The Pascagoula democrat-star. (Pascagoula, Miss.) 1878-1920, 1884-03-14
PAsCAGOULA, MISSISSIPPI, FRIDAY MARCH IA 1884

mated Mllly.
Iput the girl into the ears, aud
in that last moment heart spoke to
heart.
''Good-bye,' said, scarce know.
ing what said. ''God bless Won.
love, and pity me!n
"Aud help you,7 she whispered.
ito do your duty! Oh, George. be
good to her, she is herself so good
and indeed she loves you-dear.
er than her lite!7
There was Il curious smile on
Mllly's pale, sad taee, and a strange
light in her eyes, as | reioined
her.
"She is a good and noble sirl,n
she said, more TO herself than to
me, thought-''and love her
alb, wait awhile-as | love you !;
you will both know some day, how
wellw
That day came all too soon.
Three weeks had passed since Mays
departure, and l had quite made
up my mind to shrink no longer
from the fulfillment OF my pledge,
so asked Milly TO fix upon our
wedding day.
Her aee flushed crimson first,
aud then turned pale, aud look
OF pain dawned in her eyes.
"Not YET" she said. abe pa
tient a little longer,n and then she
pressed her hands upon her breast
aud half whispered--egive me only
Il little longer timer
did not urge her /; why should
IL | believed that she saw the
change in my feelings aud was
panied by it. 1 believed that this
should be so, but what could | do 7
We were all doomed to suffer.
1t was at nO0n.time in the factory
that | asked her-partly on the
spur OF the moment, partly because
| could be spared the hypocrisy of
any tender passages there
went back to my work. We
used steam, of course. 10 this
hour | dou't know what went
wrong. Suddenly there was an
explosion, an awful noise, u rush,
"a piercing cry, and a woman flung
herself before me, throwing her
dress, her hair, her apron, | know
not what, about my neck and face,
and then knew no more for many
hours.
When | recovered consciousness
| found nysest uninJured, save by
the shock, but Milly--my poor,
generous, wronged loye-Milly was
dying.
She had thrown herself before
me, screening me from the smoke
and steam. She was bruised,
crushed, scalded almost past recog.
nition, only the gentle eyes, full OF
mingled agony and love, looked up
iuto my face, unchanged.
"Don't cry,' she whispered, as
| knelt beside her bed in all the
agony of self-reproach. at is so
much better thus. / am so glad to
have it thus, dear. It's only life
that | am losing now. Had |
lived longer | should have lost you,
aud | loved you dearer than my
life"
May had been sent for. 1t was
midnight ere she arrived, and Milly
was sinking fast.
She frightened at the sight of
the weeping girl, though.
"No tears" she said. 81 meant
to give you to each other by aud
by, as soon as could conquer my
own heart. l knew you loved, but
that you were good and true to me.
But should have been unhappy, |
confess, and it is much better now.
Think of me sometimes when | am
gone. l die happily-happily for
your sake, whom l loved dearer
than my life."
Her faint voice ceased, her sweet
eyes closed. Her pain aud grief
were over. My little, gentle, gen.
crous love had passed from earth
to heaven.
Years passed ere | forgot that
mourntul hour, and when at last
we married, as was Milly's wish, a
shade of fond regret was cast, even
on our welded happiness, by the
memory of the devoted, tender
girl who had loved me so much
dearer than her life.