Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1884-12-04
THE MODERN RUTH.

THE MODERN RUTH.
DR.. Alexander Andover threw him
self into the big leather-covered chair
before his office fire with weary sigh.
He was fine-looking man of thirty;
not handsome, but noble and manly
Ilooking-one to be trusted forever, with
his broad, white brow and grave, clear
gray eyes. His lips, too, under the
full brown beard were as fine as wo-
mans, without lacking in strength and
firmness.
DIR. Andover's patients especially
the poorer class and the children
turned to him instinctively for advice
and sympathy. His was one of those
grand. kingly natures which seem
made for leaders and comforters Poor
old Betty Cary. q bed-ridden paralytic,
could not speak of him without she'd
ding tears of gratitude. Little Jane
Ellis, suffering with an incurable hip
disease, looked upon him rs sort of
god upon earth. There were score
more who thought of him not only as
their physician, but rs kind and gen.
erous friend. who delighted to brighten
the lives which would otherwise be poor
and barren enough.
But fate had lately frowned upon
him. In the first place, the bank in
which the greater part of his snug lit
tie fortune was deposited had failed,
and directly upon this came the news
that some mining stock in which he
had invested was worthless, or nearly
SO. The doctor did not fear poverty
himself-his practice brought him a
comfortable income, for the rich app
preciated him as we'll as the poor-but
miles away in a distant city there was
lovely girl whom he had hoped TO
call wife by Christmas time. A girl
who, though not wealthy herself, had
been extravagantly educated by her
uncle, in whose luxurious home she
lived. He knew that not the slightest
privation had ever come to her; she
was petted darling, with hands like a
baby's. He had never questioned if
she knew anything about work-the
idea in connection with Maud Everleth
was absurd. He had been able to take
her to a home rs fine rs the one she
would leave, but that was gone now.
Lovely, dainty, useless rs she seemed,
DIR. Andover had poured the whole
passion Of his great heart out upon
her; and you are not TO think him weak
because just ut first, when the news of
his ill-fortune came to him, he shrank
and trembied under it. thinking of the
girl he loved. For he must give her
up; there was no doubt in his mind
about that. He could not ask her to
share the fate of poor physician who
depended upon his fees for living.
de even smiled grirniy in the midst of
his suffering Mt the thought of Maud
in calico dress, mixing up bread or
washing dishes with her white, slender
fingers, which he had only seen toying
with her fan, working embroidery. or
dashing over the keys of piano.
So DIR. Andover had written her
brave farewell letter, just month be-
fore the time set for their wedding, in
forming her of his altered fortunes,
and releasing her from her engage
ment to him, and he had received no
answer, although it was now Christ
mas week.
The doctor was worn out with ex-
posure to rough weather and many
sleepless nights. The demand upon
his time and strength had been greater
than usual, yet he had replied to them
all, never failing in kindly courtesy
beside the couch of Betty Cary any
more than in the luxurious chamber of
Madam Golddust, who feed him so
generously.
1t was Christmas week, and Maud
was to have been his own next Friday
fnr
ceasingly. together with some words
in letter which had reached him
few days before; letter from an ac-
quaintance who was visiting in the city
where Maud lived.
Il met your 'tiance' at party last
evening"" he had written. II admire
your choice. She was the brightest,
loveliest there, and the most graceful
dancer"
DIR. Andover experienced a cruel
sense of desolation as he turned that
sentence over and over in his mind.
Maud had not loved him, after all.
She could be gay and bright when
they were forever separated!
The Office fire smouldered to ashes,
and still he sat there, still and sad, I'M
til from sheer exhaustion he fell into
an uneasy slumber. About midnight
he awoke, alternately burning and
shivering, while dull pain throbbed
in his temples
The doctors apartments were COM
modious and comfortable A LARGE
chamber opened from his private Office
which latter opened from large re-
ceiving-room.
lie was his own patient now, so he
fastened to bed; and when his land
lady came in the morning to call him,
she found him unable to rise from his
pillow, feverish and half delirious.
Christmas morning came bright and
frosty-a day after St. Nicholas's own
heart-and the doctor, trifle better.
although weak and languid, opened
his eyes TO close them again imme-
diately with a little pang. This was to
have been his wedding day! He could
hear the merry salutations on the
street, the clash of sleigh-bells. and
tho pealing organ from St Paul's
church over the way; and the sunlight
and mirth and gladness made his own
pain seem the keener-just for a mom-
ent, until his generous heart could
gather strength to reassert itself, and
be glad because others were glad.
The landlady, who had been like a
mother to him, came in presently with
very smiling expression upon her
broad face.
Many of his grateful patients had
remembered him with some little
Christmas token, and Mrs. Derby had
placed them upon the stand at his bed
side; but now she held in her hands
small package addressed to him in
familiar lady's hand and registered
in distant city.
Mand had returned the engagement
ring. DR. AndoFer received the pack
age in silence, and Mrs. Derby looked
y. him with crestfallen expression.
Il thought you would be pleased,
doctor. I've come to know Miss Ever
leth's handwriting you see, and l sup
posed she had sent you a Christmas
present. The package came two days
ago when you were delirious, and /
signed the registry-card and made
bold to send the lady telegram. mott
flying her of your illness. And, DIR.
Andoyer, can you bear some pleasant
news? / received telegram in return
stating that Miss Eyerieth wol1id start