The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1883-11-03

seemed like some thin veil that hung be-
tween her and familiar places-a veil be-
hind which the sun had set as usual, and
would rise again tomorrow. She was very
hungry. but she left the biscuits for little
Phillip. She was very tired, but too
cold to sleep. She could not even think
at last, but lay down in the bottom of
the boat, half delirious, saying over to
herself, softly, aloud:
THE children are calling me-but it is
too early yet-too early-and so very
coldr
She never knew when the day broke,
for the fog still enveloped them; but the
mysterious veil grew lighter, and little
Phillip woke. Jenny dragged herself
into sitting posture, and gave him the
two biscuits, turning her eyes away, so
that he might not see their hungry long
ing. He was as warm and happy as pos
sible after his long nights rest, but
Jenny was too cramped and wearied to
move much. Her very lips refused to
open when she first tried, and when
wores came they fell feebly from her.
But by and by, when the child grew
!retful, she had strength to gather him
up into her weary arms, and whisper
softly to him until he grew content again.
Sing, Jenny" he cried, imperiously.
| She turned her eyes vacantly upon him
and tried to speak, but she was SILVER
| ing in the bitter wind, and numb, and no
words came. Then she tried to smile,
but it seemed as if she had forgotten
how Slowly, one by one, the tears rolled
down her cheeks, because, for the first
time, this child ha0 wanted her, and she
was too weak to answer. Phillip thought
she was asleep-so fast asleep that he
could not awaken her. And then, in
moment, the mist rolled away, and the
sunlight flickered upon the water just as
it had done the day before. And they
were quite close to land-so close that
John Smith, who was rowing along the
| shore, searching for the Swallow, came
out to them with few quick strokes of
MS OARS. Meil ndu UeeI SedfcHiHS iol
the missing ones all night, aud John
| Smiths lusty shouts brought them to-
gether very swiftly, but they ceased
shouting when they stood with little
| Phillip, looking at that still form that
the Swallow had brought home. Sir
| Phillip, pale and anxious, came down to
| the shore, and it was he who took Jenny
| out and laid her on the sand; covering
her with his coat, and forcing brandy
between her lips.
"Thc lasie's deid," the neighbors said
solemnly to one another.
But Sir Phillip knew better.
She is not dead" he said. 81 will
carry her to the house myself-but she is
overcome bp the cold"
He knew the whole story instinctively
when he looked from his little sons
| flushed face to the still fair whitenesS of
Jenny's sharpened features. For the
moment he was almost tempted to think
with these rough fishermen, that the un-
spoken question of Jenny's sad eyes had
| been answered at last. But she awoke
at last-delirious.
| For seven days she lowered between
life and death; but even in delrium her
| love for little children was strangely WIS.,
ible. Hour after hour Lady Wynne sat
patiently beside the bed on which the
long straight form left so slight an I'M
preston. Sometimes she held the rest
less brown hands; and sang nursery
rhymes softly. But Jenny never knew
her. She would push her hands away,
and murmur softly to herself about the
waters, and the boat, and the rocks, and
the terrible biting wind. But at last the
delirium wore itself out, and the great
sad eyes looked quietly out from beneath
the short tangled locks. Jenny was
hardly sensible even now, but she was
violent no longer.
"The Swallow will get home soon,"
she said. q am cold and tired-tired."
Presently the baby cried in the inner
room, and the sound reused her. So
they hushed him to sleep and Lady
Wynne brought him in herself and laid
his little round head close to Jenny's
shoulder. She wrapped her arms tend
erly about him and laid her cheek to his
and then, there was silence in the room
for long time.
''She is sleeping" Lady Wynne said
to the doctor. But the doctor shook his
head.
at is mere exhaustion, not sleep" he
said. at is possible we may never rouse
her again."
So Lady Wynne sat down beside the
bed once more and took the baby on her
knee. And she watched, with tears in
her eyes, the little life that had been
sacrificed to Phillip slowly Pickering out.
BY and by the children came in from
their walk and battered by the door on
tiptoe on their way to the day nursery.
Jenny opened her eyes feebly and her
face flushed.
"Let me go"' she cried, stretching out
both her arms. The children want
me-
She threw the coverings aside and
tried to rise, but Lady Wynne held her
gently back. She struggled feebly for a
minute and then lay still-so still that
her quick, uneven breathing seemed to
fill the room. Then once again her eyes
opened-sad no longer, but unutterablv
happy.
"Don t let the children forget me, "she
said.
The desire was fulfilled at last. The
other life had opened out before her.
She had gone where the children want
cdther."
They built light house out among
the rocks and wrote Jenny's name upon
the corner stone - not because they
feared they would forget her, but because
her undying memory was as light to
Phillip Wynne, far above the storms and
tcmpcsts of this work a-day world.
A Very Effective Hint.
"Don't you think earrings would be-
come you?' inquired kosiusko Murphy
of Birdie Mcgee. Kosiusko had been
paying Birdie very asiduous attention of
late.