Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1884-10-09
THE MODERN RUTH.

self into the big leather-covered chair
before his office fire with n weary sigh.
He was tine-looking man of thirty;
not handsome, but noble and manly
looking-one TO be trusted forever, with
his broad, white brow and grave, clear
gray eyes. His lips, too, under the
full brown beard were as fine rs wo-
mans, without lacking in strength and
iirmness.
DIR. Andover's patients-especially
the poorer class and the children
turned to him instinctively for advice
and sympathy. His was one of those
grand. kingly natures which seem
made for leaders and comforters. Poor
old Betty Cary. bed-ridden paralytic
could not speak of him without she'd
ding tears of gratitude. Little Jane
Ellis, suffering with an incurable hip
disease, looked upon him rs sort of
god upon earth. There were n score
more who thought of him not only rs
their physician, but rs kind and gen.
erous friend. who delighted to brighten
the lives which would otherwise be poor
and barren enough.
But fate had lately frowned upon
him. In the first place, the bank in
which the greater part of his snug lit
tie fortune was deposited had failed,
and directly upon this came the news
that some mining stock in which he
had invested was worthless, or nearly
so. The doctor did not fear poverty
himself-his practice brought him a
comfortable income, for the rich APP
preciatcd him rs well as the poor-but
miles away in y distant city there was
u lovely girl whom he had hoped TO
call wife by Christmas time. A girl
who, though not wealthy herself, had
been extravagantly educated by her
uncle, in whose luxurious home she
lived. He knew that not the slightest
privation had ever come to her; she
was petted darling, with hands like a
baby's. He had never questioned it
she knew anything about work-the
idea in connection with Maud Everleth
was absurd. He had been able to take
her to homo as fine as the one she
would leave, but that was gone now.
Lovely, dainty, useless rs she seemed,
DIR. Andover had poured the whole
passion of his great heart out upon
her; and You are not 10 think him weak
because Just at first, when the news of
his ill-fOrtune came to him, he shrank
and trembled under ii, thinking of the
girl he loved. Fo: he must give her
up; there was no doubt in his mind
about that He could not ask her 10
share the fate of poor physician who
depended upon his fees for living.
He even smiled grimly in the midst of
his suffering ut the thought of Maud
in calico dress, mixing up bread or
washing dishes with her white. slender
fingers, which he had only seen toying
with her fan, working embroidery, or
dashing over the keys OF piano.
So DIR. Andover had written her a
brave farewell letter, just n month be-
fore the time set for their wedding, in
forming her of his altered fortunes.
and releasing her from her engage
ment to him, and he had received no
answer, although it was now Christ
mas week.
The doctor was worn out with ex-
posure to rough weather and many
sleepless nights. The demand upon
his time and strength had been greater
than usual, yet he had replied to them
all, never failing in kindly courtesy
beside the couch of Betty Cary any
more than in the luxurious chamber OF
Madam Golddust, who feed him so
generously.
1t was Christmas week, and Maud
was to have been his own next Friday
night. This thought tortured him I'M
ceasingly, together with some words
in letter which had reached him q
few days before; letter from an &C
quaintance who was visiting in the city
where Maud lived.
II met your 'fance' at party last
evening"" he had written. II admire
your choice. She was the brightest,
loveliest there, and the most graceful
dancer"
DIR. Andover experienced a cruel
sense of desolation as he turned that
sentence over and over in his mind.
Maud had not loved him, after all.
She could be gay and bright when
they were forever separated
Tho office fire smouldered to ashes,
and still he sat there, still and sad, un
til from sheer exhaustion he fell into
an uneasy slumber. About midnigh
he awoke, alternately burning anc
shivering, while q dull pain throbbet
in his temples.
The doctors apartments were com
modious and comfortable. A large
chamber opened from his private office
which latter opened from large re
ceiving-room.
He was his own patient now. SO III
fastened to bed; and when his land
lady came in the morning to call him
she found him unable to rise from hi
pillow, feverish and half delirious.
Christmas morning came bright ant
frosty-a day after St. Nicholas ow'
heart-and the doctor, trifle better
although weak and languid, opene'
his eyes TO close them again imme
diately with little pang. This was Z
have been his wedding dayl He coul'
hear the merry salutations on tn
street, the clash of sleigh-bells. an,
the pealing organ from ST. Paul
church over the way; and the sunligh
and mirth and gladness made his owl
pain seem the keener-just for MON
emit, until his generous heart coul
gather strength to reasscrt itself. an
be glad because others were glad.
The landlady, who had been like
mother to him, came In presently wit