The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1884-09-03

tones, when had been dreeming of the
voice 80 long silent. But | learned to
know Jane better and to value her prac.
tical knowledge.
zone night the narcotics had taken.
instead of producing their usual effect,
had brought on state of feverish wake
fulness. Strange, shadowy forms foated
around me, sometimes taking to them
selves the faces of friends l had known
in boyhood l could not drive them
away. | rubbed my eyes, and said
There is the table, and there the
window. There is nothing between
me and them;' but the next
minute the space would be filled
with my ghostly visitors. Stephen
Grant, who in college bore the
name of Euclid Grant, from his devotion
to his favorite study, and something of
mathematical precision in every action,
stood at the foot of my bed, in the dim
light, wearing the same look of imper-
turbable gravity, his head covered with
triangles, and his hands filled with circles
and squares. In a low, monotonous voice
he was reciting the causes of my disease,
and prescribing for its cure: Let ALB be
the disease, ana CD the time Then to
the square Of He was interrupted by
the dancing entrance of the young girl,
who thirty-tive years before had taught
him lessons with which Euclid had moth
ing to do. She came with the freshness
of springtime around her, bearing in her
HANDS arbutus flowers, violets and daisies,
which she threw upon our Euclid They
fell upon him and wreathed themselves
around the angles, circles and squares in
which he had buried himself. Then a
violin on the table commenced playing a
lively strain, and tables, chairs and
ghostly forms in wild confusion mingled
in the dance, and | saw no more.
"When I awoke the light still burned
dimly, and the portrait of my lost Grace
looked tenderly, pityingly upon me, and 1
knew that through all the long years Of
loneliness thus had she looked down
upon my desolate home When my sor-
row had seemed greater than could bear
one thought had strengthened me-the
thought that in the home to which she
had gone should never more be lonely;
she would be mine forever.
'But that night the earthly future
seemed so long and the way lead
ing through it so weary and desc
late, in my agony l cried: How long!
oh! how longp Then the face changed.
1t became living face, as full of tender
ness as before, but wearing a cheerful,
hopeful look; and--you will think it a
dream, Miriam, but was not sleeping-I
saw her as plainly as l see you now. Sac
seemed to step down from the canvas
fn
tried to rise. | stretched forth my arms
to clasp her; but the waving of her hand
,repelled me, and her upward look seemed
TO say, Not here, but there She drew
nearer, and then l saw Jane Hope, my
kind, faithful nurse, by her side. Then
she took James hand in her own-that
little pale hand-and holding it mo-
meut she placed it in mine, and said, in
those low, sweet tones, thrilling my
whole being: Take her, Paul, my Paul;
she will help yon and comfort you till
you come to me. l am waiting for YOU
Paul; in his time you will come, and
then, my own knew nothing more of
that strange night, nor of many follow
ing days and nights.
During the days of convalescence
the portrait had such happy look and
when Jane brought me the tempting
delicacies she could so we'll prepare,
there was smile of sweet contentment
on the face. So learned to watch for
her coming, and to be very happy when
she sat by me, busy with her sewing, or
when | could watch her moving around
the room, giving those indescribable
touches to its arrangements which do so
much to please the eye.
"When l was we'll enough to 90 out
Jane came one morning to tell me she
was going away. l told her all, and
asked her to stay with me always. The
next week we were married and my
kind, good nurse has proved the kindest
and best of wives"
A strange ending to all of Paul East
mans early hopes; strange awakening
from his early Dreams From Grace, the
beautiful and gifted Grace, purified by
suffering, whose sanity life was holy
memory in the hearts of all who loved
her, to cold, stern, practical Jane Hope
the faithful hOusekeeper. and alas moth
ing more, how great the change
Did the young wife, looking down
upon his earthly needs, send a messenger
to give Paul Eastman a wife who should
mend his stockings and keep his house
clean; make his cruel and his bed I; nurse
his gouU and prescribe for his rheumatism;
or was it an overdose of morphine that
did the workl Who shall say? He
firmly believed that Jane was sent to him
by Grace, and so he is content; while
i only tell the tale as twas told to
me-"