The Emporia news. [volume] (Emporia, Kan.) 1859-1881, 1879-11-14

Sharp and strong sentences fell upon his
ear, that excited his professional curios
ity. When he heard from Miss TurpIn
of the enthusiasm and zeal of the young
student, as much as she dared tell him
OF his defeated aspirations and hopes,
the good doctors eyes kindled with
sympathy.
Let him only get we'll" he said, land
we viii sweep all these lions out of his
PATH
Miss Turpin smiled through her tears
He will get well, thanks to you," she
said.
And to you" lie added, looking
around the room with appreciation. II
had been suddenly metamOrphosed into
the model of chamber for the sick.
The open fire, with its cheerful blaze and
ventilating draught; the subdued light;
the white and warm drapery of the bed
her own little couch near by; pretty,
shadowy pictures upon the walls, tinted
by her own hands-an eloquent silence
reignlng over all.
1t is lucky for yonder lad" thought
the doctor, that in all this big, wretched
harrack the one little snuggery Is his
own
And so the days went by, each one
freighted with hope and fear. There
came one at last upon which rested the
life or death of the young student.
Sometime this evening" said the doc
tor TO Miss Turpin, The will awake to
consciousness; be sure that you do not
leave his bedside. | would not for the
world, at that critical moment, thai
strange face should meet his own
Miss Turpin turned pale, and stretched
out her hands with gesture of entreaty
Then she slipped from her chair to her
knees, and from thence to the floor. Now
had come the supreme moment of tor
ture. Now her labor, her joy, her life,
was done.
A strange face! What face could be
stranger than her own?
Tut, child" said the doctor, 81
thought you had more courage. There
is every hope for him. Can't you bear
joy as you have sorrow? l only want
that he shall see first the face of his wife,
| the dearest to HIM in the world"
He put down his hands to her, but
still she hid her face from his. Her
whole frame trembled. She wished at
that moment, SO happy seemed her fate,
| that she could die there and then
"Oh Doctor said she, lifting her ewes
to his, 'hOw can l tell you? how can l
make you know? / am not his wife"
The doctor drew back coldly, but as
her frank, earnest eyes met his own. he
could not resist the innocent pleading
there. She might be a poor Magdalen
| even, but he had never seen so childlike
| and yet so womanly creature.
We must think OF nothing now but
our patient lie said gently; "your face
is at least familiar and dear to him"
''Alas! no." she said; ''it is strange,
almost unknown. 1t is far better 1
should go away
Then she told the doctor all And as
she went on to confess how she had dared
shelter this poor neighbor of hers, with
out roof to cover him, without money,
without friends, sick unto death, helpless
and alone-how she had dared at any
risk to shelter him and to nurse him
back to life-the good surgeons eyes
blinked under his shaggy brows. He
put his heavy hand in benedlction upon
her bowed head.
Thou good little Samaritan" he
said.
And two big, hollow, handsome eyes
upon the white bed in the corner also
filled with tears. He was so weak, this
poor young Blake, that he could scarcely
help sobbing outright at so touching a
story.
"Why-why," he faltered to himself,
lin little Miss Turpin's room, o, thou
mercifnl heaven! In little Miss Turpin's
bedi With the CHEEKY little fire in the
CRATE to foil wonder biting blast, with all
the little knick-knacks and furbelOws
| about-the pictures on the wall, her bird
cage at the window, and n neat little
medicine stand, with lots of spoons in
various doses, each spoon with little
Miss Turpin's name; and to her, then,
under heaven, / owe my life! All, my
God do so to me, and more also, if
desert little Miss Turpin, or let little
Miss Turpin desert me-"
"And now,' said the sweet, sad voice
of Miss Turpin, take me to his bedside.
am foolishly weak / can scarcely see.
Let me look upon him Just once more be-
fore l go. You will take care of him
now, doctor, won't you? But let me say
good-by."
The doctor, undoubtedly, scarcely
knowing what TO say, half carried her to
the bed
"Good-bye, goodbye" she said, bend
ing over him, her warm tears falling on
his pale, sunken face, her hot
trembling hands clasping themselves to-
gether
But suddenly two other hot, trembling
hands seize hers in feeble grasp-the
hollow, sunken eyes of the student fasten
| themselves upon MISS 1uTpln lace
with very hungry tenderness.
"Oh, no." he said, you cannot GO
from here, not for the world you see the
good doctor has said it will not do to
have strange face at my bedside
Yours is the dearest to me IN the world
1 love you, Miss Turpin. 1t is, perhaps
a sad fate | offer you; but, oh! be still
more generous-be my wife. l have,
dear little Miss Turpin-oh! l have
loved you longr'
He didn't say how long; he was too
weak TO talk He didn't tell her that
perhaps his love dated only little half
hour back, when he listened to that
wonGrously touching little story of hers.
What mattered it? Cannot love be as
strong as life and deep as the sea, howso-
ever and whenever 1t is born?
Good DIR. Havershaw took care of their
future. 1t began in a neat, two-story
brick house, with big brass sign upon
the door, to which the worthy surgeon
drew attention enough to set the pot TO
boiling.
And now in her stylish brougham,
with liveried lackey at her command,
with rustling silks and dainty laces,
| with her widest fancies more than real
lied, who could find fault with the fate
of little Miss TurDin