Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1889-10-25
SISTER MILLICENT.

DlSttT llllllCtll llNtu All dIOllc Ill Il
curious stone house on the outskirts OF
poor little village She had come to
inhabit it some thirty years before,
and since then no one had seen her
face, for the reason that she wore upon
it black silk mask trimmed with
lace, which revealed only a par of
large, dark eyes. For the rest her
dress was something like that of a
lun, straight and black. with bonnet
and veil when she went abroad, and
within doors a sort of cap that con
cealed both head and throat. No one
ever heard her whole name. On her
arrival she held an interview with the
two clergymen of the place. and told
them her story, which neither of them
could be induced to reveal in detail.
However, it was said by many that
she was an unhappy wife. into whose
face jealous mistress had thrown
vitrol, distiguring her for life
She was rich, and had expressed
her wish to assist the poor of the
place with her money, to nurse the
sick and to perform all the duties of a
Sister of Charity to those who suffered.
whatever their religion, whatever
their condition, without asking if they
were worthy or unworthy.
At her door hung a little box into
which letters might be slipped asking
for aid In her house was a little room
where she received all who desired to
talk with her. She had store of sim
pie remedies which she used in minor
cases; in others she sent for good doc
tors. No one ever appealed to her in
vain. For thirty years she had been
looked upon as saint or an angel
rather than as human women, and
still she continued her deeds of char
lty. of self remuneration, without ever
giving any symptoms of WEAKNESS of
mind or body, though it was supposed
that she must by this time have arriv-
ed upon the borders of old age.
1t was late i'll the afternoon of a cold
autumn day when the wind was hard
at work sweeping the last leaves from
the great oaks that stood before Sister
Millicent's little house, that a knock
sounded upon the door-a tremulous
blow. that seemed to the good woman S
experienced ear to speak of an aching
heart. fastening to open it she saw
before her lady in fashionable trav-
cling dress, who fell into her arms.
"Marion!" she cried, can it be Ma
rionl'
Yes, Aunt Millicent, it is l, sighed
the young lady, and have come to
you in great and terrible grief. You
who are so merciful to stran gers will
comfort me. | know You told me to
come to you if ever needed friend
i need one now"
Sister Millicent replied by taking
her hand in hers
What has befallen youl" she ask
ed. You do not wear the garb of
widOwhood
Il am not widow" said the lady.
bursting into tears, but my husband
has deserted me; he has gone away
with another woman.
Charles Auchester, then. is not bet
ter than other men," said Sister Mill
cent, sadly.
We were very happy" sobbed the
poor wife, until she came"
She always comes,' sighed Sister
Millicent.
She was a singer. bold. bad wo-
man, with splendid voice. The
elopement is the talk of the town. "
SAID Marion Auchester. He left me
well provided for, with a fine house
and a good income Of my own, but |
refuse to accept his money | will not
inhabit his house."
You are right" said Sister Mill
cent.
My friends advise me to get di-
vorce," said Marion, but | am his
wife, though he has wronged me.
to hin, /
the pity, the curiosity of the people |
have known under other circum-
stances. | ran away from them like a
thief in the night. Had parents or
children, | could not have done this,
of course, but | stand alone in the
world. Will you take me in and let
me live with youl | will do as you
bid. | will keep your house, help you
nurse your patients, teach the poor
children-anything, if you will but
hide me here. You are my only rela-
tive. | know your story; we can now
sympathize with each other.
My home is yours, "said Sister Mil
icent, land am glad in my old age
to find one who will help me in my
work and solace me in my solitude. d"
From this time on the poor of the
village began to see that Sister Mill
cent had companion, a young wo-
man who did not veil her sweet, sad
face, or cover her bright hair, but who
otherwise wore the same black garb,
and who was her assistant in all her
labors. For more than a year they
worked together, their tall, slender fig
ures moving side by side down the vii
lage street with the same graceful
step, SO much alike in general effect
that those who saw them could but be-
lieve that Sister Millicent had once
resembled Sister Marion in feature.
And great was the grief of the poor
when one morning the cottage was
closed against all but the ply sician,
and it was known that some sudden
illness had befallen one of those good
ladies'"
A few days later the doors of the
cottage opened. A small funeral pro
cession emerged therefrom, and a
burial took place in the graveyard.