Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1883-04-28
Il, too, loved the child, and was devoured
with a secret fear that I should never see

!, TOO, lOveO L0e Cul1u, 0HO4 was ucVouAeu
with a secret fear that I should never see
her again.
It was a long way there! l walked and
walked, and at last I stood at the mum.
Der. And then l felt sure of what ]
had begun to suspect as soon as l saw
to what part of the city my footstep.
tended-the nan had given me his own
address, not that of his little charge;
this humble cottage, was, no doubt, his
own home.
Yes; even while I stood at the gate de.
batting as to the necessity of my going in
at all, he brushed hastily by me and en-:
tered. He had a bottle in his hand, and
did not notice me, and as he left the door
open l followed him in my great anxiety
to know of the sick child's welfare.
Good heavens! I had stepped into a
room in the center of which was a bed
draped in white, and beside which two
p~oorly-clad women were seated crying
bitterly, while laid back among the white
lace-edged pillows, breathing slowly and
with great difficulty, her little arms
thrown above her golden head in a par
oxysm of pain, lay the little Queen, our
unknown baDy.
The man tried to give her of the med
icine he had brought, but she was past
mortal help, and as l saw in the still
clear eyes the unmistakable shadow
which was 80 familiar to me, l held up
my hand to warn him that it wa too
late.
He motioned to me respectfully to come
forward to the bed; l did so, and he
stepped back and let me take his place.
The little one looked at me anda radiant
smile lit all her sweet and pain.drawn
features, still the loveliest 1 had ever
seen, but the smile was not for me. No.
She held out her little arms and looked
directly past me, to the shabby man, and
with one sobbing'cry in which her spirit
passed beyond, she murmured, papa"
1t had all been my mistake, except
that she had been a little Queen, and his
was a service-the true service of love!
The little one had not even q mother
living; the two women who cried over
her as if their hearts would break were
neither kith nor kin, and the man wa a
night-watchman in a bank, and spent all
his earnings on the child, and was good,
and gentle and patient for love of her;
and her mother had been a slight, pale
working girl, who had been married but
a few short years when she laid the little
one in his ARM with the brief injunction:
"Be good to her, Tim," and YEARLY
died.
Oh, there is no service like that of love.
The little carriage is put away, the man
goes about his work, Is better dressed ha.
a color in his thin face and walks straight
er, but for all that I know how sad 6
heart he carries, and there is a little grave
at Elmwood that tells the story. People
stop to look at it-toys, flowers, her pic
ture-they are all there, and on Sunday
a motionless figure kneels there, and il
jealous if a stranger glances that way
for is she not his even in death?
"Could you have seen those violets
Hide in their graves of snow,
Drawn all THEN gold along your haH
While she lay smiling SO,
You would tread this weary earth
As heavily as L;
Content to deck your little Queen
And let the world go by"
Mrs. N. L. Payne, in Detroit Ere
Press.