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


now. The cheek bones had become prominent.
the lower part Of the face worn away almost to
nothing, the eyes enlarged in their hollow
caves. She looked as she had been said
to be-dying, except that the light in her eyes
spoke of secret force which might be fever,
or might be because they were the last
citadel of life. Bu3 though she looked at the
last extremity of existence, few efforts had
been made to ornament and adorn the dying
creature. efforts which added unspeakably, hor-
ribly to the CHASTITY look of her face. The collar
of her nightdress had been folded over a pink
ribbon, leaving bare an emaciated throat, round
which was little gold chain, suspending
locket; and her hair, still plentiful and pretty,
the one human decoration which does not fade,
was carefully dressed, though somewhat disor-
dered by the continual motion of her restless
ness. 1t was all horrible to Wentworth, death
masquerading in the poor, little vanties which
were SO unspeakably Llean and small in com
parison with that majesty; and all TO please him,
God help the forlorn creature to make her look
as when he had praised her prettlness, she from
whom every prettiness, every possibility OF pleas
ing had gone.
She held out her two hands which were worn
to skin and bone "Ch Oliver. my Oliver! ON |
knew he would come Oh, didn't say he would
comeP she cried Wentworth could not but
take the bony fingers into his own. Hesaw that
it was expected he should kiss her. bit that was
impossible. He sat down in the chair which
had been placed for him by the bedside.
Il am very sorry to see you SO i'll, my poor
girl" he said.
"Ill's not the word, Mr.. Wentworth, she's
dying She hasn't above an hour or two in this
world" said the mother, the woman who took
a mothers place
He gave her look of Mortified reproaeh, with
the usual human sense that it is cruel to an
nounce this fact too clearly II hope it is not
quite 80 bad as that"
Eyes, Oliver; OH dear Oliver, yes, yes" said
the sick woman '"This is-my last night-on
earth" She spoke with difficulty, pausing and
painting between the words, her thin lips dis
tended with smile. the smile the could not help
remembering that had always been little arti-
fcial poor girl, at her best But even at that
awful moment she was endeavorng to charm
him still the felt with horror) by the means
which she supposed to have charmed him in the
past
'Tell him, mother, tell him. l haven't GOT
the strength" She put out her hands for his
hand, which he could not refuse, though her
touch made him shlver, and lay looking at him,
smiling, with that awful attempt at fascination.
He covered his eyes with his disengaged hand.
half because of the horror in his soul, half that
he might not see her face.
Mr.. Wentworth said the elder woman, my
poor child, sir, she's got one last wish" the bony
hands closed upon his with feeble, yet anxious.
pressure as this was said.
''YeS. What is itg If it is anything L can do
for her tell me. will do anything that can pro-
cure her a moments pleasure" he said.
Fatal words to say but he meant them fully
ont OF pity FIRST and also out of burning desire,
at any cost. to get away. Anything for that.
He would have willingly given the bali of what
he possessed only to get away from this place
to return to the life he had left, to hear this
wOman'S name no more.
Once more the wasted hands pressed his, and
she gave little cry. II knowed it-always-
mother, told you"
Hush, hush, dear. Don't you wear yourself
out. You'll want all your strength. Mr.. Went
worth, | didn't expect no less from gentleman
like you Ii she hasn't been all she might have
been, poor dear, though don't want to blame
you sir, you're not the one as should say word,
for it was all out of love for you"
Wentworth had it not in him 70 be cruel but
he drew his hand almost forcibly from between
the girls feverish hands. What is the use of
entering into such question: he said. IL do
not blame her. Let the past alone. What can
do for her nowg
He had risen up, determined to make his es-
cape at all hazards; but the little cry she gave
had so much pain in it that his heart was
touched. He sat down again, and patted softly
the poor hand that lay On the coyerlet. My
poor girl, l don't want to hurt you," he said
you mustn't be harsh to her." said the
mother. How would yor like to think that
poor thing had gone miserable out of this world
to complain of you, sir, before the Throne2 Not
as she'd have the heart to do it, for she thinks
there Is no Ole like you, whatever you may say
to hcr. Mr.. Wentworth, there's Just one thing
you can do for her. Make an honest woman Of
her, sir, before she dies"
"Whatp said Wentworth springng once
more to his feet He but dimly vaguely under
stood what she meant, yet felt for moment as
if he had fallen into az ambush, as if he had
been trapped in den of thieves. He thought
he saw mans head appearing aJ the door, and
heard whisperings and footsteps the stairs.
This it was that produced the momentary fury
of his cry; but then he regained control of him
self, and looking round saw no one but the dying
girl on the bed, and the elderly woman stand
ing in front Of him, looking at him with depre
eating yet earnest eyes
sits great DEAL, said the woman, land yet
it's nothing Its what will never harm you
one way or another, what nobody will know, nor
be able to cast in your teeth-that won't cost
you anything Except maybe bit of feeE and
yet it's everything to her. 1t would make all the
difference between going out of this world hon
est and creditable and going in her shame
which it was you that brought her to it,"
THAT'S he," said Oliver Was it to be sup
posed that he could think of civility at such a
him. He got up and turned, half blinded with
horror and excitement, towards the door. II
am here, he said, 'because-because-
All, because-why? What could he say7 He
had meant to be kind-to make up to her. any
how, he could not tell how, for the fact that he
was happy and she dying. He stood arrested
with these words upon his lips, which he could
not say, half turned from her, facing the door,
as If he would have broken away.
And then there came low, despairing cry
from the bed, the cry as Of lost creature. "Oh,
Oliver, Oliver! you loved me once oh, don't
60 and leave me. You loved me, and / loved
you"
He would have cried out that it was false. but
the breathless voice, broken by painting that
seemed like the last struggle, the voice Of the
woman who was dying, while he was full of life
and force silenced him in spite of himself. The
mother had flown to her to raise her head, to
give her something from glass on the table,
and he too turned again awe-stricken, thinking
the last moment had come.
And you can stand and see her like this"
said the woman by the bedside in low tone.
"You that are we'll and strong and have the
world before you, and let her go out of it at FIVE
and twenty, a girl as you made an idol of once,
girl as you have helped to bring to this; and
won't lift finger to satisfy her before she dies,
to give her what she wants, and what will make
her happy for the last hour before she dies
The girl truly was past speech. She lay