St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1886-08-26

az will write,n he said. "Stay-come
to my little Office with me. We shall
be quiet, and let me think. A woman
can tell the story better than l, espe-
cially as it is touching and not quite
true. / have a nurse here now who
can break the news tenderly, l believe,
if any one can. She has waited on you
for day or two, saying very little. |
forbade that. But her hands are soft,
her touch kind, think"
"God bless her She is as gentle as
a MOTHER" said. eyes, let her write
the letter.
He took my hand and led me to the
room he called his office. Then he left
me a moment, and when he returned
heard the rustic of woman's garments
following him.
"This is the nurse who will write
the letter." he Said.
"I thank her." said I. "Be gentle,
madame; my Bettina has a gentle
heart"
"What shall l write 2" she asked, al
most in whisper.
"Write that l am dead" 1 said.
"Write that l loved her to the last.
Write that l babe you tell her when
her grief had passed to wed another
and be happy"
"Happy and you deadl" she said.
"And she loves yOu"
"Madam," said 1 "we have pro-
verb in our country that the dead
trouble is better than living one. A
blind beggar whom she loved, and who
hOpelessly loved her, would be heavier
on Bettina's life than the memory of
her dead Bel nard. l can do little now,
but can do this. Write, madam"
The pen moved over the paper.
Soon she said:
81 have written. Shall 1 read it to
you?"
1 answered: eyes if you will ma
dame.n.
She began "Die, unhappy girl !!
Your Bernard has persisted. What is
life to you any lOnger2 He is dead.
Had he lived, blind or MANNED, or
helpless in any way, there would be
hope for you. You could fly to him !;
you could comfort him; you could toll
for him you could be his sunlight.
Alas no such joy awaits you. He is
gone. He is no longer anywhere where
you can find him. Lie down and die.
This is all that You can do. He is
dead"
She ended in a food of tears.
started to my feet.
"Why do you write thus ?" | cried.
"Who are you? How did you come
by that voice? Speak"
Then | felt two little hands steal
about my neck and wet cheek touch
mine, and whisper came:
Bernard, it is L. Did you not
guess Do you not know your own
Bettina 2"
She clasped me closer. l heard the
door close the doctor was gone.
'EThe good DOCTOR" she said. "The
first day of your illness he found a let
ter you had begun to me, and sent it
with word of your misfortune, and a
letter to one who could bring me to
you if l desired to come. All, God
bless him he knew a wOman's heart
better than you did"
"When that letter came my dear old
grandparents were lying dead. L only
stayed to look upon their graves before
| came to you.
''You were so feeble that he dared
not let me tell you who | was at first.
To-day you were to know. All, Ber
nard, to-day, when you would have
written to me that you were dead.
Bernard, how could you do it ? How
could you use me so y"
cit would have been best for YOU"
| said.
But she clasped me closer.
My life has been a dark one ever
since, but Bettina's hand has led me
day by day, and the good doctors
kindness has been shown to us in
teaching me such work as l can do. |
shall never see the sweet face that |
remember so well. But l know its
beauty and it's goodness and the love-
light in the eyes too we'll to forget
them. And l know that am dearer
to her for my misfortune. and am