Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1881-12-25
THE LAW OF LOVE.
IAnnie j. Duffell.l

It was only woman-a dying woman
and after the first shock the crowd
surges on. But II cannot take my
gaze from the pallid face, as she lies up
On the platform, whittier they have
dragged her. crushed and mangled, from
the car-wheels. But when somebody
throws sheet over her turn to my
friends, who have just alighted from the
London express. There is swift din
of aristocratic voices as we go toward the
two carriages in waiting, then sudden
pause, as our guests perceive that long
form PROSTATE upon the platform.
els it not horrible?" cries Lady
Agathe, in her sweet, high treble. ga
drunken woman-she got run over. And
will you believe it'll came within an
inch of the same fate myself. dropped
nv pocketbook in crossing the track
from the carriage. In STOPPING to pick
it up was seized with sudden deadly
faintness, and almost lost consciousness.
The rest of the party had moved on
without noticing me. People shouted
at me, but I could not move. Suddenly
something fell against me with such
force that it pushed me off the track. It
must have been this poor creature. You
see, the train was right upon us, and,
being intoxicated, she could not save
herself. and so got under the wheels"
eft was fortunate for you, Agathe,
that the poor wretch should have stum-
bled upon you; it saved your ife!' says
Fame Swinton-her husbands friend.
There is queer, pale look about his
face, unnatural to it. But Lady Agathe's
lovely countenance bears no trace of any
emotion at her narrow escape from
death.
That was an hour ago. ! stand now
beside cot in hospital, whittier I have
followed the victim Of that accident-it
being impossible for me to subdue the
intense interest her appearance inspired
in me. The ward is very silent-it being
only used for cases of the worst order,
and happily, of these there are few-this
Christmas Eve. [ sit and look at the
dying woman. She is scarcely more
than girl; and though her limbs are
terribly mangled, her face is utterly IN
touched. It is little, brown, winsome
face. though pitifully hollow about the
ewes and cheeks, and with a downward
dropping of pathos and pain around the
corners of the lips, that sends an ache to
nv throat as I look-a face that seems
to speak of the burn and the byre, the
meadow and the hills, of a distant and
forsaken home-of old safe ways from
which she has strayed pitiful dis
tance-of nook and a chair and hearts
that are vacant around desolate hearth!
Somehow the tears rise to my eyes as I
watch that face, doubtless once so bonny
and SC brown; think it must be the
worn, piteous look of it that causes them,
and that persistent association with run
ming waters, in which cattle stand hook
deep, of the girl lying upon the bank
amid the cowslips and wild thyme, and
of the innet-song that pours from her
lips as the kline come home. And now
she lies before me q mass of mangled
flesh, with a brand upon her forehead
and her poor httle soul, that has strayed
sorry way from the right. Suddenly,
as I look, the closed eyes fash wide;
they are brown-that same pretty, soft
brown hue of the chestnuts she used to
gather. when the early frosts had stained
the birchen and the hickory woods,
where the gray squirrels gamboled, and
the sound of dropping nuts cleft the air.
I bend over the little vacant, worn face,
far over, till I catch the great wistful
light of the death-scourged eyes.
''Do you want anything?" I ask.
eyes, him!'
"Who, dear?"
"Oh, you don't know. I forget"
turning YEARLY upon the pillow. Then
abruptly ''Twenty years ago tonight I
was Christmas Eve They called
me Madelon. And two years ago to-
night my own baby was born-little
jeanette, after the dear one at home
and tonight am dying, but I do not
regret it; to the end I have given him
my life. Tonight I saved the woman
of his love-"
1 start quickly; somehow that white,
haggard look on Fame Swinton's counte-
nance returns to me at this moment.
'sDid you know Lord Swinton?" ]
query.
Eyes, I knew him." she replies, with
a little pallid smile that has a pathos
never held in tears-'I knew him! ]
LIEU ullu Ou tIc ILLS AOuOs L WCut
away with him when he went, for !
loved him too well to let him go alone.
have never seen the dear ones since. ]
came to London. was happy. won
der if Heaven has such happiness as was
mine, then? He promised to marry me,
and he would have done so, but he saw
Lady Agathe, and he loved her with a
love that he never gave me. He tried
hard to keep from it at first; he knew
his danger. ooh, MadelonY he would
say, keep me with you-dear little true
heart, stay by me! will not yield to
her-I will mott And he would stagger
into my room some night, as though
drunk with wine. It was her. She did
it-she won him because he was proud
and beautiful. They say they do those
things in the world to which she belongs;
they call it friendship! 1t brings no
disgrace. Lady Agathe is very dear to
her husband and children. Yet when I
begged of her to take me for her servant,
hoping that by that I would see him, ]
was driven from her presence. They
told me that had no honor, no charac-
ter! Can you understand these things,
Lady,"
The beautiful, nut-brown eyes look
yearningly into mine-the dry, parched
lips CULVER.
seN Ut say while a GREAT shame for