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

hoobAAJg WIN u JIG6tubliIOnb VI coming
Ill, forfhad heard nothing from Grace
for many weeks. There were these words
from DR.. Merton, the family physician of
the Hydes:
DEAR PAUL; Grace does not wish to alarm
her mother, and therefore wishes me TO write.
Her days are numbered. Come quickly, if
you would see her.
'You can imagine the slow passing of
the days that were bearing me to Grace.
She was dying; she might be gone be-
fore | could reach her; and, as if in
mockery of my impatience, the dull,
monotonous ticking of the clock sounded
in my ears and the minutes passed so
slowly. At last we reached New York.
A few hours ride in the cars and / was
in A. | went Immediately to her
house, but there was a strange name on
the door plate. rang, and inquired
where Mrs. Hyde had removed. The
servant gave me the street and number.
| soon found the house, small cottage,
in retired street. what was the cause
of this removal 2 asked myself why
had they left their old home ? and why
had Grace never mentioned it in her let
ters Was it possible that poverty had
been added TO the sorrow of that great
bereavement and Grace had concealed it
to avoid giving me painP Absorbed in
these thoughts, stood at the door of the
cottage, just as DR.. Merton was passing
out. He grasped my hand. Welcome
home, Paul. he said. They are all ex-
pecting you. Grace is quiet; she does
not suffer now. tell you, Paul, there is
no use in tying to keep her here. She
belongs to better world. Angels like
her are not given to us for long time.
They do their work quickly and then go
home
''He had led me into the little parlor
and in few words told me all that Grace
had concealed from me. Mr.. Hyde had
died insolvent. His creditors had seized
upon everything. Mrs. Hyde had rented
small house, and furnished it plainly
with the little remnant of the estate
which was left them. Few, even their
most intimate friends, knew how very
small this remnant was. Grace obtained
n large class of pupils in music, and at
night, when she returned, weary from
her lessons, she taught classes in French.
With brave heart she worked sustained
by the consciousness that her mother was
saved from toll and her little brothers
were unconscious of the loss they had
sustained.
1.-The constant, wearving toll was too
much for one so wholly unused to it.
While the spirit was very strong and the
heroic young girl found peace in living
for others, the warning came. She must
rest. A little longer sne struggled, then
sank, and there was no help for her. Her
earthly work was done. The
old man wept like a child. l could not
weep. In my heart rebellious voice
was saying: 1t must not be. Grace
shall not die. Lite is worthless without
her.
THAT evening she was my wife. l
begged that it might be so; that might
not lose sight of her while she remained
How beautiful she was-my Grace-in
that hour, with the dark hair brushed
back from the pale forehead, the un
natural brightness that shone in her eyes
and the burning crimson in her cheek.
ITO love and cherish till death do us
part" Are those words uttered with a
full feeling of their significance when
hopes are bright and life seems only to
have commenced9 To us they were full
of solemn import. Death might come to
do his work in one week, one day, one
hour, and l should have no Grace, no
wife.
But she was mine, mine and to-
gether we waited the summons that
should separate us. In the few days that
remained she told me of the bright hopes
of the future-our future-that had sus-
tanned her in the days of trial and of the
faith that had made all things easy to
bear.
''If had known it would end so,
Paul, she said 4 would have told you;
but thought | was stronger, and would
work bravely without telling you any
thing that would pain you, and you
would soon come. But it is all right.
shall be yours in the other home. Walk
worthily here, Paul. Consecrate your
self to a noble life; remember all the
dreams of your life, and perhaps in the
home to which l am going l shall know
it all
THUS the days passed till the messen-
ger came, and Grace went with him.
My uncle sat long time, with his
head on the table before him, before he
spoke again Then he continued: ut
is thirty years since Grace's mother and
brothers came 10 my home. Mrs. Hyde
lived but few years, and one by one
the brothers-there were three of them
made homes for themselves, and l was
left alone.
SIN this room kept the books and
plants she loved, and her portrait hung
always above my study table; and so /
almost lived in her presence. But there
were times-when my loneliness seemed
and life was weary bur
den-I would gladly lay down that l
might go to her.
"Once l have seen her Do not doubt
it, Miriam. Five years ago l was very
i'll for many weeks. Grace's portrait was
taken from the library and carried TO my
chamber, that during the long days
when had only servants for attendants,
might have her face continually before
me. The disease gained ground. and