The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1889-05-10

eagerly, telling her Of how the stranger came
to them few weeks before, and how ho had
fallen Ill and could do no work, and thew
We're too poor to help him, and so he grew
worse and worse, and tonight seemed as If
almost dead, aud there was no one in the
house but himself, for all had gone to the
last night of the carnival, and he had been
asked to go also but did not like to
leave tho stranger alone he had been
kind to him once, and it seemed shame to
leave him dying, and no one ut hand to give
him even draught of water did he need it.
Ere the story was finished they stopped
before a broken stairway in the side of a
dreary tumble-down looking house that
seemed to ruined for habitation. sIs it
here?" asked Genna, in wonder, as her guide
pau sed.
eyes," tho child answered. ani ran lightly
on boioro her and led the way. She followed
mechanically, scarcely knowing what she did
tn the misery that held and tho pain that
supplied her.
He pushed opened a door--beyond 1t W.,
o square dingy room, made more dingy and
desolate by the dull yellow glare OF an oil
lamp that was its only light. 1t seemed to
hold but two things narrow pallet in the
furthest corner and two wooden trestles
close to tho window, on which canvas was
outstretched. At sight Of that Genna started
and grew deadly pale. Her eyes turned
eagerly to tho motionlcss flgure-a hope that
was half dread, half joy, swept over her heart,
and held her for a moment spellbound. Then
she crossed the room and seized the lamp.
and held it close to his face, while the siGkly
glare lit up the senseless eyes, the hard
hollow cheeks, the changed and striken
beauty of the man whom she had last seen
on the hillside slopes of Giovol.
ehe knew him at once. No change, how
ever ghastly, could deceive eyes so fonda
love so true rs hers. She knew him, and,
knowing him, fell down on her knees at his
side, her heart beating with the wild music
OF recovered joy, her great dread slenced by
her greater passion. She crouched there,
scarce daring to breathe, while the lamps
dying rays struggled amidst the gloom, and
the pale sickly light of dawn cleaned through
the unshuttered windows. She touched his
hand-it was cold rs death. She glanced
round, there was no fire. in the empty stove,
the window-panes were broken and the cold
evening air swept in and chilled even her
strong frame as she knelt there. She glanced
at the child
"Go and fetch some charcoal and wood, !"
she said hurriedy: "and see, here is money,
buy wine and bread too. Make what haste
you can for PHYS sake"
81 will be as quick as bird" he said
eagerly, and flew down the broken jagged
stairs and out into the street, while she knelt
there alone, chatting his hands between her
warm rough palms, murmuring incoherent
tender words born of the great love her
heart had so long held, her greatjo that she
had found him, even thus.
When the child returned she lit the fire
and warmed some wine, and gently tried to
force q few drops between his clinched teeth.
Al first he could not swallow, but her pa
tience brought success. Every half hour
she gave him little. She drew off her own
warm woolen petticoat and covered his
frozen limbs. She watched him with untiring
patience all through tho long silent hours,
during which the mute suffering OF stupor
was broken only by incoherent speech.
He was very ill dying of starvation, mis-.
cry, cold-here in great and populous city;
here, where the gold that her sister squan.
dered on a toy to amuse, n jewel to adorn
her. would have bought him life and health
The night went by. An old crone looked
in once and asked her if she was friend of
his,
"He has not been hero long," she said. 81
think myself he was mad. I have seen him
sit for hours there before that great canvas,
muttering ever and anon, doing nothing
ever and then when his money failed and
he grew i'll and woak, there he lay as you
see him now. l have done what I could,
though many would not have given him
house-room, seeing he had fever, and was
poorer even than I, and can never give me a
copper coin in payment"
"You were very good" murmured Genna.
"The Madonna will bless you for your char
ity."
'Goodr' said the woman. "No not that
I was tempted often TO turn him out, or
leave him TO end his life there 1t must come
to that ere long, but somehow had not the
heart to do it. 1t cannot last much longer,
though-he will die very soon."
"Oh, hush p walled Genna, as she threw
herself beside the stricken figure and held
the cold, thin hand to her warm, beating
heart.
The woman nodded slowly and wont away,
closing the door and muttering to herself.
"a sweetheart, no doubt Well, l hope she
has something with which to pay mo. She
looks well off, at all events. But she is fool
ish to waste money on one as good as dead.
Better bestow it upon the living"
Tho long slow day rolled on, Genna never
left her post. Toward evening he grew
quieter. The incohcrent words no longer
followed each other in monotonous sem
tences. He fell asleep, and slept deep,
dreamless slumber that was good to see.
Then only she left his side and crossed
over to the window and gazed eagerly at the
great picture stretched there in the gloom
and darkness Of tho desolate chamber. 1t
was the painting he had spoken of.
She saw the long stretch of hills with the
sunlight falling like molten gold On their
crests.
She saw the long procession of priests and
people, and swaying censers and waving ban
ners and singing children; then All, what
was this! Across tho two central figures of
the procession was long black smear, which
completely obliterated their faces.
She knew in moment what it was. Nita
had spoilt her own likeness ard Genna's at
the very moment when the picture was COM