The Ohio Democrat. (Logan, O. [Ohio]) 1886-1906, 1888-12-01

"Y am only thirty-eigh and yet my hai
is almost snow-white," she mused, as sh'
laid aside her professional cap and brushed
out the still abundant locks. "And my fact
how haggard and old It looks tonight
Ah, well, it does not matter there is no ont
to care--no one to care" She dropped dowr
In chair and hid her face in her hands
and the tears fell through them In bitter
scalding drops. She was thinking Of Q
bright beautiful girlhood, q brilliant mar
riage, a happy wifehood of few brief
years. then of neglect, estrangement, doubt
treachery, despair, temptation, flight.
'1t was a great mistake, great mistake, "
she moaned; "though the devotion promised
me was given-though, while Count Dubois
lived, he was my slave and 1 his idol-it was
a terrible mistake Sin and happiness can
not walk hand in hand-it is one of Gods
sternest laws that they shall not be united.
Far better had borne my bitter lot In ST.
lence, and suffered my humiliation alone
with an unsullied soul There could have
been no lot more wretched than mine has
been during all these terrible years. Love,
devotion, wealth, excitement travel, as
sumed honors, what were they all to one
whose heart was tortured with remem-
brance Of lost Paradise, ruined
| name, wrecked life, o, it would have
| been better, far better, to have suffered and
| made no sign And where-oh, where to-
night Is he who brought all this ruin to n
life that was once happy and good! Is he
alive-and does he feel no remorse"
A quick rap sounded on the door.
The nurse started from her bitter reverie
and hastily brushed away the tears as she
opened the door,
One of the physicians stood before her.
"Pardon my disturbing you at this late
hour" he said, "but there has been an acci'
dent in the street; man has been thrown
out of carriage and badly injured, and we
|sneed q steady hand and calm nerve to assist
us. We can trust no one so well as you.
Come at once to the operating room"
The nurse hastily coilcd her hair, and, re-
placing her cap followed the physician to
the room Indicated
The injured man lay stretched upon the
table, barred to the waist, one crushed and
mangled arm hanging, mass of unsightly
flesh and broken projecting bones, at his
side. But he was perfectly conscious
When the nurse approached the table she
gave a low moan, and would have fallen had
not one of the physicians reached out pro-
tecting arm.
"You are overdone, overtaxed," he said.
II never knew you to be so affected at
sight of this kind. You must return to
your rooIn."
"No no." she answered, ~ am better
now. 1t is nothing-only the patient is
known to me. But hush-he may not rec
ognize melt is betterif he does not
But already the patients feverishly bril-
liant eyes were fixed upon the face of the
nurse with searching gaze. Then he spoke,
starting to an upright position.
"My God ~ ne cried, 'it is Clarice-Clar-
ice here-and with that hair!" Then he fell
back again.
The nurse was kneeling at his side.
"You must be quiet; you must not be
agtated," she said, calmly. "There is
dangerous operation to perform, and you
must not be excited"
There need be no operation" he said, in a
labored voice. "The crushed arm does not
trouble lies here in my chest.
There is some internal injury. l shall not
live many hours. 1t does not matter now.
| came to Europe to seek you, Clarice; l
could not live longer-I could not die-until
| had seen you and told you that 1t was all
a terrible mistake. l wronged you'll was
unkind but was never as you thought"
He ceased suddenly and put his hand
upon his chest He gave one long sigh and
and then he breathed no more.
''This man was friend of yoursp the
physician asked, turning to the nurse.
"Some one you had known"
HE was my husband" she answered.
They went out quietly, and left her alone
with her dead-alone with the irrevocable
past, the pitiless present, the hopeless fu-
ture.
There her husband lay, deaf to entreaty,
insistence or outcry. She had spoken no
word of forgiveness, had received none
death had come too quickly for this comfort |
TO be possible. She must live the rest of |
her days with regret and remorse as her |
constant companions. If she could only |
have known the peace of pardon from him |
whom she had wronged so deeply; but that |
could not be. All the ghosts of the past |
which had haunted her before must rise up |
now with tenfold power to torture her.
She krelt by her dead-all her own now, |
when too late-until the gray of the morn.
ing. Then she rose and walked to the win. |
low looking out at the dawn just beginning |
to redden in the east.
A faint CLEAN touched the white still face |
ike a benediction. Was he sorry for herr |
sho wondered. Did he love her now with the
,ld-time fondness before change had comet
Surely, it must be so. With the new day, a
new hope seemed born-she could believs
hat all might be well with them both.
in the eternal morning, forgive
ness and reconciliation awaited.
And, with this trust in her heart, she
inds peace lkneeling there beside her dead
Ella Wheeler WiIcsr, in Peterson's Magazine.