The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1878-05-23

" Ii ne aWakenS rational and comfort
able, he is saved" said the doctor. ssIf,
on the contrary, he falls into state of
coma, nothing can help him.
Hours passed on. Every tick of the
silver-tongued repeater on the mantle
seemed to find an echo in the hearts of
! the anxious watchers. At last the crit
ical moment came. The Squire awoke
free from fever, though weak as child.
He was saved. 7l E. .gsr
At first Hilda kept as much as possible
out of his sight, shrinking into the
shadow of the heavy damask curtains
when he was awake. But he did not
seem to notice her, and she gradually
forgot her caution. 49,. 4
During his long and tedious GONZALES
cence he was often querulous and in
tractable. Then Hilda would take a
book and read to him in her low musi-
cal voice, and thus scothe him to sleep.
She was only waiting until her pres
ence was not absolutely needed to go
back to her self-imposed duty at the
hospital. One morning she had been
reading the Times, until the Squire was,
as she thought, asleep. Then the paper
dropped istlessly in her lap. Her
thoughts, unmindful of time and space,
were with him she loved SO faithfully
and self-saerifcingly. #9l o5
A trembling voice suddenly reused her
from her reverie:
"Hannah tells me you are going
away. Is it necessary? Can any other
sick person need you as much as do?"
Hilda looked at the old man in sur
prise. A cadence, born of loneliness
and sorrow, in his voice, touched her
unspeakably; and as she recalled the
hale, hearty Squire, who often rode by
the farm in the pleasant old days, calling
out a cheerful good-morning to her
uncle in his stentorian tone, tears came
| to her eyes to see what wreck of his
former self he had become. s+t
After brief hesitation she said softly:
If you need me will not go away
| for the present.'' tt-ss ~
81 do need you very much" was the
| reply. $50 that matter is settled.
Now, nurse, want to ask you ques-
ton. Have I ever seen you before?
| Somehow your face seems familiar, but
can not place it," # e5'tt ~
Hilda felt the blood dying her face,
even to the border of her cap. She
turned away, ostensibly to adjust the
folds of a curtain, in reality to avoid
reply.
Just then Hannah came in with the
mail. Important news from the army
was expected, there having been rumors
of an engagement.
I" Get the paper, nurse, and run over
the war items.H
Hannah caught the words and passed
on her way out. In her way she was
as much interested as the Squire. Was
it not her nursing who was far away
on the battlefield striving to win his
spurs?
Hilda took the paper and ran her
eyes over the columns. One pitiful
moan escaped her lips; the next mo-
ment she lay apparently lifeless on the
floor. The heavy fall loosened her cap,
and her hair rolled in all its rich luxu-
rance around her-a kindly mantle that
hid her deathly face from even old Ham
nah's plying eyes. ,4,s.yF.. y
A dash of cold water soon revived
her, and as soon as the fright occasion
ed by her sudden illness had subsidized,
the Squire took the paper, and saw fac
ing him in staring letters: ~
.#a A ABLooDY ENGAGEMENT. ~
Great loss Of officers and men-Cyril Ather-
ton, of the Grays, mortally wounded,
while endeavoring to silence
a battery. H-e.s
The letters swan before his eyes. He
could read no more. He rose feebly
and gged his shaking limbs to Hill
da's side. Rtggss5J @H IT. 1HiitGa I
"My poor GIRL" he said,. brokenly.
But he did not finish his sentence; for
at the sound of his voice, Hilda opened
her eyes and looked at him, first in a
dazed, bewildered way, then she put out
both hands and motioned him away.
"We have killed him between us! Do
you hear? You and I! Oh, my darling!
my darling!'' 4l.isissoq1aa
The Squire turned to Hannah:
"Who is this young womanp''
"Lord bless us, sir. Didn't you know
it was Hilda? Master Cyril's Hilda,
who has been risking her own life to
save YOURS ?'' .lel.i''~T ~ '.if- a'a'
Hilda's voice interrupted them:
ss The grave is the lonesome couch we
have given. your bonny head, and your
father may think it better one for you
than your low-born Hilda's arm. Oh,
my own Cyril, could you but know
how my heart ached when l shut the
door in your face, and sent you to do
your duty; but you never, never viii be
the wiser! You have gone forever, and
thinking, too, that Hilda was cruel and
heartless.4 Oh, cruel Hilda !iqand more
cruel father!n 4 l.s.l .i.i sat9G s.itt
1t made the old mans frame culver
like an aspen leaf to hear the bereaved
girl. He felt himself almost murder
or q 9 the low nj laintirn tones ,oada I h OH.