Cheyenne transporter. [volume] (Darlington, Indian Terr.) 1879-1886, 1880-10-09

her and-and--"
1t was now broad daylight. Mrs.
Wolfe. well understanding Carew's
half-spoken meaning, could therefore,
with sufficient confidence, answer,
mo" The artist added few words
of encouragement and consolation, and
fastened off.
The doctor, "a will-o' -the-wisp, fitting
from patient to patient had secured no
nurse, and had little hope Of obtaining
one. "The few women in Dalton fit
to be trusted with the care of fever
patient have their hands more than full
already. If you could go over to Ulver-
stone, though, for me, Mr.. Carew--
"To Lancaster if you like, doctor"
DR.. Edmondson scribbled a few words,
addressed them and gave Carew the
necessary directions.
The July days crept slowly past, a
succession of blazing moons and sultry
evenings, that parched and cracked the
Furness fields into ghaStly similitude
to those cheeks and lips on which rest
ed still fiercer breath than that of the
sun-the burning kiss of fever. Day
by day the furnace-like atmosphere
aided doubtful reports from the sick
room, to oppress Carew with more cruel
fears concerning Margaret. Now that
he no longer saw her, and could not in
delicacy venture further than to the
threshold of the chamber where she
hOvered between life and death, the
full extent of the impression this sim
gular girl had made upon him was
gradually revealed. He wrought fever
ishly and assiduously at his picture,
that by painting her pure, serious face,
as it appeared in health, he might dis
tract his mind from the thought of it
when flushed with the delirium Of fe-
yer.
The pear tree that, when the artist
opened his window, nodded before him
branches laden with the ripening fruit,
stretched other branches toward the
chamber window of the sick girl.
When both easements stood open for
the heavy summer air to enter, words
spoken in the one room struck on the
ear of Il listener in the other. Leaning
out toward the pear tree, Carew had
already caught on several occasions the
voice of Margaret Wolfe, weak from
illness, and too indistinct for his ear to
separate its faint accents into words.
He was leaning thus in the early
morning of the first Of August, drink
ing in deep draughts of a fresher air
than had famed his cheeks for weeks
past, and rejoicing in the cool breeze
that sang softly among the leaves of
the patch of woodland opposite. Rain
had fallen in the night-the first show
er for nearly month-and all nature
lay green, dewey and healthfu' in the
smiling August dawn. Carew, his ar
lists imagination quickened by the
beauty of the scene before him, half be-
lieved that the goddess of the morning,
sweet Aurora, was herself in presence.
''She is come to cool your parched
lips with her kisses, my poor Margar-
et."
A laugh, dissOnant and mirthless,
Jared upon the ears of the young paint
er as he murmured this fancy to himself.
1t was difficult to believe it came from
the lips he apostrophized.
'See, lnoJner, see, tile dDDoI ID ITyliiS
to take the casket from me! Oh, moth
or, what hundreds of rubies and pearls
there are in it! Wen sell them in
London, and buy the old house again,
and have as much land as we had be-
fore father began to drink. Lady Dor
othy doesn't like the plan, she says.
There's her ghost behind the others.
Oh, how pretty she is-what lovely blue
eyes, and what an innocent face for IA
woman that was SO wicked Hers is
inst the hair To twist strinnS of nearlS