The Brookhaven ledger. (Brookhaven, Miss.) 1875-1883, 1880-01-08


the sick mans room, and HE wife in
stalled herself as nurse. a change which
told for the better. Tu month he was
riding through the village, with his
wife at his side, all eyes. of course.
agog to catch glimpse of her hand
some face.
All agreed that she was just an angel,
and when they came TO church the next
Sunday, and sat down in one OF the
pews like other people, they were more
than ever confirmed in their opinion
What they never knew was this:
Three years before, Anson Grey,
naughty and indolent was killing time
at Que Of the fashionable watering
places where Edith Willoughby also
fingered, though sorely against hol
will.
A sweet and wondcrously fair face,
much admired and sought after, Anson
Grev had half a mind to enter the lists
with the others. but something kept
him back. and he only exchanged few
words with her now and then.
There happened to come heavy.
two days flood, and the first night of
1t Edith sent a servant asking Mr..
Grey to come to private parlor for
moment He obeyed the summons
with alacrity. wondering much what
could be coming now.
Edith was waiting for him cloaked
and hooded, and evidently in haste to
be off somewhere.
81 hope yo1 will pardon me, )" she
SAID, as she closed the door behind
him, "but really did not know whom
to ask aud mama will not allow ms to
go by myself. A poor woman down on
the beach is sick, perhaps dying, and l
must go to see her. Her little boy inst
came after me. I was there yesterday
and they are in great distress. Gould
/ trouble yoN to go with MP"
II will do your errand. 1t is too
stormy for you to venture out"
"Oh. it is no errand. I am sorry to
trouble anybody"
/ Mr.. Grey saw what was wanted and
saving he would be back directly, van
ishetl for his rubber suit, r
The rain drove into their faces, and
the wind howled through the dark
night like the minister of Thousand
storms-not for poor fsherwoman,
perhaps, but for one as good as fair
Edith Willoughby, he should not have
hesita.ed moment. When they came
upon the beach the waves fairly leaped
into their faces, and Edith shivered
and cung half terrified to her compan-
ion in spite OF herself.
"I believe you had better return now,
and leave it to me, he said.
"No, We are almost there. l should
never forgive myself if did. she an
swered, catching her breath as she
spoke. cit is only you am worried
about" Il am glad to be able to help
you," he said. And I think he spoke
the truth.
Inside the cottage poor Grace Poorly
lay on her hard bed trying to breathe
on a little longer, if SO the good God
might send some good friends before
she died to care for her orphan boy.
When the door opened her eyes
frightened, and size raised up little,
1.-The Lord bless ye for coming. l
know He will she said as Edith threw
off her wet covering and went toward
her.
'sThis is only one of the boarders
who came with me-" she said in reply to
the woman's questioning look. 81
should have come to day had | known
that you were worse"
She sat down beside the bed, and
Anson Grey watched her az she spoke
in low, tender voice to the grateful
woman. Among the words which he
conld distinguish was a promise to see
to Jamie; aud when the old woman
who seemed to be nurse came up tn
administer something, and in half
I 4. Il ~ l. 4, ttnp
he began to think be was in an
other world And it was another to
him truly. Surely che wonld never do
that. But she did. Kneelng upon
the bare floor, clasping hel white hands,
she sent up such PRAYER for help and
strength as Arson Grey had never
dreamed of hearing before.
After that night Anson Grey knew
where his heart was. but for his life he
dared not approach Edith. She seems
ed an immeasura5le distance from such
as he, but he cherished the memory of
her prayers as the one glimpse into
heaven for which he should thank God
all his life.
Edith's mother was q gay woman,
: and such she meant her daughter to be
l though for her life she could not keep
her from ferreting out and helping also,
ar innumberable number of forlOrn.
poverty stricken people who had no
earthly claim npon her, as they went
3 their fashionable rounds. It was NOR
tifying, even exasperating, but she was
: powerless to prevent it. They were to
: be off again soon, Anson Grey heard;
' but he would have missed seeing her
= l., Innk toll tx az i,ar o o1, "a
8 was hurrying up the beach toward their
q boarding house on the very day they
= left. He could not let her go without
= telling her what was in her heart.
r "May speak to you moment?" he
D said. abruptly stopping her.
q Certainly
As the words left her lips she saw
e what his speaking was going to be.
g "Oh, not that, Mr.. Grey?' .-
8 Somehow he took courage from the
9 quick paling OF her lips. q
"Yes. that I love you and want you
;. for my wife,
/ II am to be married. Christmas. y ,s
4 He turned and was leaving her, when
2 something made her speak. s
a "Mr. Grey"
He faced her again, and she saw how
3 white aud stern he looked. Il. -
3 "Had I been free you would not have
! asked in vain. e a s6 q
o For days and weeks afterward. Anson
z Grey hugged the memory of ber look, as
e she eaid those. blessed words. to his
heart, caring more for that than for
: the love and caresses Of any other.
Christmas came, bat death came
with il, aud Edith's lover went his long
journey, leaving his afianced bride
and her scheming mother. to console
I, themselves as best they might. HI,
g In a way mysterious to all, save
!. William Skinner, Edith heard OF Anson
: Grey's illness, and, as we have seen,
t went to him and had the courage to be
come his wife. - 4lAH ~
II The people of Burlingame learned TO
love the gentle mistress Of the old stone
) mansion Oh the hill, and never suffer
ing one called for help in vain. as long
! as "my lady as they called her. was
e mistress there. %