The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1889-08-17

I settled down over Miriam. She tottered
/ across the room and into the next, and with
clasped hands stood helplessly gazing down
on the beloved face on the pillow.
A light broke over the face as the fast
glazing eyes met her wild, yearning look,
and he beckoned her nearer. She leaned
over him fondly and kissed his brow where
the death damps were gathering and he
whispered: ''Bring baby to me, dearest"
Below stairs the nurse-girl was lull1ng
the child to rest with sweet cradle song.
He had been kept quiet all the long, dreary
day by strategy; coaxed with dainties and
amused with fairy stories unfolded to his
credulous mind by the nurse who loved to
revel in these pleasing fancies herself.
arthur wants the baby" said Miriam,
breaking in on the edge Of dreamland, and
clasping her boy with sudden tenacious
movement born Of grief.
The nurse resigned her sleepy charge
with frightened glance Of inquiry into the
white face Of her mistress. She needed nc
words to tell that at last the agony Of death
and parting had come. for the look on Miri-
ans face was plain Of in terpf { Ia cion
The mother bore away the little son, so
soon to become fatherless, and tho tender
! hearted nurse-girl, turning away, burst
into tears.
ooh! it must be an awful thing to die
! and leave ones frlends,'' she nloaneu to
herself, going about the room, picking up
mechanically the toys of little Arthur
which ii. his great glee at playing Aladdin
he had scattered about. Poor little one,''
nurmured she, his tender heart doesn't
understand it, and it is well enough it
doesn t."
| s'Kiss-" but tie lips failed to utter the
rest.
Love papa" said Miriam and the child,
putting his chubby face down caress1ngly,
kissed the pale, paternal lips. "My papa is
cold, so Cold" ne said, wonderingly looking
| up.
The attendant took him away then, at a
sign from the mother and kneeling by the
couch Miriam drew the death damp brow
to her breaking heart and pressed ,,sso;or:
ate kisses on the cold lips
| A look Of unutterab1e JOY c1e~s, -eal Chs
| features OF Arthur Fairfax, :slG ne said
half audibly: "Good-bye, Miriam, dearest;
watch over our boy, and-rneet n1e-''
''Yes, darling, with Gods help nloaned
Miriam; and she held ia her arms, not her
devoted husband, but clay-cold, mani
mate clay!
! They led her away also, then, away from
| her beloved dead. She sat do5v1a beside the
! sleeping, fatherless child, and throwing one
| arm over the unconscious boy moaned away
the night in a vigil of grief.
s'Wh y was this?' she asked Of ths mid
night silence. WHY should he be taken
| from her when they were SO prosperous
and happy, when every thing shat heart
could desire for comfort and domestic bliss
was theirs"
Little Arthur threw up his baby hands
! and m urmured ''loapa,'' and fretted in his
! slumber.
With mothers touch and caress Miriam
! soothed him to untroubled repose again. He
J was all she had now, and her hot hands
wandered over his silken curls strayjng
about on the pillow.
AL the next day she sat by ner beloved
dead, stunned with the awful sense vi Eee
bereavement. The servants went softly
about the house with sorrowf;sl faces, and
| the attendants came in ana went out of the
| room and she scarcely knewii. Twice they
brought little Arthur in the silent, dar;zened
room to see his papa, but the sight OF the
| two together she could not bear, so when
the baby leased ''to see what made papa
sleep so cold,'' they took him off in the gar
den and talked away his curiosity concern
ing the dead.
The last sad rites had been performed;
the solemn looking hearse, draped in black
Grape Topped with silver stars, had gone,
Arthur friends had gone nome, all but
Patty, the youngest sister, and Miriam sat
in her beautiful home widow,
| Patty would stay with her all the coming
dreary winter-she had promised as much,
and by the springtime she should know,
perhaps, what was best to do.
When the spring laughed merrily over
! H. :~1o
abroad for a month. Little Arthur's
! devoted mother held no sacrifice too
great for her child.
Miriam had her plans She would travel
little, and, in returning, would come
home by Hastings and, If she could, w9uld
venture on a visit to the Hall. Perhaps
her father might forgive her for the sake
of her beautiful, fatherless child.
! True, she had written him acquainting
| him of Arthur's death, and he had left the
servants to make the reply, and send COM
fort and sympathy; but he was old and
very strange, any way, and letter, after
all, was not like seeing them. Patty
thought it would work no harm to try
visit to HeatEerleigh, at least; she wished
to visit Beechwood once more, although
stranger hands had desecrated her favor
tie walks, no doubt.
| And Patty - blue eyed, kind-hearted
Patricia who made the best Of sisters
superintended it all, and left Miriam to
seek solace and comfort care free, and the
weary hearted mother felt she never could
be thankful enough for such a priceless
companion as dear little sister Patty.
Again, she sat by the window, in the
eventide, looking out over the cliffs and the
sea: again the death fiat had gone forth,
aud tine flower that grew between was
ruthlessly snapped from it's parent stem.
Patricia sat near her, dropping tears on
some broken toys she had treasured up
from the nursery. She could not weep
now; she was too desolate. God had seem
ingly forgotten her and left her without
ray of hope, without a single string on
loves harp unbroken. Away out in the
ofing she saw a white-winged ship, with
tint of sunset tingeing its sails the faintest
of rose hIues. That was, doubtless, the
messenger she had sent bearing long,
long letter to one whom she had never seen,
but the missive contained a request, never
! theless.
The tear-stained pages, when unfolded
at Bay View cottage, tucked down by the