The xtday. when Dr.. Stanley called
to see his patient, Mary O'Brien. with
pardonabe pride, ushered him into the
room that had been vacant before. A
soft carpet was on the floor. and fire
IN the CRATE, the latter shaded from the
bed by neat screen. Soft white mus
lin curtains draped the windows. The
bed could hardly be recognized with its
pillows. counterpane and sheets. A
little table stood beside the bed, with
the medicines he had ordered, and an
exquisite goblet of cooling drink.
THE lady, We mind, told you Of
that STINT We to Terence" said Mary,
"she sint all the nice things and helped
me to arrange them yesterday, and my
good man and moved in here to-day,
so she II find him here when she comes.
It's asleep he's been for better'n two
hours"
Two hours! Harold was still sleep
ing, but he soon awose and looked with
surprise about him. The cold, cheer
less aspect Of the place wss changed rs
ifby enchantment; and-Harcld thought
he was dreaming-an angel face bent
over him with plying eyes. and smile
tender as a loving mothers over her
darling child.
Ellen p' he whispered, "Oh. that
could die in such dreamr'
"Was il a dream ?" the sweet voice
answered him.
Harold. you viii not die: you will
live for me. Your genius shall be re-
cognized, your pictures sought. No
more struggling for life. but only for
fame"
And the tears fell ss she spoke.
DR.. Stanley, standing in the doorway,
recognized the ballroom belle. the OBJ
ject Of his friends long. silent. hopeless
love.
Softly he glided down the stairs, for
he knew that q better medicine than he
could have prescribed was within the
patients grasp.
A short time after, the world said:
Just to think Of Ellen Msrston. rich
and such belle. marrying Harold Cra-
ban, the poor artist J"
t%Talking about physiological ex-
minationS m Ornn4e street mana Wife