The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1883-10-06

She told him all, and asked him what
she must do. The dark light that flashed
INTO his eyes looked no good for his
prother-ln-law should he meet him in
MS present state, but he told her he
would attend to it for her; she must 90
now and lie down.
But rest was impossible; sleep was
TAR OF from the wide, dark ewes. They
were bright and ner brow and cheeks
were burning; before night she was de-
hrious with fever.
On the same day that Laurel was in
curing around for linn nj home. her
husband, In distant city, CHANGED to
PICK up newspaper; and read this no.
tice:
Died, at Claremont, near the town
OF -, Mrs. Ellswood, mother of
Walter G.. ElIswood and Mrs. Robert
Nesbit."
Good heavens! LaurePs mother
dead! And he had acted as he had
about his wife's going! He had never
thought her mothers illness was any,
thing. What would every ore think
of him! He must hasten home at once
He noticed the date of the paper. and
saw that Mrs. Ellswood had died several
days before. He hurriedly packed his
vallse, went to the telegraph office and
wired his partner that he would be at
nome as soon as he could possibly get
there.
He went straight to the depot and
bought through ticket for home. He
reached there at 2 o'clock the night
after. He knew it was useless to 90 to
his house; 1T was locked and he had the
Keys. He knew there would be no one
at the office. He could not go to Cler-
mont until the next train, which left in
two hours. He could only go to the
nearest telegraph station and send
message to let them know he was com
ing. He was just writing the message
when he heard his name called. He
looked around. One of the Young men
IN the office handed him message which
had just been received, addressed to
Darlelgh, of Nesbit, Darleigh & Co."
1t contained these words:
Wire Nesbit at once, if you can; his wife is
very low. W G. FIIswoon
81 think the message concerns Won
more than it does your partner. Mr..
Nesbit. There is no necessity to send
it out to his house, is there 90
But the operator received no reply.
Looking IN Nesbit's face. he saw that II
was deathly IN its hue. He offered him
3 chair, but the stricken man only wrote
the reply: Coming; meet me at the
station; and walked out of the office.
He went straight to the depot, where
he had to wait short while, that seemed
an eternity, before the train moved out.
On the way his thought were full of re-
morseful agony. He had acted unpar-
donably- He had been very hard and
cruel toward his young wife, and now
she was very i'll, probably dying, and he
not With her. He felt that his cruelty
IN leaving her without word had had its
snare IN bringing on her illness.
The carriage was waiting for him at
the station. The driver said in reply to
his eager inquiry:
Miss Laurel is very low"
Rapidly he was driven to the house
where he had spent so many pleasant
evenings, where he had first met Laurel
IN the bloom of her girlhood, his own
sweet Laurel; would she know him? Oh.
merciful GOD! would she be living?
AT last the house was reached, and he
spraDg from the carriage. At the steps
Walter met him.
How Is she ?" was all he could utter.
just alive, answered the brother,
colby, not taking MS proffered hand.
May | See her at once 2" asked the
now utterly crushed and remorseful
man.
"She has asked for you. OF course
can not refuse her wish. She has Just
recovered consciousness. She heard
the carriage and is expecting YOU"
Silently Robert followed the brother
OF his wife INTO the room of death. AS
they entered Laurel raised her hand and |
stretched 1t feeby toward her husband. |
A sweet smile lit up her pallid face, her
bright, suDken eyes. He bent over her |
and kissed her lips, her forehead; he |
was shaking like one in chill.
He knelt down by her and held her |
hand in both of his.
81 am very sick, Robert. / am so
glad you have come, for the doctor saws |
| must die. Oh, Robert, my husband, |
how can l leave you and my baby, our
baby, our little girl? You have not |
seen her. You will have to take my |
place as well as your own to our little |
one. Robert, she will have no mother.
Never mind, dearest, don't grieve so. |
You must keep brave heart fo~ babys |
sake. / will meet mamma sooner than / |
thought"
A spasm of pain passed over the beau
tiful features, and made her oblivious to |
all around. Robert knelt looking at her |
IN blank misery. He was powerless to
relieve her. He rose and bent over her |
in agony. He called her name wildly,
begged her to forgive him and live for |
him. He cursed himself and in the next |
breath he prayed with tremendous fer
vor that she might be spared only q |
while.
"Oh God! / can not stand it, | can not |
bear 1t, he groaned as he flung himself |
down on the bed beside her. The move |
ment reused her and she laid her hand |
on his head.
"Robert, darling you must not give |
up this way. L am weak, Robert, [ must |
kiss me, my husband, our baby take |
care of her-good by"
The young life had gone out fyom the |
beautiful form. The baby was already |
dead, but they had not told her. Both |
were buried in one grave. The grass |
is green upon 1t to-day, and Robert lives |
on with the shadow of that grave always |
falling over him. Heis changed man. |
The old imperious temper is subdued. |
If sadder, he is also gentler and mob |
Ter man.
A Wicked Joke.