Western sentinel. [volume] (Winston [i.e. Winston-Salem], N.C.) 1856-1886, 1878-11-28

He asked no questions. AS in
a dream he fancled that some siren
had given him to drink of the lotus
eaters cup, and that he would be
content to lie there in supine help
lessness forever.
But the second day when he
awoke, and felt his strength coming
back anew, his faDcies vanished.
L must request my ministering
angel to send me home" he
thought. ff
He looked about the little cham
Der, but she was not there
But through the open door he
caught futter of white garments
and a simmer of dead-gold hair.
DIR Wllletts tells me that your
gentle nursing has saved his life,
mans low whisper was saying.
My dear little wife, what treas
ure yoa are
Then followed a briet murmur ell
colloquy, unconsciously telling the
listener that grave difficulties of
some kind had beset their welded
love.
They are troubled for want of
money he thought, 'and i have
been a burden to Them, but their
burden shall be bag of gold to
them
Then be called fairtly.
His lovely nurse came quickly
10 him, her lovely cheeks flushed
like sunrise on snow.
L have heard that you saved my
life, he said.
And what moreS' she asked
confusedIy.
THAT you are in some sort OF
trouble he smiled. 'W i'll you let
me help you2 1t is my duty, and
it IS your right to ask what you
will. Anything you ask is yours
Anything? she returned, her
sweet face whitening and anxious.
Yes: he answered 81 am quite
rich enough to give all ycu may
ask
1T is not of money I am speak
ing, she responded, proudly, but
with that sort of pride that seems
sacrificing something of itself. Il
think you have some influence with
one who is making us-my hus~
band and me-very unhappy
could you persuade one, do you
think, that it is best to let true
love have its way, and that l would
not make-an unworthy wife?'
Two big tears lay on the soft
cheeks, and her womanly eyes were
full upon him.
AN unworthy wife! Why, my
dear child, [ should consider NY
self fortunate man if your hus-
band could be my own son, if |
had one. 'Ah ! what is this p
AS he spoke, Albert Guion, ag-
ftated and embarrassed, advanced
to the bedside and drew the pret-
ty pleader within his strong arms.
'Tlien you will not allow mother
to be too unkind to lis, Uncle Reg
inald p
'Whlch do you care more for, her
affection or your birthright Q he
asked, sterrly.
4 care for both, uncle was. the
answer; 'bnt for Susie more tl.an
ALL
There was long silence then.
Reginald Douglas was battling
with his pride ard the oldcn ten
derness that still made his life so
bitter, as well as with the hunor-
Gus sense of his position.
we shall see, he said at last !;
'send for your mother, aud let me
think alone
Albert Gnion led his young wife
out of the room, ard for long
time the proud man lay watching
the sunshine playing on the wall,
and thinking Of the old, dear time,
when one sweet face had been more
precious TO him than favor or for
tune, and Of the agony and madness
that had sickcnec him when lac had
lost the one love OF his life.
After all it is not stone but flame
under the ashes OF my heart he
unused but his face was set and
hard, and his stormy eyes were
stern.
So thought the slender, graceful
woman who f1uttcred and tremb.ed
: she came noisclessly into the cham
Der with white-satin-shod ieet.5
Pardon me- she said, and her
voice. had the ring of silvery bells.
Il was looking for my niece. Twas
not aware that
Then she stopped and blush
flashed over the unfaded beauty of
her conntenance. .ats.;-
She had never been false to: him
except III deem;ng him untfue, and
he, i'll his softened mood, spoke to
her as lover speaks to the one wo-
man Of his lifelong worship.
You are .inine,' he said at last,
drawing her closely to him, <you arc
mine by the right of discovery and
possession, and | shall hold you in
NV arDoo ,,nf;l ro,, o,o.so - H.