The Warner weekly sun. (Warner, Brown Co., Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1885, 1884-12-26

/ EAAN 10 AAAEN2oAbAS'
one member of our firm live abroad. i
consider the necessity very opportune,
and shall have all my arrangements
completed by next week to sail for Eu-
rope. This is not so hard for me, for
am a man, but for you-God forgive me
for what"
You mistake, Mr.. Carlson" inter
rupted his wife, Jelly. 1T IS the easl,
est and most appropriate thing that
could be done"
Arthur looked down at the figure be-
fore him. The darkness and the wavy
masses of hair hid her face, else he
surely would have seen the white lips
and burning fearless eyes.
Il do not blame You Margie," he
said, gently, but sadly. II only won
der that you can bear me here at all. |
crave your forgiveness and [ pray God
that I may not utterly blight your hap
Ply life"
Arthur waited a moment as II to
hear one word of farewell, but the
figure before him never moved or
spoke. Then, gazing at his wife, to
imprint upon his mind a picture that
he never forgot, he turned and left the
room
All night long Margaret sat in the
little low chair where Arthur had left
her. Only once she stopped to pick mp
a crushed flower, with which she had
been playing, and pressed 1t passionate
ly to her lips.
Two years now passed away, and the
following winter found Judge ThurstOn
and his daughter under the gentle skies
of Florence. The Judge was suffering
in health, which some said was due to
Margaret's unlucky marriage. How
ever that was. the two were very dear
to each other and were rarely seen
apart.
Several days after their arrival in
Florence Margaret met her landlady in
the hall, who, with a tray in her hand,
was just coming out of the room oppo-
site. Stopping to enquire if any one
were i'll, the kind but gossipy little
landlady began to tell in broken
Italian of the young foreigner who
had come to her a few weeks before,
and who shortly after had been taken
i'll with a fever, aud now was very
i'll indeed. She said the young man
had no friends, and that the good
doctor often came away looking very
grave indeed. After that day many
a dainty bouquet or basket of luscious
fruit found its way to the sick
man, while the landlady often
told the young gentleman of the tall,
sad-faced lady who had sent the gifts.
One day as this same lady stepped out
of her room prepared for a drive, she
met the doctor returning from a visit o
his patient. The doctor advanced tow
ard her hesitatingly.
'1sYou are an American, miss?" he
said at last.
Eyes, sir"
Margaret answered SO pleasantly that
the doctor continued with more assur-
ance, at the same time waving with his
hand to the room he had just left:
There is a young gentleman in there,
miss, who is not long for this world.
He is an American, also. 1t is very
hard to die so, miss-so great distance
from ones people, and with no kind
friends"
"You are right" Margaret answered
gravely, sit is indeed hard. My ia
ther spoke yesterday of going in to see
the gentleman. He is out Just at pres
ent, but if I may / will go in now"
After a moments absence the doc
tor returned and conducted Margaret
into the room. The curtains were
closely drawn, and coming from the
light into the darkness she was blinded
for a moment. Not SO with the sick
man. Looking up to greet his visitor he
uttered a sharp cry and the n word
"Margiei"
Margaret stood as If stunned, and
then, advancing rapidly to the bed she
kneeled down beside it and buried her
face in the pillows. The poor doctor
with a confused look turned and hastily
left the room. There was a moments
stiffness, broken only by Marga-
ret's low sobbing. The form be-
fore her seemed to be the wreck oil
a once strong and beautiful manhood
The sick man was Arthur Carlson. He
raised biz thin, wasted hand and tend
erly stroke66 Tic bright locks on the
pillleww beside him. little
Margie," he said family, "you viii
soon be free now"
Then, Margaret never knew how
she forgot everything connected witt
the past, she only remembered that the
man lying there, sick unto death, was
her husband, AT last the proud spiri
was humbIed, and she confessed what
she had so jealously guarded in her owl
breast for so long. 20, Arthur" sh,
cried in her agony, 20, my husband
only forget the past and try to live TO
the future. God helping me, vii
yet win your love.
The white face on the pillow lit III
like the c~ountenance Of the dying VIII
500 heavenly yisions. The eycitemen