The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1884-03-15

"Um-m-m. no, don't think it would
hurt him to be moved in fact, | an
sure it would not but | would sugges
that you are in danger of defeating you
own purpose. If YOU nurse him toe
well, you know, he might recover, anc
that, under the circumstances, would
fall little short of disaster"
Don't be brutal Tom," she said
"This place is ineffably dismal, and he
may as well be comfortable for the little
time that is left
She took a cottage in the suburbs
near the river, with plenty of space
around it, and windows that looked ou
upon an expanse of shining water anc
far blue rims of hills. 1t was June
about the verandas and windows huns
mass of climbing roses that filled the
place with fragrance, and into the air,
front room, with its wide windows anC
its distant g!impses of river and greer
hills beyond, went the invalid's bed.
All day long the fresh breeze from
the river, laden with the odor of roses
parted the heecy drapery of the win.
dows and blew softly upon his face
Everywhere reigned the delicious quiet
his tortured nerves had needed above
all things the grateful absence Of the
sound of wheels and other urban noises
that had fretted his soul with their dir
the only echo of these that reached
him now was the daily pilgrimage o.
Tom Ainslee's buggy. Near him, al
day long, sat "Meg" in her soft white
dress and her flowers, with the soft light
on her brown hair, and softer light in
her great violet eyes surrounding
which certainly invited an interest in
terrestrial things, and, as the weeks
passed by, John Hemingway, a man Of
honor and sensitive conscience, began
to be troubled with misSiving-a mis-
giving that after all he was not going to
fulfil his part of the contract. He felt
that for the first time in his life he was
about to go squarely back on an obi
CATION. He had entered into DELHI
crate contract to die within a given time
and what amends could he make fol
his ungenerous recovery? 1t would be
but poor return for her assiduous atten-
ton and tender ministrations. She
could not have been more sweetly care
full of his comfort if she had ''loved with
a love that was more than love-" in re-
turn for which he was about to inhict
upon her a permanent and unmitigated
disappointment. In vain he assured
himself that had he ever dreamed of .
possible recovery he would never have
allowed her to take such a risk. Thi:
could not possibly alleviate her disap.
pointment nor excuse his profdity.
He was thinking of these things one
day as he lay with his face turned in
ward looking at Meg, whose eyes had
wandered from the book in her hand tc
the hills beyond the river. She brough
them back presently, and they ,esteC
for a moment on the face among the
pillows The dishguring beard had beer
removed and the face was certainly bet
ter than when she had first seen it. She
supplied an imaginary roundnesS o
contour and decided that nothing bu
health was needed to make him a yer,
handsome man.
John, your face is certainly getting
fuller; suppose, after all, you SHOULD
get well?"
This sentence, inspired by tende
interest, had somewhat heartless rim!
when uttered.
at would certainly be an ungratefu
return for all your kindness, bat | an
afraid | am getting better" he said
apologeticallv. ain fact, Tom intimate,
to- day that | might recover"
Meg also had a misgiving. She hat
thought good deal about the posi-
bility of his recovery, and wondered
| whether it would make much differenc
| to him. Whether John Hemingway
restored to health and no longer in nee
of nursing, might not wish himself
single man again whether there Nigh
not be in all the lands he had traverse,
some one he would have preferred t
her if he could have had his choice ar
known that he was going to live, an
there was nothing reassuring in his re
mark that he was ''afraid he was gettin
| better"
Don't you want to get well, John ?
she asked, sadly, trying to scan his fac
in the deepening twilight.
1T is not the thing to do uRder tn
circumstances" he answered, plaintive
". After a moments silence he reache
down for the hand that was resting 0
his counterpane, and asked, tremr
| lousy
Would you be-very much disaI
| pointed if | should get well?"
| In an instant she was kneeling by tn
| bed, with her arms around him, he
moist lashes brushing his face.
Jack" she said, ''if you don't g
well I'll be the wretchedest widow tn;
ever scbbed above the wreck of bliss.
Though man were dead yet sha
he live at such solicitation" said Tohl
as his arms closed about her with
pressure that argued returning vitalit
They were not the arms of man lyin
at deaths door, indifferent to the po
sibilities of the world behind him.
[Chicago Tribune.