The Cecil Whig., 1878-11-09
0UT OF THE STORM
ny 4 NEW CuNTRiBCrui..

- 'r"'' - N''--' Wv "a i'' ~ u W. with
heads bowed and thrusi f,rward 10 cut
their way through the storm. il,lle cLi-
dren skunk under the protecting shadows
OF doorways and such rude shelter A. could
he found; while poor, wretched women
brayed the borrow of that terrible night
from dire necessity. One among them-a
pale faced creature, with look Of mortal
terror III her countenance. and ho seemed
to have known more c!Cery times lifted
her head from time tp time, scanning tie
faces she met in an anxious, questioning
way, that seemed 20 meet with no response
from the passers by.
At last, as though she felt II useless TO
hope longer. she turned aside To wait un-
der the princely caves of large church
To wait. as We all come To do when the
HUSH oi youthful expectancy has passed
out OF our lives He will no; come; per
haps the weather is too severe, yet it could
not keep within doors" she marmured,
drsolation and WEAKNESS creeping over her
face: and then there remains but one
thing To do, and the snorcr that is done
the better it will be FOR me: but oh. it is so
hard I" beg. Oniy twenty five, alone,
without friends. and, what is far more
necessary money
/ She started forward 10 meet the glance
Of a man with 4 kind, pleasant face, gem
/ tie almost woman's. She noted it
even then; she remembered ii through all
the years that came after. Sir, | am
starving. For the love oc Heaven, give me
enough to buy single loaf Of bread
. lie was generons man, rs men ro-one
who gave largely to charitable institutions
and his name stood among the first on
the church list: but he was man who
knew nothing of real poverty. and withal
he did know how many Of the refuge of
society obtained a livelihood by begging.
/ so lac passed by-as others had dome
suddenly out of his memory crept tie
words, " inasmuch as We have done il unto
one OF these We have done il unto me-"
| Back through the rain and >lush he made
his way to find something buried under
heap OF clothes. lie touched it. but there
was no movement, he spoke and tried to
push bank note into her open hand, but
the woman lay where she had fallen ap-
! pa!eutly dead
What brute have been. How could
| have forgotten SO soon he spoke aloud,
and the only answer he had was from the
wind aud rain. \ policeman passing on
his round Was hailed a carriage called, ard
he lifted the inanimatc form in his arms,
saying to the driver, :" No. l05 Arlington
Place. Drive fast, and double your fare
3" / wonder if she will die: # She does
1t will seem like 4 just retriburion for that
other Then a tear came into the eyes
| aud fell on the fair face of the girl. She
was still unconscious, but moment after
and his home was reached
Helen, I've done an odd thing 10 night:
| picked up woman on the street and
brought her home with me; the why and
wherefore have not attempted to analyze.
Get her to bed, send Frank for DIR. Gray,
and then let Us have dinner, for | am
| hungry as 4 wolf, and after fashion un-
nerved. How long is it since-since ,ha.
time, Helen -
Mrs. Arnold was not young woman,
bu: there a look in her sweet beautiful
face, that age alone, had never brought
look that told of some grief that had been
wrought by her own hand some act that
was now irretrevable, bat which she
sought to atone for, in every thought and
word ami deed. She was a proud woman.
but now her pride was all forgotten, and
her voice trcnbled and he. lips quivered as
she answered, - IL will be ten years the
sixteenth Of the month Harvey dear"
then hestatingly, why have you broken
the silence tonight -
- hardly know but ii he were no, dead,
| should believe in some way news was
coming to Us of our lost ones; yes, both,
Helen after all these years"
An hour later 4 servant entered the
room and announced =. Dc. Gray" Mr..
Arnold rose TO meet him, while his wife
extended her hani, :" Well, Doctor, ,re are
not in need OF your services but Harvey
has concluded 10 open a hospital for the
poor, aged aud inii'rn, and has desired 10
obtain your assistance as head physician
| with an opening case up stairs
Mrs. Arrold, wait your pleasure. re-
fusng for the present all the hospitality
you cifer here below
Speaking in the pleasant, gracious man
ner that people use when performing any
act nf charity which does not 1t all inter
f.re with individual comfort, Mrs. Arnold
aud the physician passed up the stair case
into bright cosy room, where they were
greeted by the cheerful warmth of a coal
fire, the soft, subdued glimmcr ut gas lights
turned down. On the bed lay the woman
they had come To see, thoroughly restored
10 consciousness but with a brilliant color
on her cheeks that seemed To beiokrn fever
DR.. Gray looked grave as he held the
small, wasted hand in his, and counted
the beating of the pulse. Too rapid"
he said, under his breath No you must
not talk, but remain perfectly quiet; rest
is what you need You are in good hands,
and tomorrow, if you are better. you may
tell all that you have on your mind
There was an air OF retirement about
this waif that even fastidious Mrs. Arnold
noticed, and she saw the look of gratitude
that weled up from the depths of the deep,
dark eyes, though the lips uttered no word
| Lending over, she whispered, " Wait unit
tomorrow. The doctor thinks you require
rest, and dare not infringe upon his or
ders. Ellen will remain with you, and you
may be assured that we feel deep interest
| IN your welfare. Good night: try and
sleep
Give her three powders every two
hours, said the doctor, and then he passed
out of the room.
How often We go to meet our fate with
out knowing II. The things we look for,
the sweet anticipations of life slip, often