Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1878-03-13

atteinpt W uo ~ uOW, lOT HeI inotu-
, mother grew i'll; daily she became
/ weaker. At last the shadow of a
, coming trouble grew dark upon
, her life path. Tae mother also
; was dying. In the silent night Ris-
pah knelt beside her.
, "Mother," she whispered, "you
are going to leave me. Unjust con-
fess the truth to you. l have met
Henry Thorn. We love each other.
Give us your blessing, mother?'
But the mother, with strangely
sparkling eyes, clutched her hand,
and sat up in the bed. Excitement
had given her strength.
"Rispah, Rispah," she said, 81
am dying. You know that but /
will not bless so unnatural union.
Swear to me that you will never
marry Henry Thorn. Swear that
or / curse you with my dying
breath. You shall never marry the
son of your fathers murderer"
"Oh, mother, MOTHER" cried Ris-
pah.
The mother lifted her hand. 81
curse" she began.
"Oh, mother" screamed Rispah.
"Mother l promise"
"Bless you, darling" sobbed the
mother. Remember you have
sworn it to your dying parent"
She sank upon her pillow again
and drew her daughter to her
breast. For many moments the
mother and child lay clasped in one
long embrace, then Rispah, lifted
her head, looked into her mothers
face and saw that she was dead.
The two girls were alone now.
Rispah had told the truth to Beu-
lab, and Beulah understood.
"You can never break your oath
to your dead mother" she said;
"but it is very hard"
Then Rispah wrote a long, sad
letter to Henry Thorn, and Beulat
took it to him with her own hands.
81 think it will kill him, Rispah,"
she said, when she returned.
And Rispah answered:
81 know it will kill me-"
After that the girl pinned away.
She took to her bed, and all the
doctor could do was useless. Beu-
lab watched her day and night. AT
last one still moonlight night Ris-
pah said to her sister:
"Beulah, / shall not see the morn
ing light. Will you send for Henry
Thorn! Unjust bid him goodbye"
Beulah, bursting into tears, an
swered that he should come, that !,
she would bring him herself, and
calling the nurse, wrapped herself
in hood and shawl and hurried
across the path between the two !
houses. Late as it was, lights were
in the windows of the Thorn home ;
stead. Some party was afoot, she
thought bitterly. All the world
was gay save those of their name
to them came trouble at night $
fall, and in the morning they were " "
no more. \
She rang the bell; servant a a
opened the door. a
BETSY" said Beulah. "my poor 5,
sister is dying. Tell Henry Thorn Q
that he must come at once; she IA
wishes to bid him goodbye"
On, dear-oh, dear, it's sad news {
you bring, Miss" said Betsy; "but
I've sad news 10 tell you, Henry Of
Thron is dying too. He cannot q 2
live an hour, the doctor says" I
Then Beulah hurried home a
agian. She ran up stairs into her n n
sisters bedroom. She knelt be- Il
side the bed. The old nurses slept ~ u
in her great arm chair. a. a
"Rispah!" said the girl. "Ris- n
pah, darling" ],
But the great blue eyes of her fc
sister were fixed in the cold, un-
answering look of death. :
Again funeral train left the old |
Gray homestead. AS it wound r
along the road to the cemetery :,
another funeral met it. p
The hearses turned into the =,
green path which led to the gate.
"There is room for both," said n
the old gate-keeper. And they ;.
passed in side by side. q
The sunlight glittered on two i
little silver plates. On one was ?
written, "Henry Thorn, aged twen- q
ty-two. On the other, "Rispah q
G.av oscbtooc III. - | n