The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1883-09-20

brought into it. The other people made
! disagreeable noises, and were not al
together agreeable to feeble nerves.
Ny men nurses tramped heavily and
tangled glasses, and the doctor was,
although the most respectable of his
species, what l should call loud man.
Helen made no noise; she was the very
essence of stiffness. except when she
sang or talked, and that was music
which is not noise. Discord is what
hurts us. Helen was all concord
Noise is discord. 1t seems to me that
this state of things had gone on for
weeks, and that began to know Helen
as a man ought to know woman
whom he shall love and marry. l be-
gan to watch for fitting opportunity to
tell her that 1 loved her, that she was
the being of all others to make me
happy. | owed it to Helen to tell her
so, and felt that we must make some
excuse to our friends for being so much
together, that even the doctor might
think it strange, that, perhaps, Arthur
-yes-Arthur. Where 1cas arthur?
But when was ready to frame these
sentences, Helen always evaded me;
sometimes a tinkling of that ridiculous
bell-and the men nurses came in
sometimes the doctor himself, never
Arthur.
The parlor began to look unlike the
parlOr. The piano was covered over
with white cloth, and bottles stood
upon it. Nothing seemed changed on
the walls but the clCth which had hid
den the Cenci.
That had fallen, and suddenly the fig
ure seemed to bend out of the frame,
and to nod to me.
"Helen.n l shrieked Helen! Hide
the Cenci from me-"
Her cool hand was over my eyes in a
moment, and the vision passed away.
Poor. troubled BRAIN" heard her
say, as she rubbed my forehead with
her soft hand until went to sleep.
1t would be absurd to try to follow
this love affair. Suffice to say we got
to understand each other, and Helen
promised to marry me. We had of
course to wait until | should recover my
health, which was rs yet uncertain.
could not disguise it to myself that. al
though L had hours of health, that the
bottles, the doctor. the bed, and the two
men MUSES. remained.
Helen always said patience, dearest,
patience, ali will be well. / will wait
for you. You have a long summer be-
fore you, in which you must recover
Meantime let us 90 on with the read
ING. the music, the painting" Helen
was sweet and consistent, and | obeyed
her.
And then we constructed our whole
future life. She was to be my econom-
ical help-mate; with her little savings
and mine we could afford q modest
home.
We would begin plainly and live
cheaply. She would still ply her brush
and l would DIG away down in Wall
street, but we should be together. We
had our love as a splendid capital.
That was invested for us, and with that
we could not be poor.
These We're days and nights full of
happiness. Helen seemed to need no
sleep. She was often by my side at
that dread hour of three in the morning,
wiping the dews from my brow and
helping to account for the strange
that the periodic dropping of the crow
bar was some midnight assassin of
sleep repairing the elevated railroad.
The little tinkling bell, we thought,
might be some cat entangled in a net
work of resounding metal, the descend
ant of Ben the Cat, whoever he might
be. Helen was the only person who
had attended me through my illness,
who ever tried to explain, and to help
me out of nv intellectual mazes. The
others ignored them.
1t was the power of love, that one
blessed inspiration, which never tires,
never grows antagOnistic. never sneers
and never treats as trivial the slightest
wish or theory of the beloved object.
Helen was always fresh. Size seemed
to have just stepped from her firing
women, like Helen of Troy. 1 never
saw in her the disorder of early morn
ing or night; the fatigue and heat of
the sick room never reached her. The
freshest cOlOrS. tne freshest flowers, the
sweet, careful arrangement of her hair,
the perfume of neatness-all this and
mOre-foliOwed my beloved and made
her priceless. And then began to call
her my wife. To be sure, it was pre-
mature. But she forgave it. Perhaps
the sweetest word known to the ear of
man or woman carried with it its own
apology. She should be my wife.
And prepOsterous as it was, she for
gave me.
. She was not by my side when l need
ed her most, when the two men were
rubbing me with salt flannel cloths and
the doctor was pouring brandy down
my throat. Oh, how | needed her in
that painful struggle, when, as they
said, i" the fever turned" How need
ed her in those hours of mortal weak
ness which succeeded. 1 could not ask
for her. l could not speak. | could
only think and pray for her, and look
at the door to see if she were coming
in. 1t was the third day, think. after
this that the doctor told me that Arthur
had the fever, upstairs; that had worn
out two trained hospital nurses, and
that had been so delirious as to need
the attendance of two men.
These pictures, said the doctor,
smiling. "have come in for a good deal
of brain trouble" and he pointed to the
Cenci, still covered.
He stepped to the frame and took
down the cover. How DOOR and pale