The Londonderry sifter. (South Londonderry, Vt.) 1883-19??, 1884-07-31

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.'
"IIc had led me into the little parlor,
and in few words told ME all that Grace
had concealed from me. Mr.. Hyde had
died insolvcnt. His creditors had seized
upon everything. Mrs. Hyde had rented
a 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
a 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.
"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 child. 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 l 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 check.
"To 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 l was stronger, and would
work bravely without telling you any,
thing that would pain you, and you
shall be yours in the other home. Walk
worthily here, Paul. Consecrate your
self to noble life; remember all the
dreams of your life, and perhaps in the
home to which am going l shall know
it all,
''Thus the days passed till the messen-
ger came, and Grace went with him."
NV uncle sat long time, with his
head on the table before him, before he
spoke again. Then he continued 'I
is thirty years since Grace's mother ano
brothers came to my home. Mrs. Hyde
lived but q few years, and one by ont
the brothers-there were three OF them
made homes for themselves, and wa!
left alone.
'Gn this room I kept the books ant
plants she loved, and her portrait huns
always above my study table; and so
almost lived in her presence. But ther
were times-when my loneliness seemed
insupportable and life was weary bur
den-I would gladly lay down that
might go to her.
"Once have seen her. Do not doub
it, Miriam. Five years ago | was yer
iii for many weeks. Grace's portrait wa
taken from the library and carried to m
chamber, that during the long days
when had only servants for attendants
/ might have her face continually befor
me. The disease gained ground, an
nv physician insisted that must hav
some more suitable attendant. l had 9
that time no near friend or relative will
in many miles distance, and so DR.. I've
brought Jane Hope to the house. | ha
met her frequently in the homes of m
patients, and l knew her as faithfl
nurse.
'In my half dreaming moods ha
fancicd that Grace was with me, and
was not always pleasant to be awakene
by the touch of hand larger an
rougher than hers, and to hear vol
that had precision and hardness In j
, tones. when | had been dreeming of Il
voice so long silent. But learned
, know Jane better and to value her pra
teal knowledge.
, Zone night the narcotics had take
,, instead of producing their usual effec
had brought on a state of feverish wax
fulness. Strange, shadowy forms float'
/, i, around me, sometimes taking to ther
= !. selves the faces of friends had know
! in boyhcod. | could not drive the
I, away. l rubbed my eyes, and sal
There is the table, and there t
window. There is nothing betwe
I me and them;' but the ne
u minute the space would lie fill
u u with my ghostly visitors. Steph
i Grant, who in college bore t
9 name of Euclid Grant, from his devoti
. to his favorite study, and something Of
mathematical precision in every actio
'' sto9d at the foot of my bed, in the d
light, wearing the same look of imp
,, turbable gravity, his head covered wi
le triangles, and his hands filled with circ
II and squares. In low, monotonous vo
he was reciting the causes of my disea
: and prescribing for its cure: Let ALB
:, - the disease, anq CD the time. Then
IS the square Of He was interrupted
d the dancing entrance of the young q
who thirty five years before had taus
m him lessons with which Euclid had no
6 ing to do. She came with the freshn
of springtime around her, bearing in
If hands arbutus flowers, violets and daisi
q which she threw upon our Euclid. I'll
a. fell upon him and wreathcd themsel
in around the angles, circles and squares
n which he had buried himself. Thel
,d violin on the table commenced playin
60 lively strain. and tables, chairs q
/ ghostly forms in wild confusion ming
nc in the dance, and saw no more.
er "When awoke the light still burr
on dimly, and the portrait of my lost CIR
ed looked tendcriy, pityingly upon me, an
he knew that through all the long years
er. loneliness thus had she looked dc
80 ,U,p MO I.colafa hopa Nbop my