The Penn's Grove record., 1884-03-29
THE WIFE.

THE DOCTORS WIFI.
1t was a dull November evening, and
! had been upon my feet all day; head
and heart aching over pain and sorrow
that | could do so little-so very little
to aid and comfort For l was a young
physician, with a large practice among
the very poor, and an income so narrow
that | had to pinch and save. My
house was my own, a dismal, tumble
down MANSION that had once held aristo-
cratic owners. But the tide of fashion
had swept away from it, and | inherited
it from a long-dead uncle, and kept it
because nobody wanted to buy it. Here
in the few habitable rooms, Martha,
my housekeeper, cook, maid-of-all-
work, and domestic tyrant, made my
home as comfortable As our very small
means allowed. Whatever else of COM
fort failed me, | was always sure of a
good fire. 1t threw a red light upon
my sitting-room as | entered, and l
drew off my soaked boots, and ventured
to order a cup of coffee. was slipping
it contentedly, and congratulating my
self that | was to have a long, pleasant
evening, when an ominous ring at the
bell startled me.
Twill you please tell the doctor Mrs.
Rivers is took bad AGAIN."
There was no help for it. The last
drops of fragrant coffee were hastily
Swallowed, and with one fond, lingering
look at the rudy, smiling CRATE, l was
off again for a half-mile tramp through
the mud and slush. knew as | plodded
along, that my errand was a vain one.
Mrs. Rivers was dying of an incurable
complaint. But OF all my many pa
tients there was no one who more
strongly enlisted u sympathy than
Mrs. Rivers. Living in a wretched
attic with scarcely food to eat, she bore
in her face, voice and manner the proof
of refined culture and high breeding,
One child, a little girl of about ten
years, was the companion of her pow
erty, the sole comfort of her dying
hours. 1t was pitiful to see the child.
fair and painfully slender, waiting with
wOmanly patience and s~elf-control at
the bedside OF her mother. l knew
when | entered the room, upon the dull
November night of which l write, that
need never again climb those steer
stairs to give my poor aid to Mrs. Riv'
ers. The paroxysm Of acute pain was
over, but death had drawn its fingers
over the sufferers brow. leaving his I'M
m"istakable traces there.
"Nlamma would not take the opiate,'
Lima whispered to me, ''because she
wanted to speak to you l am to &C
down stairs, but you will call me as soon
as you can, will you not?"
"As soon as she wishes it, | said,
taking the little SCARED hands in mine.
lyon shall not be kept from her, dear
child"
She looked up gratefully, through a
mist of unshed tears, and then went
down stairs, while l drew up the only
chair in the room, IN answer to the soft,
pleading eyes fixed upon me. While
strength was granted to her, Mrs. Riv'
ers told me the sad story of her life, and
gave into my care a few relics of better
days, to keep for Lima. For Lima.
That was the dying woman's only sor'
row, as she drew near to the land OF
shadows. |, who knew how carefully
the child had been guarded and cher
ished amidst her rough surroundings.
understood only too well the agony Of
her mothers heart at the prospect Of
having her thrust into a work house
A wild resolution came into my heart
Mrs. Rivers" | said, gravely anC
gently, ''you have shown in the last
hour that you trusted me in many
things. WIN you put n % trust il
me?"
"IIave you not been my kind, patient
friend for many months2" she an
swered.
"WilI you, then, trust Lima to my
care while | try to find her relatives?
will be all a brother can be to her,"
A flash of JOY irradiated the wan, dy
ing face.
"God bless you," she said. ''May
mothers dying blessing rest ever upoI
your head"
"Amenln | whispered, as went t.
call the child.
Then l returned to watch until tn
last, holding the slender little tigur,
close to my side, glad IN my limos
heart that l had long before won Lima
affection. When the end came, sh,
turned to me with apatlent resignation
heart-breaking to witness in II 81
young.
"Mamma said | must be glad she wa
to have no nor PAIN" she said, visit
fully; "bnt it is very hard to be gla'
without her."
Every hard" l replied, "unless yol
think all tho time how happy she |
now"
1t was a deep dip into my slende