The Carbon advocate. [volume] (Lehighton, Pa.) 1872-1924, 1881-08-27

TIL one evening her husband came 10 ner
with a troubled look and told her that
his only relative, an uncle in England,
was very sick ard had sent for him to
come Immediately, and, taking his young
wife in his arms he soothed her with fond
words, saying:
81 dare not take you with me, darling
Uncle George was very angry when my
mother married an American with such
n plebian name. OF all low names,
Smith he claims stands at the very bot
tom. Uncle George never forgave my
mother; but when both my parents died,
leaving me alone, he appointed guard
ian for me kept we'll supplied with funds,
and now that he is dying must go to
him; but 1 will return as soon as possible
to my little wife"
And so he left her, with plenty of
money but with an aching heart, and she
had never seen him since.
Troubles had seemed to multiply after
that. A contagious disease broke out in
their town, and carried off whole fami-
lies. Her aunt fell victim, but she es
capped and came to the city, hoping to
find employment by which to support
herself. She had small sum Of money
left, with which she purchased little
cottage, and here Nellie was born.
The roses bloomed once more on Mel
lies cheeks, and her step grew light as
the weeks advanced. She liked her en-
ployment, and, above all, she liked her
employer. Many substantial evidences
of his kindness had found their way to
the little cottage, and many an extra dol
lar had found its way to Nellie's pocket.
As his face grew thinner and his step
| slower, he seemed to turn to the young
girl for sympathy, and the sound of her
sweet voice, and the touch of her cool
hand, had power to sooth him to rest
when all else had failed. He often
watched her as she moved about the
room, in her bright, cheerful way, with a
strange wistful look in his fading eyes.
One morning, rs she took her seat by
his couch, he laid his thin, transparent
hand on her own, saying as he did so.
81 feel that have but few more hours
of life and wish to talk to you, and he
smiled almost sadly as he met her startled
glance.
"Yes, he continued slowly, II shall
soon be gone, and there will be no one
to truly mourn for me, unless it be the
little girl 1 have taken such an unac-
countable interest in. You will miss me,
Nellie !"
For answer she bowed her head over
her clasped hands and wept.
He waited few moments, then taking
one little palm in his hands and caress-
ing it tenderly. said
mo doubt you have often woraered
that l, perfect stranger, should have
given you employment without question
or reference. I can hardly tell why
did so, myself. Perhaps it was look on
that pitiful young face so like dear face
l used to love. 1 have carried the mem
ory of that face all through life. had
only been married a few weeks when /
was summoned to England, and when
returned l found the house where 1 had
left my dea' one deserted. and was told
that she was dead.
"My uncle, at his death, left me his
property, providing that would take his
name, but oh it has been long, sad
life without my darling.
81 have taken a strange interest in you,
and my heart seems to cling to you iu
my last hours. have taken care of
your future, dear. and there is neither
wife nor child, brother or sister to aues-
tion the right of the will have made in
yonr behalf. Somehow, since l have
carried out my intentions respecting you
l feel so peaceful; as though there is
nothing left undone, and am ready to
CO."
lie was interrupted by fit of cough
ing which lasted so long that Nellie was
frightened. After she had laid him back
ON his pillow she saw his lips move, but
the words were so low that she had to
bend over him TO hear them.
when 1 am gone, Nellie, open this
little ebony casket. Inside you will find
my wife's picture. You may look at it,
but I want it buried with me-"
He lay back on his pillow and closed
his eyes wearily. A strange calm stole
o'er his features and an icy chill crept
into the hands clasping hers-a chill that
sent thrill of terror to her heart. She
bent over him and spoke bis name, oh
so tenderly-but he heard not the young
voice. He had passed forever beyond
its reach.
The next day, as he lay in his coffin,
Nellie opened the little casket and took
out the picture he had treasured. Going
to the window, she opened the case,
looked upon the sweet, girlish face smil-
ing up at her. One moment, then
quick, gasping cry escaped her lips, and
she fell into the arms of an attendant.
The face of her dead friends lost wife
was the face of her mother.