Sacramento daily record-union., 1883-09-08

of your mother, my only sister, accom-
| panied with an entreaty that / would go to
her. OF course 1 went by the first train
next morning. leaving only note for Cara,
to explain my sudden departure.
I" It was the lst of August when l had
left the city, but September had come and
well nigh gone before your mothers health
was sufficiently re-established to enable me
| to leave her.
al saw your friend Cara Hastings, to-
day. said one of the family, as we gath
cred around the table for the first meal
after nv return. l am afraid the poor
girl is in bad way. She was always fra
gle, but now she is shadowy. She has a
settled cough and hectic color. She
looked very pretty, but should be sorry
to see any dear friend of mine looking
pretty in Just the same way
81 need not say that the next morning
| found me on my way to Cara's studio. 1t
was all true. 1 knew it as soon as looked
in her face. She threw herself into my
arms with a little cry of delight, which
changed into a spasm of coughing, and 1
felt the slight form pant and culver in my
arms.
"'Cara dear child, what have you been
doing to yourself, cried in dismay.
Cara smiled her own bright cheerful
smile.
al have had very hard summer she
said, but l shall soon be strong again
Now that it is all over can tell you about
it, but at one time 1 really thought that l
should never live to do go.
{" 1t was not romantic story, for there
was no love in it, and no tragedy, save as
l plainly foresaw, looking in my poor Cara's
face.
al suppose | was rather extravagant
in the spring, said Cara, for needed a
good many things. and | knew that the
! money of Maud KS lessons would keep
me all summer. Maud and her mother left
town rather suddenly in June and l did
not know where they had gone. 1 GENT my
bill to the house, however, not doubling
that it would be paid at once. I waited a
month, and in the meantime my funds ran
very low, and l found that the strictest
economy was necessary. Do what would,
however, the money melted away like wa
ter, and at last, in despair, resolved to
write to DR.. X. twas hard thing to do,
but did it, merely telling him that 1 had
sent in my bill to Mrs. Y. at such a date,
and having heard nothing from her feared
that it had not been forwarded. 1t seemed
to me that life and death hung upon the
answer, yet did not really doubt that he
would send me the money at once. His
answer came one day while you were with
me-
"' remember, said briefly.
There was no money inclosed, as l
had expected, continued Cara He merely
informed me that the bills for Maud's les
sons and schooling were always settled by
Mrs. X; that the bill had been duly for
warded to her, and that, no doubt, she
would settle it promptly upon her return
in September. And had Just sixty cents
in the world
"M My poor Cara ? cried. What did
you do?
"Do? What was there to do ? said
Cara. Fortunately, my rent was paid for
three months in advance, SO that was sure
of a shelter, at least. For the rest, l lived
for a month upon that sixty cents. OF
course I could not afford to buy fuel, SO
bread and water constituted my entire diet
Two rolls day are not very satisfactory,
but it was all could afford. Two cents
day will not set very luxurious table,
Hungry e? ] think | was not so much hun.
CRY as weak. The worst of all l could not
paint. | had not the strength to stand be.
fore the easel, and my hand shook 80 that
l could not manage the brushes, and some-
times it really seemed that my mind wan
dered. Dear, you must not feel so badly
about it. 1t is all over now
" For was crying silently at the thought
of all that she had suffered through that
horrible summer, and still more at the
thought that it was not all over, that, alas
it had Just begun.
"' On, Cara why would you not come
to me when begged you ? sobbed at last.
"' Dear, could not, said Cara. Il
should have felt like a beggar. could not
tell you OF my straits, and l could not 90
and live upon you, knowing that | was ac-
tually pauper. l should have felt ashamed
even before your servants. II you will ask
me for visit now that have money to
make me independent, will come; but at
that time I could not-I tried, but, in.
deed, I could not
"Ask her? Of course I asked her, know
ing well that it was the last thing l should
ever do for her. That months starvation
had done its work, and the weakened sys-
TEN fell an easy victim to the hereditary
foe, which might else have been bafled.
When Cara left our house at last, it was
with hands meekly folded upon her breast,
with the sightless eyes vailed by their long,
dark lashes, and the smile of the triumph
ant redeemed upon her pallid lips"
Aunt Grace's lips were quivering, and
her eyes dim with tearo as she finished her
story. Rose had dropped her work, and
sat with her eyes fixed upon her aunts
face.
&" How did DR.. X. feel when he heard Of
it p she asked, at last.
He never knew it, said Aunt Grace.
When take up the religious or secular
papers and read the burning and eloquent
words in which he pleaded the cause OF
some benevolent object, wonder what he
would ssy if he knew the true story of the
life and death of his daughters drawing
teacher, little Cara Hastings"
But he ought TO know it, " said Rose,
indignantly.
1t was hardly his fault, after ali, " said
Aunt Grace, gently. "He could never
imagine Of what consequence a sum of
money which seemed triding to him, might
be to poor girl. But that is the reason
why | always pay my bills promptly, dear
Rose.
Rose stood up, put away her work aud
her crewels, and left the room. A few min
utes afterwards she returned, cloaked and
hated for the street.
Thank you for your story, Aunt Grace"
she said, as she bustoned her glove II
am going down now to pay that bill, and
as for Mrs. Lorrimer's reception-weI, !
can wear my old bonnet or stay at home" |
New York Observer.
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