San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1889-01-28

berself too wretched 70 i've.
She was startled at Bob's voice in her ear.
81 say, Lucy, you look awfully lonesome
here"
"LonesomeF' she repeated; "what you call
data All, yes, seulel Yes, yes. 1t is to break
do heart to be lonesome"
"Well, it is hard; but when you can talk
English you won't mind, you know"
IL will talk English nevaire, nevaire" she
cried, raising her hands with a despairing
gesture at is too difficile. All, but my
tongue refuse to learn"
Bob laughed. Here was one inmate of the
family more wretchsd and more helpless than
himself
81 say, Lucy" he began, sheepishly. "You
didn't mind when hollered at you because
you wanted to help met You don't know my
ways yet, but I'd rather fall and break my
neck than have any one help me-"
She understood enough to know that he
was making kind Of apology for his rough
ness.
"Ah, moi" she cried, 81 don't mind notin if
you will me help to learn dat dreadful Eng
lish dat ties up my tongue"
"I'll do it" and the compact was sealed.
Lucille did not know that Bobs English was
the worst of its kind, for the Hart family
were Ignorant and had known little of
schools, but human interest was just then
what she was yearning for.
In her quiet, unobtrusive way, the girl
made herself useful to all the family. To
her aunt her ready, cheerful service was in
valuable, and even her uncle would shout for
"Lucy" when a button was wanted on his
shirts or a message must be sent to a neigh
boring farm. She was SO gentle, so courteous,
so unselflsh and ready to oblige, that house
hold which had known nothing of those
qualities before began to find them very nee
essary to their comfort.
As for Bob, he often wondered how he had
lived without his cousin, to interest him in
her bright stories Of foreign countries, to
beat up his pillows and battle his head when
he was i'll, and make herself a slave to his
sick whims. But much as Lucille had grown
into tho hearts of the Hart household, they
were not demonStrative, and in the next two
years her aunt had never caressed her, and
not even from Bob had she ever heard one
word of affection.
How the poor, sore little heart longed for
loving words and looksl How impossible to
her emotional French nature did it seem for
people to feel an affection they were neither
able nor willing to express! They did not
notice that the pale, thin girl became daily
| paler and thinner, and inconsistencies grew
fiercer and stronger in her heart Not so
much a longing for Dinard as for the loving
words and tender careeses Of her humble
| friends there.
There are tender, simple natures like
| Lucilles in the world, but, thank God,
they are few for their own sakes. Even
Lucilles dreams became troubled by
that cruel nostalgia which was consuming
her life. She would be back at Dinard, and
with the murmur of the waves would mix
the sweet, shrill voices of her companions, as
they sang the ronde;
Nous n irons plus au bois.
| Les lauriers sont coupes
Then she would wake up, her face wet with
tears and her bosom shaking with sobs But
one morning she did not wake to conscious
ness, and her aunt, going into the room,
found her muLtering in kind Of low delirlum.
Typhoid fever" the doctor said, land
there is no constitution to resist it,"
She faded slowly away, patient and quiet,
! with long intervals of consciousness, until
the end came She had fallen into a kind OF
stupor, apparently the coma which precedes
DEATH when she suddenly opened her eyes, to
see her aunt's face bending over her bathed
in tears. Bob was sobbing on his knees by
the bed and her uncle hard face was work.
| ing convulSlveIy.
40 Lucy, Lucy, don't leave US, my dearr
sobbed her aunt What shall we do with.
out your
She looked at them with surprise, and then
her pale lips parted In charming smile.
"You love me, you want me-" she cried
land did not knowl Kiss me, aunt, oh
kiss me oncer
Her aunt raised her head, and with that
farewell caress, the loving tender soul went
forth to find its kind
No one can say Lucille's life was lived
quite in vain, for Mrs. Hart became gentler
and more womanly because of it. As foE
Bob, poor Boil he never forgot his swest,
patient cousin, and he was a better and
worthier man for the lesson Of her ife.-M
B. Williams in The Youths Companion
MISS MADGE.