The Donaldsonville chief. [volume] (Donaldsonville, La.) 1871-current, 1885-08-08
Written for the CHIEF.
AILDA's BOUQUET AND ITS
TRAGEDY.
BY RUTH RAMAY.

b1 NUN hAWh4s
CHAPTER 111-Continued.
They who go
Feel not tho pain OF parting; 1t Is they
Who stay bChlnd that suffer.
-Longtellow.
The winter in Nice did not greatly i'm
provo Gerald's health, even though his wife
and little daughter were with him most OF
the time, 80 the spring found them still
there, and the summer was passed in trav-
cling from place to place, q month or two al
one and then n change. Though Gerald
did not get we'll, he grew no worse, and sc
was hopeful. In the fall they stopped nt
Lorento, where Hilda was delighted with
their quiet lodgings by the sea and Gerald
seemed benefited by the change. His wife
had regained all her old spirits, and be
loved to watch her as she sang her child tc
rest, with face as sanity as that of Mu-
rillo's Madonna at Rome in its indescriba-
bly, tender expression.
When after their meeting at Nice he tool
the baby in his arms, he smiled down al
her, "Margaret or Elina7" thinking that
she would wish to name it for her own
mother or his, but she csept half shyly to
his side and whispered, Neither" Oh
Hilda," he cried brightly, care you going
to let me name it2 have been longing to
give this darling little mite the name love
and honor most in the world"
81 think" she began, with strange hosi-
cot hot 7 how n
name-'
"Yes2 Tell me what 1t is," Gerald an
swered, half amused.
Felicia" she replied very low7
A glad emile shone In his eyes. "Then
you are happy" he cried. "Now and then
half doubted it. Sweetheart, you have
made me the happiest man in the world,
would rathor have had you call her Felicia,
than have the deer pleasure Of another Hill
da, but there is suoh a thing as middle
name, you know"
"Can you desire moro than feiicity2'
she questioned arohly. What could he dc
but kiss both treasures and be content2
They would spend the winter at Nice and
return to England in the spring, and mean
while they fingered on i'll Lorento, until
news of fever in the town hastened their
preparations to remove. Dusk found every.
thing packed and awaiting the early depart
ure proposed for the following morning,
but all through the night the beautiful baby
moaned aud tossed about, its sunny curls
tumbled around the flushed checks and
feverbright eyes, and ere morning dawned
the English doctor stood gravely above the
child and pronounced it to be serious case
Of the fever. ..-........ .........
s1s dangerous, - i,e said "a tho aRonized
young mother, "but 1t requires the greatest
care" In leaving he spoke to the nurse at
the door, II did not hide from your mis-
tress that her child is very i'll. Nothing can
prevent it from getting worse during the
day, but should the fever subsido tomorrow
it may live, though have little hope that il
will. l shall do all in my power, bat be pre-
pared to assist your mistress in the trial 10
come" And leaving the weeping woman,
the doctor went out to his work in the town
where fever and death walked hand in hand.
Thanks to his untirng energies the fever
abated noxt day, but the evening of the
third found the child spent In its struggles
for the little life that seemed so surely 60
ing. Through all the hours of suffering the
child moanod on for " Mama" with its tiny
arms outstretched upon that mothers
breast, or in the young fathers arms as he
vninly tried to soothe it to rest.
When the sun set low in great bars OF
crimson and gold across the blue waves OF
the Adriatic, the baby hands we're still, the
baby voice was silent, the dark -fringed lids
lay over the violet eyes, and the light shone
softly in upon the clustering curls, halo
of gold about the beautiful dead child as
soft and tender as the little life of year
that had ebbed out with the tide. Father
and mother knelt beside the qed, silent TO,
fear of waking their darling The doctor
glanced at the nurse and silently left the
room. The woman leaned over to smooth
tho coverlid for the last time, but her mis-
tress caught her hand with the breathlosa
whisper, "She is asleep"
"Oh, my dear madame, our lamb is
asleep in the Lords arms" she cried, and
turned away broken hearted.
Hilda stood for moment whito and atill
looking down upon the beautiful dead form
that had called her Mama only a few
short hours before, then with low despair
ing cry she fell fainting into the tende,
arms that waited at her side. DR.. Lane had
seen the young wife's courage and knew
that she would endeavor to control he1
grief when she had recovered from the
shock. He looked at the great hollow eyes
and sad. anxious face of the husband, and
decided that in his state of health it would
take very little to kill him. 4" He will no,
live to see Christmas" though. the doctor
" If l could get them to go home it woulc
be better for her when lie dies"
November was closing and still they lin.
gered ut Toronto, clinging closely together
with the memory of their recent loss anc
the thoaglst of their coming separation
shadowing even those dear hours OF CLOSE
communion. There was shadow deeper
than tears in the eyes of the lonely mother
"a pathetic, expectant look, Us if abe lis
tened and waited in vain for sweet, cooine
voice calling Mama;" but in Gerald
there was only peace, ns if he had heard hi:
baby's voice from the unseen shore ant
was obeying, only grieving for the wife ane
mother who would be left alone. When ht
cd so hard to stay that he consented, feel
ing that he would like to be laid to rest will
their dear little child. He wrote for hi