The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1880-08-21

Wi!l De nothing 70 MIN; 90 not trou-
aS Tke bitterness Ct her reply proved how
keenly she felt his cruel desertion,- how
surely alienated was her heart from Inn,
who by his selfishness had forfeited all
(right:to respect and love. ,asN+.
"Very well. Perhaps tits better to wait
for Floy to improve" kindly interpreting
the reply in gcntler form. Both knew
full we'll what the reply meant-G George
must N lp take his own time to return, un-
Less q if
i"Dr. Irving, Floy must not dle!" read.
Ing in bis sorrowing eyes what his lips re-
Trained from speaking. 's-e.-,..,.-.,
He passed his hand lightly over her dark
hair. ,,,r, .,.,,,,,.,'.. 49,.
"Come, Florence" raising the slender
form tenderly, Ego and rest awhllc-for
Eloy'sr sake, y as she feebly resisted.
Aunt Cleo led her from the room, he
watching her pityinglN his greats loving
heart shining forth in his moistelicd eyes.
When the door closed, he turned again to
the fevcr-stricl1en child.
Terrible indeed was the clutch of the
fevcr's burning fingers, so strong the grasp
on the baby life that the physician felt his
skill was powerlcss to save her; death
would soon free the little sufferer.
Aunt Cleo stole quietly into the room.
els she any better2'' she whispered,
leaning over the little one - 'F h,
She strokcd the clustering curls caress-
ingly, starting back with cry of dismay
and terror as che marked the fearful ravages
of the tever.
81 cannot save her, Cleo" And DR..
1rving's eyes grew dim.
''No, no; she can't be saved. | knowcd
it; but oh, my baby! My poor Miss Fl6rie,
You can't save her, for the Lord hab
marked dc best and, loveliest in dc land.
De mudders are wcepIn' for dey chil'rcn,
but dcy can't go nohow; only dem we want
ter stay. Oh, my poor Miss Florie!"
The old woman swaycd to and ffro,
wringlpg ller hands in deep distress.
They did not hear the door open, did
not see tho white face. Every word of
Aunt Cleo's bitter cry Florence Mansc had
overheard. r.t.,e ~. .,..N
''All alone, alone!" the white lips whis-
pered. Then, ''all gone. The last one on
earth wEo loves mel Oh, doctor, shall
be all alone!" flinging out her white hands
with despairing gesture. Ia
He caught them to his breast with ssNo,
poor dove, never alone!" Then he drew
back. She was George Mansc's wifcl DR..
rving's face became strangely white and
haggard. Florence was his friends
wife!
In the clear, true eyes shonc look of
entire renunciation. Gently he released
her hands, and with broken "God help
you, Florence" without one backward
glance, he turned and left the room.
That night Floy died. DR.. Irving stood
by Florence's side ut the dying bed, sup
ported the frail form as they knelt by the
grave; then brought her back to the desc
late Hall-and, though the noble heart
achcd fer it's darling he, knowing that it
was best, said, calmly:
'Good-bye, Florence. -. ... .
Egbert Irving never came to the Hall.
Often, in the dreary days that followed,
Florence met DR.. Irving In fever stricken
homes, at dying bedsides. Kind and grave
had he ever been to her, kind and grave
would he remain; only he and she would
ever know of his love and her sorrow.
Late In the fall George came home. His
heart smote him when he saw the pale,
thin face Of. his wife, the lines of suffering
under the sad eyes.
S'"We will 60 away, Floy. Indeed, you
ni""9 iie''o " oiohSct shAa OcolSe, = ohc
day, watching the hands toying lisLlessly
with piece Of fancy work.
She smiled family, It. seemed strange
that Of late he should begin to manifest
consideration for her whom he had neg
lected. The lever of great sorrow or
trouble Is often requisite to move such
men from their lethargic seltishness.
eyes, we will go-some time-when
can be spared"
Thus it happened that Florence went
about making farewell visits. One bright
autumn day she made her last visit. Poor
Floyl The faint smiles were chased from
the pale lips forever, and that day the
bruised heart broke. ~
The cruel fever snatcbcd one more vic
tim, breathcd on him with it's deadly
breath, and then exultingly hurried on its
dcRolating way. In that hour, when death
called DR.. Irving, hc asked for Florence,
and she came.
1t was better thus. Neither murmured;
they rather rejoiced that the end had come
80 soon. .l.y.....
'Be brave and true, Florence; true 10
your husband" ho whispered with dying
breath. :
She kissed his, lips, his brow, his hands;
bit her grief was too deep for words, too
bitter for tears. .Mutcly, tearlcssly she
folded his hands, and with a last lingering
look on the dear face, wont to knccl alone
and battle with her great sorrow.
George found her kneeling by the win
dow. When 1t was oil over, he led her
away; even then she could not weep, did
not look back upon the face grown 80
strangely dark and disflgured., In her own
room the dull apathy gave way.
F& u am ready to 80 away. Oh, George,
take me awayl" she bitterly cried
Then: there came to George Manse the
bitter knowledge that Florence had loved
the dead-ay, better, than she loved Il the
living-her husband. But in his heart
there was no anger towards the dead, and
with HIS knowledge came an awakening
love for bis heart.broken wife.
The following day-a golden day, when
earth and sky were bright with the glory
that autumn brings--they, laid DR.. irving
ih bis grave. Florence looked paler and
more fragile than The lilies she carried to
place upon the grave. George felt that
she was only lingering little while, for
the shadowlof death was already in the