The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1889-12-04
INDIANA STATE SENTINEL WEDNESDAY DECEMBER

eudpctl UdUu 50 Perfectly THAT you NOuiu
have thought them silk; and you could
not, by any stretch of the Imagination,
think of her doing the mental labor that so
commonly falls to the lot of sisters of
charity. Not that there was anything
domineering in her manner; she was as
gentle as could be, and the whole town
loved her. But there was an air OF purity
and genuine devotion about her that made
her wholly removed from the ordinary
work of the world.
Sister," said l, "has anything hap
pened? Has any one Gomez
The two questions were asked rapidly,
and she answered as calmly as if she were
saying her prayers:
Juan, the poor Indian boy who was
hurt last week, died this morning, and two
new patients came last night"
did no one else come, sister,"
"No one"
''But thought saw a strange sister at
the door few minutes ago, and the face
reminded me of some one ! haveseen."
did you know that two new sisters
came here last week? Mother sent us
Sister Vincent and Sister Angela; she was
Felipa Rivera"
That was enough. / had seen Felipa
but she was now Sister Angela.
uAu lOJ lcll lnOuEn IL was
to write and not reveal what knew about
the person so dear to him. But l hoped
he had outlived his infatuation, and that
with the return to his old work and asso-
Citations a new attachment had been
formed for some one who would return
his love fully and freely.
My last letter from him came in Novem-
Der following. Then there was silence,
broken at length by letter from Mrs.
Bromwell. telling of Paurs serious illness.
/ feared the worst, but soon began to get
better reports, and early in January came
telegram stating that he and his mother
would be in Santa Fe on the 10th.
lOnged to tell them not to come, but had
no valid excuse for such action; and the
mountain air might save his life.
In the few conversations | had had with
Sister Angela, we had spoken but once of
Paul. She evidently believed l knew
nothing of what had occurred little over
two years before She told me of her
mothers death, said she felt her mission
TO be among her own people, and that In
no other way could she serve them so well
as in the hospital where so many OF them
constantly were. When | told her that
the Bromwells were coming, she seemed
not in the least moved, but before leaving
the room, she said:
'Mr. Cromwell doesn't know I am
here?" And on my answering in the mega
tive, she continued:
''Do not speak of it. Ny duties are in
another building"
Paul Bromwell was in Santa Fe Just
three weeks. lie never recovered from
the fatigue of the trip, and died on the
morning of the 3lst. There was no strug-
gle; he simply feel asleep. The doctors
had told us that the end might come at
any time. On going to nv room shortly
after this announcement. | met Sister An
gela in the hall, and to her inquiry, How
is Mr.. Bromwell? ' 1 answered: "He is,
perhaps, diving now" A sudden pain
seemed to dart across her beautiful face;
and when re-entered Paul's room found
her standing by the bedside. Mrs. Brom-
well did not observe that strange sister
had entered; or if she did, it seemed but
natural. The poor woman was too much
overcome with grief to take notice of a cir
cumstance so slight. Presently, as we
stood watching the shrunken form and
listening for the faint breathing, PauPs
eyes opened and looked at each of us in
turn with a peculiarly searching ex-
preston. a smile, faint and sweet, a sort
OF triumphant smile, passed across his
face as his eyes rested on the nun; and he
feel asleep in death. He had seen Felipa.
People said she did not love him. Ger
tain it is that her face was as calm and
serene as any that looked upon the hand
some features of Paul Bromwell, lying in
the sisters prim parlor that day. His
mother, broken-hearted, took home his
body, and apparently no trace remained
of his stay in the sleepy old town or of
the tragedy OF his heart.
That was years ago. Sister Angela still
lives, and goes about her humble duties
She is faded and thin, but beautiful still,
with the sweet sad smile of other days
l believe she loved Paul, and that nothing
but stern sense of duty led her to say
no. She felt the gulf between them, and
knew that it could never grow less. Her
religion, her people, her associations,
all were foreign to him. She could
not ask him to take a place among
surroundings so uncongenial, and,
according to his views, no dwarfing.
Nor could she ever find contentment in
the circles that were his element. So,
with the pious devotion of the Spaniard,
and especially of the catholic, she put self
on one side and did what her religion
seemed to demand.
This is my theory, and who shall say
that hers was q mistaken sense of duty?
Not the poor sufferers, who, lying on their
narrow cots, bless her as she moves quietly
about, tireless in her efforts TO ease their
pain. Nor could anyone look upon that
face and suspect that she for moment re-
GREETED her choice. Perfect peace is writ
ten there-the presence of a soul that has
found not only contentment but Joy in
doing for others.
Sometimes, when I think of Paul, feel
ing Of resentment toward Felipa rises in
me. His life, so full of promise, was des-
tined to be cruelty cut short; but her love
might have filled few short years with
Joy. A few short years at most, however;
then for her a long period OF sadness and
waiting. AS it is, she feels that she has
place in the worlds great work, and is
faithfully fulfilling her mission. And il, as
we dream, the souls that have loved here
are destined to be united in that other
world, believe the soul of Paul Bromwell
is waiting for its companion, the sweet
spirit of the catholic nun.
Hoover WATERS.