Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1883-05-31
and her face as she found I did not take

place beside her.
"To the balcony above, one sees bette,
there, but this is filter for lady,"
How long we were upon our route alto
gether I cannot distinctly remember. We
had bad weather at one time, cold an(
rain, snow, wind and hail.
She never complained, though she got 81
benumbed with cold that she would have
fallen but that caught her in my arms one
evening as was helping her to alight.
Caught her in my arms! Yes; and be
fore I knew it had given her sort OF com
passionate hug, exclaiming, "You poor
When we reached Bangor, in the full
brightness of the sunny morning, she die
look travel-worn, tagged and jaded.
The night before in crowded stage, she
slept great part of the night, her heac
upon my shoulder-a sleep of such pro
found exhaustion as had half-alarmed me
/ had ventured to put my arm around her
to draw her to me, in order to support he>
better. What slight, fragile-feeling form
it was!
AS 1 held her thus, and she slept thi:
dead sleep, my eyes never closed, and my
mind was very busy.
What would be the end of this journey
Should her brother be already dead
Friendless, moneyless, homeless, alone!
When we stopped once she half-roused
she looked confidingly up in my face a;
/ bent down to her.
"Iam afraid I weary you," she said. 81
can't help it, am so tired"
She was half stupefied with fatigue.
Almost before she had finished speaking
her head dropped on my shoulder again
l pressed her closer to me for an answer
that was all,
"Your wife, poor young thing, seems
quite worn-out,'' said a kindly, halfQuak'
erish-looking lady sitting opposite.
I had noticed how PLEASANTLY and com.
passionately she glanced at Mary.
1 answered simply. "She is WORKOUT
she has travelled week almost without
stopping. She has brother dying in Ban
gor."
"Poor, poor young thing! But she is
happier than many; she will meet sorrow
with one by her side who loves her with
more than the love of brother"
My conscience was reused; none of ou11
briefly told her Mary's story, and finished
by asking:
"Are you going to stay in Bangor?''
eyes, friend; and shall be glad to be OF
service to the young lady,"
1ou hiSy3 pSAho w Va o'AN 0A~S>NoS>
service"
gave her my card and she gave me hers,
penciling on it her address in Bangor.
"This is your brothers address," I asked
Mary, as we approached Bangor, reading a
card she gave me.
eyes. You are surprised; why?'
"This is such miserable quarter"
"Oh! he is very poor, and always saw
ing to be able soon to give me home," she
said. "He says shall never be happy as a
governess, nor he to know me one."
"Mary," said, taking her hand as we
drove through the streets; let me call you
so. / am a brother to you, wishing to be
to you more than any brother. But I am
not prepared to speak of that now. Are
you prepared for great shock? | knew
that brave mind well. mean if your
brother should be very ill-dying-dead"'
She shuddered.
"You have said the word; could not.
have been thinking, day after day, that
he is dead; that is why"
"Why no one met you?"
= "Yes.": .....---.
II fear poor child, you may be right.
will let me be brother to you till"
Now our cab stopped. ~
"This street is enough to have killed
him." she said. "Surely it is not here"
''It is here" said as the cabman opened
the door.
I gave the word "Wait!" and lifted her
out. Up the dark, chilly, dirty stairs-up
and up. At last we reached adoor on which
the poor fellows card was nailed. She
seemed to gather courage now. She led the
way through small, dark ante room, in
which we paused.
listened.
| heard a smothered exclamation from
her; from him cry SO shrill as to be almost
a scream.
"Mary ~
walked to the head of the stair case. and
waited there perhaps half an hour. Then
she came to me-came close up to me, and
laid her hand upon my arm. The expires.
sion of the piteous eyes lifted to mine told
me there was no hope. With a caressing
word, l drew her to me. She leant her fore
head against my arm a moment; then
"Will wants to see you; Will wants to
thank you !" she said, in scarcely audible
voice.
I followed her into the room.
The full light of a small square window
was streaming on low couch where my
poor young school-fellow lay.
1 saw directly that life with him was q
question of no more than days, perhaps OF
only hours. Yet what beautiful face II
was still! What light streamed from those
radiant eyes, as he, without rising-he was
past that-stretched both hands toward me
Mary was cronching by him; one hand
soon clutched her again, the other grasped
mine as sat down by him.
deeds, that cost nothing to the doer, most
richly rewarded What had [ done? What
sacrifice had made? And how they thank
ed and blessed me he with his difficult.
spoken, faint words; she with her blessed
eyes confirming his praises. A few words
explained the case.
He had rallied after sending the first tele'
gram, and had thought it needless that Ma
ry should come. He had not calculated on
the possibility of her starting as immediate
ly as she had done and the second message
which bid her not come had not reache1 her
A few days after-two days since now W-he
had broken blood vessel, and had been
pronounced beyond hope.
eff only had known OF this sooner"
thought, as I looked at the miserable room
and thought of my idle hundreds and thou
sands.
When by-and-by-Mary for brief while
absent-a woman, living in the rooms be-
low, who had been very kind to WILL hac
taken her away to give her some refresh
ment-I stammeringly expressed something
of my regret, he answered, ut is better a
it is for am we'll content"
els your sweet sister free ?" l asked
ssfree from any engagement-free-hea
spoke low and hastily, and felt mall my
being how much hung upon his answer.
my little Mary? Oh, yes, as far as ]
know And she has never had any secrets
from me-"
"I love her." 1 responded. eff she car
love me, will do what a man can do t(
make a woman happy as wife.