Butte semi-weekly miner. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1886-1890, 1886-12-15
ALMOST "A TRAGEDY.


ALMOST A TRAGEDY.
A Shot Which Brought . Bride.
We had quarreied, Millicent and l. an
1t was no slight lovers quarrel to +
easily forgotten. We had each said thins
that could not be unsaid, and done thine
that could not be undone. and she ha
gwen me back the letters had sent he
and the ring that she had worn and a
those little presents that every man la,
ishes ON the woman he loves. 1t was a,
over and we were free again. and tried T.
believe that it was better so, but coul,
not.
Poor little Millicent her lace was ver,
SAD and her eyes very heavy when
CHANGED to meet her; but ste has told m
that she had hated me as much as she ha,
once loved me, and so tried to look merr,
and unconcerned al passed her, and 90
up a filtration with red haired Lucy Mar
tin, and she was seen about with her a poot
deal.
Her father had made good deal O
/ money, and she was an heiress. and yer,
much sought after, and all that sort o
thing. If had been the kind of man wht
marries for money l might have tried te
win the prize, perhaps; for after a real
honest love affair has come to an untimely
end, either man or woman is just ripe fol
something wrong in that line.
wasn't bad enough for that, but was
bad enough to flirt abominably with very
decent young woman who fancied that
meant everything and was pleasantly frank
with me in consequence. and a report even
arose that was engaged to her. ] liked it,
for knew that Millicent must hear it.
OF course, when heard that she was en-
gagged to Tom Brown I was not pleased. I
had not sworn myself to celibacy, but it
seemed to me, in q measure, Millicent's
duty to do SO. And here she was at the
opera, with fan, opera-glass, bouquet AMI
attendant adorer, as if nothing had hap
pened.
sat in the next row with Miss Martin,
and looked into her eyes and whispered
compliments in a terrific sort OF way,
considering that had no intentions what
ever. All, well! she was a practical girl,
not romantic.
felt glad when the season was gone and
summer sent society" flying to the woods
and glens and waterfalls. l did not seek
the usual resort. l went to a wild, out-of-
the-way place and fished persistently. l
did some shooting. too, and formed a
a friendship with a certain Mr.. Briggs. who
was fond of sport, SO he said, though l
never knew him to catch a fish or to shoot
anything whatever.
No one knew whero [ was. knew moth
ing OF the whereabouts OF any of my ac-
quaintances. There we're q few ladies at
the hotel, principally invalids.
1 anticipated no unpleasant meetings
with people who would want to known
why Milly and I parted. And fancy my
-:.l,, ovI vho
ing, as took my seat at the table, l saw,
straight opposite me, little, pale shadow,
which I recognized as all that was left of
Millicent Hood.
made short meal that day, and re-
solved to leave the place by the morning
train. Unfortunately I oversight myself.
Wait minute-was it unfortunately? 1t
seemed so to me for good while. missed
the stage, at all events. There was no
other way of reaching the cars and went
out to spend the whole September day
with Briggs and our guns. There was an
evening stage also. I intended to go down
on that.
Out in the woods, and having purposely
loet sight of my companion for little
while, 1 sat down at the foot of a tree and
fell to thinking of Millicent. Poor little
pirl!-how worn she was did she? But
no-nos-she had deelsrsasshe hated me. ]
sighed and rested my head against the old
tree. In a moment more-crack, crack,
crack a terrible pain through my head. A
cry of "Ob, Lord! l thought you were q
squirrel" and l was dimly conscious that
Briggs had hit something at last.
He had hit me. :,
came to myself. after weeks fever and
delirium, quite blind. My eyes were I'M
touched, but the nerves had been somehow
injured. There was something horrible IN
the surgeons vague promises OF improve
ment in time, and all l could say to the
penitent Briggs was, "Why didn't you hit
a Wit al spot while you were about it?"
One day had q terrible longing for fresh
air. and as there could be no reason Tor
keepiug me indoors, ordered my nurse, an
old cofored man, to set a chair for me in
some lonely spot where strangers would
not be apt to spy me out. He did SO.
There was a little nook which knew well,
where no one save some rural fisher ever
came. Here bade him leave me and re-
turn in an hour. He obeyed.
/ sat alone, wrapped in sad reflection,
wondering what l should DO with my lie
il we're indeed blind forever. ,..,,.
"Ah," I thought to myself, were MILL
cent, INV wife l should have one who would
love me even now; one on whose truthiut
bosom could rest my weary head"
"Millicentp' whispered softly. "Milli-
cent! Millicent"
The name brought back such sweet recoi,
lections. rested my head upon my hand
and INDUCED in them until, being still weak
sleep overcame me.
Then dreamed OF her.
We were together in a beautiful spot. .and
NV arms were about her, and her kisses
were on my lips.
How vivid my dream was.
Twas awake. but felt the Kiss stli'; an
shoulder. r.Inyoluntarily / strove to clasp it
in NV own. Then, then l knew it was no
DEAN. A hand was there. 1t did not re,
s;st mine-a little, trembling woman hano
soft and warm and sweet-M:llicent's OWL
5oor hand knew before / drew her te
otis my little one" 1 said. "spe ak &c
me: cannot see you"
II know I ought not to be here, ''she sob
bed. s'but II could not help It; an
sorrv-so very, very sorry Tor you. ,,.u:
"Then you've got over hating me- MILL
cent" said.
~ never hated you.' said she. Il onl!
said So. But there; IL didn,t mean ' yo'
should know I was here. thousuU ~,
were asleep, and l suppose it Is very wron
~s 10 and Miss Martin will be justly All
gry." v .;a "You didn'
,o,;ave that story. The poor blind fellow
oo" oemess see before you would havelittle chanc
yh yv;th M;ss Martin, even if he wanted her
snd rt1 he % don't. But beg your pardon Mis-
Millicent; 1 ought not to hold your 2, nam
90 long. Mr.. Brown might object.
"Oh, don't, Harry" said She 80 - can an
be proud any longer 1hat now Won are ra not Ter er
DIN Dru%n+ +o Miss Martin. Put your arr
s1esu ssrennd me again, darling, and please io'
give me-" a;,+;or af "some in
@ was fulfilled. could Gee
pfyVa peIl as ever on my wedding day, but ,a :
never s"a ,nv darkness and gave me back tn
iove v should not then have dared %ors TO as d
ior. Nor can there be q momeps to,t tio her ,;r r.