The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1879-02-28

the rough mass, while she shades her
eyes with her dainty parasol, criticising
the skill of the stone-cutters. Mahlon
is struck by the contrast she makes
this dot of bright color-to the somber
gray building.
OF both ne is to be master In the
hospital he will carry the hope or des-
pair to many poor soul, the verdict OF
life or death. But this little woman at
his side, will he fail to influence?
Delphine is radiant. Though the
scaffolding partly hides the cornices
over the windows, enough is seen to de-
light her, and she is full of fresh de-
signs.
Mahlon suddenly leaves her side.
Il do not like that scaffolding 1t is
horrible! How careless men are Of their
lives!"
"You do not want the first man killed
outside of your hospital" laughs Del
phine.
She sees the disapproval in his face,
which one of her fippant speeches al
ways brings. But she has not time to
notice it.
"Surely, Mahlon, you are not going
up that LADDER"
"Not the slightest danger" he calls
back. "The scaiiolding is built to bear
five men besides the cornices, SO it will
bear me. / am not one to run foolish
risks"
Delphine breathes more freely when
he stands on the scaffolding. The lad
der was to her the real danger.
"Oh, how high you are above me !" she
calls out, half sorrowfully, half laugh
ingly. "Shall / ever reach your"
And she holds up her hands in sup
plication.
He looks down on the smiling, up
turned face, the pretty gesture of hui
mility then turns to inspect the scat
folding. And there low, cracking
sound-he is falling. Falling SO slowly,
he thinks, while he computes the num-
Der of feet below-recalls the close
strewn blocks of granite - remembers
Delphine's laughing face, upturned.
BY one of those escapes giving one
faith in guardian angels, Mahlon falls
not on the granite, but on mother earth.
She takes all power from him, even that
sees Delphine bending over him -
Delphine, earnest and quiet enough
now. Did that same white face. with
the awe in it, bend over old Mr.. Eliot's
death-bed? Even that thought comes
dreamily and painlessly. Then some
one lifts him into Inconsistencies black
as the grave.
Mahlon's impression is that he has
merely closed his eyes and opened them
yet he is now indeed in strange room,
though his last recollection is of the
hard ground, and the blue sky above.
But here is Delphine bending over
him the same white, earnest face. Yet
she wears no colors Frightening in the
sunshine. But soft, gray dress, on
which his eyes like to rest.
He lies bordering awhile, then asks,
Where am -"
At my house." There is something
beseeching in her eyes. 81 could not
nurse you so well elsewhere"
Il have been i'll how long?"
"Ten days"
And you have nursed me. 1t was
a wonderful escape. Had the scaffold-
ing fallen with the workmen, some must
have been killed But I shall get
well now; you need not be much longer
confined"
as this her reward?" Her face may
ask the question; for he stretches out
his hand feebly enough; and Delphine,
laying hers in the open palm, bends her
head on it to hide her tears.
Mahlon's recovery is slow, and he is
ordered away for change. But it is not
of the anticipated benefit he thinks; it
is more of his return to Delphine and
of the wedding-day following it, than of
growing strong. Her face haunts him !;
that pale face, its beauty dimmed by
anxiety, yet which has gained hun
dred-fold in his eyes. 1t is this face he
returns to; not that of the girl old Mr..
Eliot married, nor of the woman who
bought Mahlon's first visit with few
bottles of wine. They are as unlike as
his feelings the night he stood on the
hearth-rug watching Delphine weeping,
and the feverish impotence with which
he stands in the same place now, wait
ing for her coming Will she never
come? Then there is an ominous rus
tie of silk, futter of ribbons, and Del
phine, the gay, saucy, brilliant Delphine
of old, is before him. All, well, if the
leopard cannot change his spots, neither
can woman her nature!
Delphine and Mahlon drift apart after
their marriage; for Mahlon had learned
to love the woman who nursed him, and
he is jealous of the old Delphine who
robs him of her, and whom he has given
up in despair of improving.
II wonder if he makes much money,
and what he does with it? Spends it
on his belovedybpspital, perhaps. If he
would buy me . ribbon-a ribbon?
That he would. not do--a bit of sack
cloth / would wear for his sake. 1
would be i'll just to see if we're rs
worth his trouble as his pauper pa
TENTS"
Poor little Delphine laughs, but she
could cry much more easily, sitting
there alone over the bright fire in her
morning-room, her novel dropping idly
from her hand. She puts it away rather
hastily, as the door opens.
as it you, Mahlon? L. il so late?"
at ia eor1v I wish IN see Won nar.