The Sunday herald. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1866-1887, 1882-07-09


young lady; but them most people do"
Again Mrs. White had to disappear to pre-
pare something for the invalid. II was then
about 2 o'clock Of q bright, rather warm
October afternoon A bell was heard that
noise, one Of the very dismalist poor school
board children know. for IL summons them
back to their lessons.
Shall You care to Keep your cigar case p
asked poor Sara.
"l shall always keep it, and prize IL
dearly"
Then don tell your wife, or she might
make You put IL away some women are so
very Jealous. ! want you to use IL. II is
nice enough TO use, isn't 20
:" shall use IL always"
" am glad of that" And after a pause,
she said: Say goodbye to me now, while
We are alone, then go as soon as mother comes
back"
lie understood. He kissed her, and laid
her head upon his shoulder, and called her
many dear and tender name. "Good bye,
Sara" he said, as they heard Mrs. White
making her slow way up.
"Good-bye, " she answered, almost passion
ately. "You will never know how love
you. II Is much better for mo to go-much
better" Then once more, and for the last
Time their lips met. Weak with their strain
of love, she Tell back quiet exhausted only
able TO whisper. Gol'-nothing after that
lie did rs she wished, feeling almost sure
that he should see her no more; and he was
right That very night the sweet, pure spirit
passed away TO make its unknown journey
all alone. Poor child, young as she was, she
had known one oflife's greatest experiences
that of loving whore there was no hope of
love being returned.
When Clarkson, the next morning, saw the
blinds down In Sara's room, he was not sur
prised lie had brought with him, on the
chance that she might still be able to enjoy
them, some beautiful flowers. The door of
the house stood open, so he walked straight
in and up TO Sara's room. AS he entered he
saw that some one who was kneeling beside
the bed rise hastily; then he saw that IL
was 1lilda Ford.
They shook hands silently he won't over
TO the bed and placed the flowers on the
girls bosom. Then, leaning down, he kissed
very revcrcntly the cold lips that this time
did not thrill under his he looked long and
lovingly on her face which wore look of
uncarthly rest; then he rose and turned to
the door.
DO you know where Sara's mother is Y''
he asked.
"Seeing after her other children. They
have to be seen to. | have promised Mrs.
White that would do some errands for her
in the neighborhood.
Are you going now ~
" AT once"
"May | walk with your"
az should only be too glad if you would
do 500
"Thank you, then, will"
So together they left the house of death,
and walked out into the bright October
morning. After they had walked on little
way in silence his first question came:
"Was it you that called at the Whites
yesterday2'
Yes and even in the short time saw
her | grew quite fond of Sara. Poor child
she is at rest now. have heard great
deal about you from them. You seem TO
have been their good angel nor are they
all who you have befriended about here
Before yesterday heard of you from more
than one household I; you have been doing
good work."
"Thank you," he said, simply, hardly
able to realize that he was with the ono
woman he had ever really loved. The min
utes We're passing. Soon she was little
paler than usual, but lovelier than ever.
He would have liked there and then to have
gone down on his knees before her.
bards, bards we who prate of the ro-
nance of lovers in gardens, lovers in woods,
and where not besides, so long as it is
place whore Economically inclined persons
would like to be, why not at once own the
truth that there is often as much sentiment
connected with places of the most unromantic
kind ?"
Write, poet novelist:
"The scent of the lilies growing in high
walled garden the nightingale's passionate
strain all the charm and music of sum
mer night--will these not always bring to
his mind, il he could ever for one moment
forget it, that face of hers as she saw il in
the full moonlight, and recall the low music
of her voice p
Write, o prose teller, of facts
"Thc sound of iingling tram bells; London
ridge with great ships visible therefrom;
open stalls, with men calling out their
wares; the smell issuing from Overlooking
gin palaces--these though he is perfectly
familiar with them, will for all the time be
to Paul Clarkson associated with the woman
he loved
He was so silent that at last she said to
him:
"Why don't you talk to meH
Because Pm thinking of you SO much.
To see you again ia like great light falling on
eyes but Just opened. | am dazzled by you.
She did not answer, but walked on in n
very business like manner.
Presently she said:
Sara was very fond of you; do you think
she was fond of you ~
&c am afraid she was getting to care for
me at the end. | never meant her to, but |
suppose you won't believe that 2"
eyes, will. don't think you did nirt
with Sara, poor child"
| At length the commissions were all of
| them executed, and they returned to Upper
| Poplar Row. What strange day it was for
Paul aud IIilda Mrs. White was too much
upset TO see after anything, and as she was
n woman who guarrolcd with her neighbors
right and left, there was no one to whom she
could turn but the friends who were with
her, poor dear. She sat in her dirty kitchen
and sobbed, while llilda, with the sleeves
of her dress rolled up, displaying bor large
lovely arms, washed up accumulated cups
kept Bob in order. At length Mrs. White
grew queter, and by evening they came to
the conclusion that she might he left.
"Good bye, and bless you both," she said
" No one had ever word to say against my
Sally; well, she's out of tho bother of this
bad world. don't see what's the good OF
being in it, slave, slave day and night, and
then, some day, like an engine driven hard
the boiler bursts; but what's the good o
TALK | say, If there's any power looking
after the world it doesn't trouble itself much
about us that's in it,"
So they left her and stood out in the cold
clear night.
4" Now p said Paul.
And she answered, eyes"
"What are you going to do now p
I" The most natural thing | can do-tak,
n hanson to our apartments in Westmin
stcr and your
"lr' lie answered somewhat bitterly
an o, feel in mood Of exploring London
by night; might come in for an adventure
Perhaps you will see in tho morning papers
Murder in the East End. A"
81 think" she replied quietly, "you has
best see me home
"That of course should like to DO, hut
feared my presence would be only an oflens'
to you."
:" No, you were mistaken"