The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-04-26

ever you want from me--this il not the-the
time. There is nothing to be done tonight
and after to-night'-he could not say the words
-he waved his hand towards the bed She was
dying noW-noT-before their eyes.
Il know what you mean, said the mother
with dreadful calm. '.She won't last out the
night Very likely she won't, but that's what
nobody knows except her Maker Ii she don't
you can't do nothing, and nobody here will say
word. But if she do! Give her Your word. Mr..
Wentworth, as you'll marry her tomorrow If
she lives and she'll die happy. She'll die happy;
whether 1t comes to anything or whether it
dont-Mr Wentworth, sir, do for the love OF
God.n
The girl recovered little, gasping for breath.
"I1l die happy I'll die happy, whether it
comes to anything" Even this little rally
showed more and more the nearness of the end
He had shrunk at the word marry as If it
had been blow aimed at him, but he could not
escape from the tragic persistence of those eyes.
And overwhelmed as he was, alittle hope stirred
in him. He said to hlmselE '.She can never
live till tomorrow" Why should he resist If
words would make her happy for size was
surely dying, and she never could take him at
his word. IF that is all, will promise, he
said.
The light in her eyes seemed to give a leap of
joy and triumph then closed, with Pickering
eyelds, he thought for ever; he cried out invol-
unfairly, and made step nearer to the bed.
who had been dead day. nothing but faint
convulsiye heave of the shoulders showing that
there was life in her still
The mother busted herself about the half-un-
conscious creature, putting the cordial within
her lips, supporting the pillows against her own
breast. You will have easy bargain" she
said, IS she went on with these cares, but any
how we'll bless you for what you say. Matilda,
give me the drops the doctor left for her when
She felt faint. She's very low now, poor dear.
Mr.. Wentworth's behaving Ikea gentleman, as
you always said he would. He has promised to
marry her to morrow morning if she lives. Shelf
not live, but she's satisfied, poor dear"
Matilda had come so softly into the room that
she startled him as if she had been ghost. II
knew as he would do it when he saw how bad
she was; but, Lord, what do it matter to the
poor thing nows'
This was his own opinion. In a few minutes
more there was hustle downstairs, which Ma
tilda pronounced to be the doctor coming, and
Wentworth went down to wait until he had paid
his visit. The little eparlor below had one can
die burning in it, for the benefit of those who
went and came. The young man was left there
for few minutes alone. To describe the condi-
ton in which he was is impossible. His heart
was beating with dull noise against his breast
All that had been SO bright to HIM little while
before had become black night. He could
not think; only contemplate what was before
him dumbly, with horror and disgust and fear
He had given pledge, but it was pledge that
never would call for fui6ment-no,
no, III never cOuIu De- IuluileQ-lL WOulU
be like q nightmare, dreadful dream, from
which he would awake by and by and find the
sun shining and ali well. After a while he heard
the doctors heavy foot come clanping down the
wooden staircase. He was angry with the man
for having so little delcacy Cor making so much
noise when his patient was dying Presently,
he came to give his bulletin to the gentleman,
whom .he perceived at once to be somehow very
deeply concerned.
Last the night! No, don't think she'll last
he r.. hut %ol xvitl
such nervous subjects. She might put a
squirt and come round again for little while"
Then" said Wentworth, with a sense that he
was acquiring information clandestinely, there
is no hope of any permanent recoveryP
the doctor laughed him to scorn. If he ha d
not been parish doctor, accustomed to very
poor patients and their ways, he would not have
allowed himself to laugh in such circumstances.
when she has not above half a lung and her
heart is-but you don't understand these mat
tiers, perhaps. She may make rally for few
hours, but doubt if she will, see out the night
After this Wentworth went home to the closed
up chambers: where nobody expected him, and
to which he got admiLtance under difficulty. He
had to walk miles, he thougnt through those
dreadful streets, all like each other ali cleaning
with the wet, before he could even find cap.
TheresSFas no strength left in him. He went on
and on mechanically, and might he thought,
have been wandering all night, but that the sight
of a vacant cab, which he knew he wanted
brought him back to dull sense of the necessity
of shelter. The cold rooms, so vacant
and unprepared, which were just shelter
and no more, were scarcely an inn
provement upon the mechanical march and
movement which deadened his mind and made
him less sensible Of his terrible position. It
had been arranged that if she were still alive in
the morning messenger was to be sent to him,
and that he then was to take the necessary steps
to redeem his pledge But he said to himself
that it was impossible-that she could not live
till morning. 1t was a horrible moment for
man to go through man whose life had BIOS
somed into such gladness and prosperity. But
still, if he could be but sure that nothing worse
when the doctor himself was all but certain that
she could not see out the nights
no BE Continued