Idaho news. (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1887-1891, 1889-08-17

shoulder as he writes;
'sCan 1 ever be forgiven, Margaret. do
not know whether l shall ever see you
again or have power to seek you out when
this horror is over, but believe me- my
dear, have learned my lesson now, the
lesson You set me, of patient waiting for a
duty done
Then, in few vivid words he
sketched his mothers condition and the
circumstances which had detained him
until the closing in of the seige, and
ended with these words:
"But if we never meet again. believe, if
this reaches you, that we are welded now /;
that there is no thought or deed of yours in
the past sweet year hut honor and bless
with my whole heart to-day; that it has
been granted me TO stand where you have
$ God, and 10 see life and duty with your
dear eyes. You must have upbraided me,
must have sorrowed, as l sorrow now; and
yet l Enow and feel that even in this proba-
zion nave grown nearer to you and worth
| fer OF your trust | was most unworthy of
il in my selfish hardness and my blind ego
tlsm when l left you. But l have learned
my lesson, and for it, even though it part US
for weary months TO come, rejoice, for
feel and know that nothing can ever come
between us now
And yet, after he had sent the thin
slip of a note, par bdlioH monte, and had
speculated for the hundredth time as
to its chances-whether it should come
down in some thick forest and lie and
moulder there; or if strong wind
should carry it over the ocean, and it
should be swallowed up by the hungry
waves-he thought and said aloud.
''Presumptuous, am L? To take for
granted that Margaret has not long
ago shut me out. l thrust her out of
my life, and bolted the door OF the
brown house on all her hopes and
mine; why should / think that she
would still believe in me? Other men
have eyes as well as 1! 1t may be that
the next conner to Holme viii be only
too eager to snatch at the darling prize
threw away
And so on, until there was quite a
strong element of jealous uncertainty
added to the penitence that had made
the doctor lay bare his soul.
Very dreary were the days and the
long watches of the night were posi-
lively solemn in their dark blackness
and anxiety.
Mrs. Warren grew very feeble, but
still the strong habit of living kept up
in her from day to day; and as her son
saw the weeks go by, and
felt that his own strength was losing
with the close confinement and
the poor food he allowed himself, he
longed with all his heart for the city
to fall
And yet one could not be in Paris
and see, as he did sometimes as he
went out on hurried errand, or for
some supply of medicine, so difficult to
procure-one could not see the poor
fellows carried through the streets
shattered and wounded, without long
ing to be at some more stirring work
than the slow watch by the bedside.
Could he but have taken his place in
the hospital, worked among the
wounded, he would have found some
relief from the wearing thoughts that
haunted him now.
But he was learning the patient
lesson, so hard for man Of his tenn
permanent, and harder still that no word
of appreciation or of love came ever
from his mothers lips. A dull look OF
vacancy, in the handsome dark face he
remembered so well. and the hanging
lip Of her once proud mouth, were all
that met his question or his glance.
1t was hard, very hard, to boar; not
consistent, perhaps, with all those long
years OF separation, in which they had
led such estranged and far-apart lives.
But her son tried to comfort himself
with the thought that it was the stony
hand of the disease that was slowly
crushing out all interest in the outer
world, and driving back the feeble
thought to the vacancy within.
But alone the purple gown was mat.
ter of interest and anxiety. Though
worn thread-bare, it was still thrown
over her shoulders, each morning, anC
her one feeble hand strayed among the
folds, until it found the thick little
packet, sewed fast among them,
months before, by her own fingers
almost the last exercise OF their skill
1t was Christmas Eve, a Christmas
to be remembered! The earth lay
bound with black, iron frost, and il
was bitter cold.
To the horror OF the scanty supply
of food-and George Warren bad not
ventured to ask for weeks by what
name the bouiltion went that formed
his daily meal at the cheap restaurant
Ito this was added now new dis.
tress, the scarcity of fuel!
The lofty apartment in the Rue
Malesherbes had been rendered as
snug as possible by folding screen
that. inclosed the invalid's couch by
the fire; but now that there was moth
ing but green wood to burn, and but a
short supply Of that, the chill hearth
gave out more smoke than heat, and
the time seemed coming when even
these high priced and precious fagots
could be had no longer.
This was privation of which the
doctor had not dreamed, with all his
anxious forecasting of the future, and
he shivered as he piled up shawls and
afghans on his mothers sofa.
1t was growing dark; the short
| wintar twilight was Glazing In