, 1888-11-16
UNBIDDEN GUESTS.
No. 10 - SQUARE,

N'As ~ Nal NOu III AO"h hIN 9hhg q
pair OF days" with me2 You see | am at
the dear old place in - square. Yours
always, .
OF course l went, for l would have gone
anywhere and left anything at the Bid
ding of the dearest woman friend | ever
had. 1t was unusually not weather for
May, and whether it was the change from
country to town or what it was that in.
duced one of my violent attacks | never
knew, but i'll | was and alarmingly so for
a few hours; the doctor gave me Il hypo.
dermic of morphine.
slept for hours, a quiet peaceful sleep
that was partly induced by the morphine
and partly by the exhaustion of physical
suffering.
When / awoke, gradually coming to a
realization of what had happened and
where ! was, | felt too happy to want
anything beyond the enjoyment of my
present state of bien-etre; before going
further | must explain my whereabouts.
My friend, in renting her fine old man
sion for n fashionable boarding house,
had reserved for her own use the several
rooms Immediately behind the large
drawing room; the first of these, cut off
from the drawing room by wide folding
doors ald heavy curtains, she used as u
library, work room, etc, and here l was
installed, upon a sofa bed; back of this
again was her own bedroom, with dress.
ing closet, etc, attached, thus making an
extremely comfortable apartment.
With my waking came a sort of half
dreamy remembrance of a patient, loving
watcher near my bedside; l turned my
eyes-I was far too comfortable to move
any part of me-toward the armchair in
which she had been sitting it was
vacant, and / understood at once that
she had gone to bed satisfied about Inc.
and | could also see that She had left
open the double door into her own room,
so that my slightest call would rouse her.
must have slept again after that, for
seemed to waken, all at once to the con
seriousness of some one near me, and !
knew also that it was near morning. |
looked toward the armchair, and seeing
some one sitting there l called, ''Nanniel'
She made no reply. l spoke again n little
louder, 'Nanniel' No reply, no move
ment to show that she had heard me. |
looked with closer attention in the dim
light, and then | saw that it was not Nan
ME, but a stranger, n person whom | had
never seen. and yet there was something
in the look of her that was not wholly
unfamiliar, I thought. She sat with her
face turned partly toward me, her eyes
looking straight before her with a sad,
earnest gaze that called for my sympathy
for her trouble, whatever it might be; in
deed, the whole expression of her lovely
face was extremely sad. almost thought
she had been weeping. Her hands were
folded on her lap, and her attitude as she
lay back in the old fashioned chair spoke
of the deepest dependency. There was
light enough for me to see that she was
very beautiful, and although | wondered
greatly who she might be yet did not
at all wonde that she should be there.
Presently the light seemed TO, or rather
lit did, grow brighter, and involuntarily
turned my eyes toward the large folding
doors. shaded by heavy curtains. They
We're gonel and | looked away through thu
length of the drawing room to the front
windows, heavily hung with lace and
damask of old time; the light had becom >
sufficiently distinct for me to see clearly
to the farthest corner. Now, too, | could
note every particular of the appearance of
my lovely visitor. saw that she was of
medium height and exquisitely formed;
that she was fair, with yellow gold hair,
which was worn in light coils over her
broad, rather low forehead, and gathered
up and tied with a ribbon at the back OF
her proudly set head; delicate, filmy lace
yelled the white, full throat, and fell ovei
the round fairness of her arms, bare from
the elbows, and the pale green of her ricl
silk gown showed the pure p~aleness OF
her lovely skin. | gazed at her with dc
light, she was so fair.
Suddenly | saw a new look come in hcl
sea blue eyes, rs of greeting, perhaps OF
welcome, and | followed the look and
saw, entering the drawing room, a young
man in nav undress; as the door was
closed behind him she rose and approached
him quickly. Laying her hands in his
held out to take them, a look of sucE
lpyp was In HE Iarlr nrDtI nyac oa II.
bent over the pretty hands and KISSED
them lingeringly; then, still standing be
fore her, with her hands held close in his
he talked very earnestly to her. and
knew from his manner that the younl
sailor was begging for something in he
power 10 grant, some gracious thing tina
was to be as the gift of life to him, som,
tender word or promise that might keel
his heart warm and light with hope dur
ing weary months of absence. She wep
and smiled on him through her tears an,
left her hands in his. while love rained OF
her from his dark eyes that shoe abov,
her, but l could see that she would no
give him What he sought. Then IN,
heart grew very tender over the man
great sorrow, and then, although | hear
no word nor sound of voice, | yet in SON
strange way knew what he was saying t
her. when at last he cried p~assionately:
And this is all? You will give m
only this? Naught but words like thes
10 keep my heart in storm and darkness
and in-perhaps the fight unto death
b a are all in my way Oh, my love. III.
Lowell Only this! Well. all the saint
keep thee, my one love, and when, if
come back, theni All, them
The grand, proud look came back an
shone in his dark face, and with a sudde,
movement he snatched her to him. lai
one kiss on her sweet trembling lips an
hurried from the room.
As the heavy door closed upon him tn
fair girl, weeping bitterly, stretched on
her pretty hands after him and seemed [
call to him to come back to her. Sh
could not Let him go. She would gran