The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1883-10-04

in sight anywhere, said she, return
ing, 'san' can't hear any music, an
Miss Moore can't. an we're both sharp
enough O. hearin'. You're jist imagin-
in it, sister,"
81 never imagined anything in my
liie," returned the other, "an' it AIM
likely I'm goin' to begin now. It's the
beautifulest music. 1t comes from over
the orchard there. Can't you hear it!
But it seems to me it's CROWN a little
fainter like now. / guess it's movin'
off, perhaps"
Mary Brown set her lips hard. The
grief and anxiety she had felt lately
turned suddenly to unreasoning anger
against the cause of it; through hel
very love she fired with quick wrath al
the beloved object. Still she did moi
say much, only: II guess it must be
movin' off," with a laugh, which had
an unpleasant ring in it.
After the neighbor had gone, howev.
er, she said more, standing before hel
sister with her arms folded squarely
across her bosom. "Now, Priscilla
Brown" she exclaimed, AZ think it's
about time to put a stop to this. I've
heard about enough of it. What dc
you s'pose Miss Moore thought of you:
Next thing it'll be all over town that
you're gittin' spiritual notions. To
day it's music that nobody else car
hear, an yesterday you smelled roses,
and there amt one in blossom this time
O. year, and all the time you're talkin'
about dyin'. Fer my part, don't see
why you amt as likel y to live as am.
You're uncommon hearty on vittles.
You ate a pretty good dinner to-day fol
dyin' person."
81 didn't say was goin' to die" re-
piled Priscilla, meekly; the two sisters
seemed suddenly to have changed ma
lures. ':An' I'll try not to talk so, if il
plaques you. l told you wouldn't this
mornin', but the music kinder took me
by surprise like, an l thought maya be
you an Miss Moore could hear it. L can
iist hear it a little bit now, like the dy-
in away of a bell"
There you 60 agin!'' cried the other,
sharply. ''Do, for mercy's sake, stop,
Priscilla. There amt no music"
Swell, | won't talk any more about
it," she answered, patiently; and she
rose and began setting the table for tea,
while Mary sat down and resumed her
sewing, drawing the thread through the
cloth with quick, uneven jerks.
That night the pretty girl neighbor
was aroused from her first sleep by a
distressed voice at her bedroom win
dow, crying, Miss Moore! Miss
Moorer'
She spoke to her husband, who opened
the window. whats wanted?" he
asked, peering out into the darkness,
"Priscilla's SICK" moaned the dis
tressed voice; lawful sick. She's
tainted, an | can't bring her to. Go
for the doctor-quick! quick! quick. "
The voice ended in a shrek on the last
word, and the speaker turned and ran
back to the cottage. where. on the bed,
lay pale, gaunt woman. who had not
stirred since she left it. ImmOvable
through all her sisters agony, she lay
there, her features shaping themselves
out more and more from the shadows,
the bed-clothes that covered her limbs
taking on an awful rigidity.
"She must have died in her Sleep"
the doctor said, when he came, "with-
out struggle
When Mary Brown really understood
that her sister was dead, she left her to
the kindly ministratious of the good
women who are always ready in such
times in country place, and went and
sat by the kitchen window in the chair
which her sister had occupied that after
noon.
There the women found her when the
last offices mad been done for the dead.
"Come home with me tonight, one
said; Miss Green will stay with her, "
with turn OF her head toward the OPP
poSite room, and an emphasis on the
pronoun which distinguished it at once
from one applied to a living person.
NO" said Mary Brown: I'm
a-goin' to set here an listen" She had
the window wide open. leaning her head
out into the chilly night air.
The women looked at each other; one
tapped her head, another nodded hers.
Poor thing!' said third.
"You see,' went on Mary Brown,
still speaking with her head leaned out
of the window, Il was cross with her
this afternoon because she talked about
hearin' music. l was cross, an spoke
up sharp to her, because | loved her,
but don't think she knew. l didn't
want to think she was goin' to die, but
she was. An she heard the music. 1t
was true. An now I'm a-goin' to set
here an listen till | hear it, too, an
then I'll know she 'ain't laid up what |
said agin me, an that I'm a-goin to die,
too"
They found it impossible to reason
with her; there she sat till morning,
with a plying woman beside her, listen
ing all in vain for unearthly melody.
Next day they sent for a widowed
niece of the sisters, who came at once,
bringing her little boy with her. She
was kindly young woman, and took
up her abode in the little cottage, and
did the best she could for her poor aunt,
who, it soon became evident, would
never be quite herself again. There
she would sit at the kitchen window
and listen day after day. She took a
great fancy to her niece's little boy, and
used often to hold him in her lap as she
sat there. Once in a while she would
ask him if he heard any music. An
innocent little thing like him might hear
quicker than a hard unbelievin' old
woman like me-" she told his mother
once.