Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-04-14
SELWYN'S DAUGHTERS.

SELW YN'S DAUGHTERS. John Selwyn was a strong man, but he had nliscalculated his strength. He reeled and caught at the chair, and for the moment there was no light in his eyes. He had asked for the truth, but merciful Father! For a space he covered his face with his hands, and the silence in the room was as the silence of death When he raised his head, there was no resignation in the agonized tones.
 ''How long beforen- the voice died in the parched throat.
 The great man looked at him pityingly, even his professional callousness penetrated.
 ''I am sorry to say, MT. Selwyn, that ! think the utmost limit is two years, but there is imminent danger within that period. Yes," he continued, profession trampling pity, Sit is more than possible that work would bring l on a crisis in less than a twelvemonth. l shall recommend an absolute cessation from labor as an imperative necessity"
 John Selwyn's tortured heart forced one terrible cry, and he arose and tottered to- ward the man who had told him his fate, with hands outstretched, in a helpless inn ploring fashion, as though the doom were al- ready upon him.
 ''Doctor doctor," he cried out, 'you have made a mistake. Say there was one hopeful symptom you have overlooked. Oh, God of mercy! I cannot have it true. Say you have only been trying my boasted endurance. I know it is bad, but I beseech you remember I have wife and children waiting for bread. Oh, I cannot have it true!'
 The surgeon put his cool, steady hand upon Selwyns shoulders. ''I am very sorry, sorry from my heart," he said, with genuine feel ing, "but it is God alone who can help you. nd f1,xrf To- t1,ai evitable"
 Mr. Selwyn struggled to regain his com posture. At length he uplifted gray face, held by an iron will in the semblance of calm. "I thank you," he said; the two men shook hands, and placing the fee upon the table, he strode out.
 How joyous, how care free, how heart lessly beautiful was the world without! The calm smiling sky with it's serene loveliness, the generous golden glory of the sunlight, the rare beauty of the flowers sent thrill of repugnant despair to his heart, and it cried out: 'sTorture yourself not by gazing upon what you are about to lose, for yet few months and the world will be waste to you" A few months, a few months, and he had counted upcn years! Merciful father, what were few months!
 All the long journey to his home he sat with unseeing eyes and bowed head, and when the cars stopped mechanically he arose and started for home, but as he hurried into the street he stopped. He could not carry his news to the loving hearts who had sent him away with such fond hopes but yester- morn How could he face his wife, his chil- dren, knowing he must stand helplessly and let them starve. He wandered around the streets, passing his appropriateness unheed- ingly, till the darkness fell. Then manhood o Faca tho irouita hIo Ro. member you are driving them wild with i anxiety"
 He entered his gate. The windows were uncurtained, the bright light displayed the 1 sheen of silver and china. He saw his wife's i fair face bent over Elsie and Frank, his 1 sweet lambs; Gertrude and Bryan were standing at the window watching for him. How he was to wiring their hearts As he | entered there was a joyous cry of relief, and they all rushed upon him with eager in- uuiries But his wife and Gertrude and Bryan, after one swift glance at his face, drawn and aged in spite of himself, turned 1 pale with fear
 Then the mother said: "Come, little ones, let papa have supper nows he is very tired. J
 It was a pretense with all save Elsie and Frank. As soon as the little ones were in bed Mrs. Selwyn returned to the sitting room. Gertrude was standing by her fathers chair and Bryan had her curly head upon his knee. No one was speaking. They had not dared | to question him.
 The wife came over to him. "Well?" she said in voice she vainly tried to steady.
 John Selwyn looked upon the eager faces he hated to give the death wound to their hopes, yet it was cruel to keep them in sus- pense. He rose and put his arm about his wite's shoulders "Ellen,' he answered, ''it :. +@ I~0 o1o1~, blind"
 They had steeled themselves, but it was moi in nature to repress that cry. Then there was silence while they strove to realize 1t Blind! helpless! her husband-whose eagle eye had foreseen every difficulty, whose strength had been her pride and glory Blind! helpless! that man rejoicing in the fulness of strong manhood, made even more } dependent than an infant Blindl helpless their father, who had been to them as an un con1uerable giant. Blind! helplessl whe1 they had reckoned upon him as an invincibl, bulwark Blind! terrible fate-worse thar death. They would not believe it.
 But John Selwyn assured them sadly tha it was true, and they turned to look upon tn future.
 "John," said the wife, ''I will be eyes ant hands and ears to you; when the worst come we will face it.'
 "And you need not trouble about money papa" said Gertrude stanchly. Bryan an' will earn all we want"
 He smiled sadly. Poor, inexperience' children, they knew little how hard it was t earn dollar. @ ''I must fulfill my contract with Whit comb," he said steadily, whatever betides There is not S1 ,000 we can call our own. W haven't been wasteful, but this job will giv me S75O, which will keep the wolf away
 little while. I ought to have laid up some thing, but I thought l had plenty of time
 must see you suffer from my neglect while
 am burden to you"
 "Oh, John," said the wife, "do not sa that.n
 "Papa!" cried tho girls in indignant
 :" A NTE1D