Dodge City times. [volume] (Dodge City, Kan.) 1876-1892, 1879-05-03

"Poor child! poor childi" muttered
the woman; and she glanced again
sharply at the portrait. Then she turn
ed to the pale wife.
"He isn't happy, now" she said;
" he isn't happy now. I've seen that
man, and l know he isn't happy now.
Maybe he will come back to you;" and
refusing to say more, the old woman
went her way.
No one could tell whether the stranger
spoke truth or falsehood. No one knew
where she had been in her wanderings.
She might have seen that guilty fugi-
tive. She might thus have learned
what she professed to know of him.
Rosalie Aston waited there where he
had left her, not hoping, only dreaming,
of a possible return.
In the autumn came an unexpected
summons:
evil Mrs. Aston come at once to
-" wrote the clergyman who had
officiated at her marriage service, from
one of the great cities of the land. "a
friend lying dangerously ill here would
be grateful for her presence"
With trembling hands she made
ready for her journey, dread and fear
halt crushing the hope that had sprung
up within her; hope that the unknown
friend was that lost one for whom her
heart was breaking, fear that she might
be mistaken, dread of being too late.
The morning train bore her away, and
an evening train left her in the city to
which she had been called, where she
was met by the clergyman who had bid
den her come. He was ge-hearted,
noble man, and whose sympathies we're
never deaf to the cries of suffering hui
mainly, and. with supreme pity and
gentleness, he unfolded the story he
wished her to hear-a story of wrong
doing that had met its Just reward
then, when she could bear it, took her
to the room where the dying friend lay.
81 found him alone, utterly alone,
and ill.," he said, in conclusion of his
ma rative; "there was no one near to
care for him, and l brought him here to
my home. He needs only you now,"
and he left her alone in the death-cham-
Der.
She bent over the pillow Of the sick
man, over the face of tine only man she
had loved, and his feeble arms, reaching
upward, clasped her trembling to his
bosom. He was true, true to her to the
last, and throb of almost overwhelm-
ing joy thrilled through the clinging
shroud of despair numbing her heart at
the thought. She took her place by the
bedside, to wait the coming of that 9TH
or viSifant whose cold bands were ereu
now stretched toward her idol. The
long night vigil was scarcely broken by
words. The sick man could not talk.
There was only murmured prayer of
forgiveness, which was answered by the
tenderest, truest assurances of love;
there were no reproaches, no unavail-
ing utterances of repentance, and the
wife's tears of anguish fell in silence.
"Darling!" he whispered, when the
darkness was giving place to dawn.
She laid her white face on the pillow
beside his.
Darling, the moment is at hand.
You will be happier when l am gone. 1
did not know till it was too late to go
back, that had left the one true love of
my life; but l was always unworthy of
you, my darling, and God is merciful to
you and me in letting me die. BY and
by, when you forget, you will be hap
pier"
And quietly, with her hand in his. his
last breath on her lips, he died.-Liz zie
L. Sha,c, in the Chicago Inter- Ocean.
st. Patrick's Cathedral, New York,
4.