The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1884-01-03
could not get well, and 1 came with a

could not nave felt more guilty or con-
temptible if she had stabbed him with
a knife and received in return his dying
benediction. But she had the courage
of desperation, and she kept on. She
told him her plan, which was, briefly,
to marry him and attend him carefully
for the trihing remnant of his existence.
In return for which he was to bestow
upon her the inestimable privileges of
widOwhood.
It was not so bluntly stated, of course,
and was accompanied by many why's
and wherefores intended TO modify to
some extent what she considered the
tiendish conception and the indelicate
execution of the plot.
1t was of no consequence whatever to
Hemingway that she desired his demise;
was even figuring upon it at that mo-
ment with pleasurable anticipations of
time when it would have cast about
her mantle of unimpeachable dignity
and permanent security from social per-
secutions. She was sitting there, like
a section of paradise. fitted into that
dingy chair. Illuminating the whole
room and filling it with the exquisite
odor of heliotrope. To such presence
a man may forgive much. There was
but one thought in his mind after he
was assured that it was not an illusion
which had come to torture him with
malicious contrast. Her friends would
certainly object"
She assured him with strict veracity
that it was her own affair entirely and
rested with themselves.
When it all came out Annie was
shocked beyond anything. She had al :,
ways known that "Meg" would do some
thing disgraceful, but she was not pre-
pared for this. To deliberately pro-
pose to man and then coolly sit down
with the eyes of the whole community
upon her and wait for him TO Dict
was too much.
The Doctor was secretly in sympathy
with what he called the Mutual Benefit
association, and the result of all this
was an immediate and quiet wedding,
at which the groom did not wear the
regulation black.
Any unpleasant gossip that might
have followed the event was neatly
averted by story industriously circu-
lated by Tom Ainslee to the effect that
Hemingway was really an old lover of
"Meg's," and some mysterious hints of
romantic story in the background that
he could tell if he felt disposed.
A week later, when Ainslee came for
his usual afternoon visit to the invalid,
Meg called him aside and hesitatingly
inquired whether he thought it would
hurt the patient to be moved.
"Um-m-m, no, / don't think it would
hurt him to be moved in fact, am
sure it would not; but l would suggest
that you are in danger of defeating
your own purpose. IL You nurse him
too well, you know, he might recover;
and 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"
near the river, with plenty of space
around it and windows that looked out
upon an expanse of shining water and
far-blue rims of hills. 1t was June;
about the verandas and windows hung
a mass of climbing roses that filled the
place with fragrance, and into the airy
front room, with its fine windows and
its distant glimpses Of river and green
hills beyond, went the invalid's bed
All day long the fresh breeze from
the river, laden with the odor OF roses,
parted the feecy 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 din
the only echo of these that reached
him now was the daily pilgrimage OF
Tom Ainslee's buggy. Near him, all
day long, sat Meg" in her soft, white
dress and her flowers, with the soft
light on her brown hair, and a softer
light in her great, violet eyes, sur
roundings which certainly invited an
interest in terrestrial things, and, as
the weeks passed on, John Hemingway
"a man of honor and sensitive
conscience--began to be troubled with
a misgiving-a misgiving that, after
all, he was not going to fulfill his part of
the contract. He felt that, for the
first time in bis life, he was about to
go squarely back on an obligation. He
had entered into deliberate contract
to die within a given time, and what
amends could he make for his ungener-
Gus recovery? 1t would be but a poor
return for her assiduous attention and
tender illustrations. She could not
have been more sweetly careful of his
comfort if she had "loved with love
that was more than love-" in return for
which he was about TO infiict upon her
a permanent and unmitigated disap-
pointment. In vain he assured himself
that had he even dreamed Of possible
recovery he would never have allowed
her to take such risk This could
not possibly alleviate her disappoint-
ment nor excuse his perfidy.
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 to
the hills beyond the river. She brought
them back presently, and they rested
for a moment on the face among the
pillows. The disfguring beard had
been removed and the face was GER