Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1890-07-12

only cared Tor his thoughts of her-to
just think of me now and then, and so l
want to give you something. hook or
sketch, which has been mine, that will re-
mind you sometimes for a moment"
She looked at his face with sudden
terror lest her words should have told any
hint of her secret to him Obi how she
loved him. The full sense of all her love
seemed to crowd on her at that moment
with shame lest he should read it. She
wished she had never asked him this.
'sIf you willr' he said. 81 shall value
it-you do not know how dearly. But l
should not need il to remember you; you
cannot think that"
THANK you," she answered. She gave
him her hand with a quick impulse she
regretted the moment after; he put it to
his lips, hot tear fell on it, which Helen
started to feel.
"He did care little" she thought as
she laid her tired head on its pillow that
night, "and he will not quite forget me
always"
Helen was asleep when Mr. Beatoun
called two days later, and she did not see
him again through the dark December
days. If she had known the truth, she
would have learned he longed to come.
but did not, for fear she should think he
misinterpreted her request. He wondered
once, indeed, if this girl, whom he had al
was liked, but who had never till the other
night made his pulses beat more quickly,
had given him any thought of her heart.
The very frankness of her wish proved her
innocent and worthy of far better love
than his; had he unwittingly done her
the wrong of teaching her to care for
him? He was not worth the love of
girl like her, he thought, but he knew
that women give their love generously as
the dew, without thinking if that which
it rests on be fit for such treasure If she
had, he had been fool; an impulse seized
him to seek her and ask her if even now
1t were too late, and then he told himself
that it would be an insult TO her conf
dence in him to let this be the end. to
read her wish thus. But if she cared for
him, why was her feeling for him only to
work her pain? If Helen had met him
in another world, where spirits can read
each others eyes, he would have known
that her love had been the dearest treas.
ure of her life, and that she would have
answered with Donatello when Miriam
asked him what he had gained worth his
lost riches of happiness and careless free
dom from thought, This burning pain in
my heart, for you are in the midst of it."
Through December HeIen's strength
failed suddenly and rapidly, and She
nerved herself TO the accomplishment of
her wish, feeling that any day might find
her without the power to carry ii out I'M
aided and alone. Christmas Eve had come,
the quiet afternoon was stealing into dusk,
and the gas lamps shone outside through
the misty freshness of the air, as Helen,
leaning back on the sofa, laid down her
pen on the table near her with a sigh of
fatigue. Mrs. Fawcett had gone out for
short drive al her daughters earnest per-
suasion; she seldom left Helen now, seeing,
as she did, how the girls face had grown
strange of late even to her, her mother,
who knew and loved it well. Helen had
chosen her brief solitude to write the note
which accompanied small brown paper
package:
Dear Mr. Beatoan: I ssk you and others of my
friends to keep a small thing which nicht
bring me now and then to remembrance, and
don't know how much longer have to live-it
can only be very short time-so | send i. now
as CHRISTMAS present, greeting and good.
bye Sincerely yours, HELEN FAwCErT.
She folded and inclosed it. then sud-
denly her head dropped on her hands
with one long sob.
The longing she had had to do this
thing was appeased her prayer to Love,
her lord, was granted, yet she could not
say "Nunc dimittis." Suddenly all her
young life, grown so feeble, seemed to
gather itself into one passionate struggle
against that cold tide of death, creeping
up ever higher round her to drag her down
from the life which was his whom she
loved, which would still be his when she
was dead. If she could have done him
ever so little good, it would have been less
hard to die, but her love had been vain
and useless, as useless as her life Out of
the deeps of her love and her pain and
the awful shadow of death, there had
come that pitiful cry not to be wholly for
gotten when she was dead, which had
found expression in her poor little gift to
Paul Beasoun. Out of the deeps now
came the impotent voice pleading for help
where help there could be none, but from
that darkness and that loneliness of agony
was uttered also tenderer and intenser
desire-"Oh, that he shall be happy, that
his life shall be sweet and noble to the
The cold, short note she had written to
Mr.. Beatoun showed nothing of this, any
more than it said the framed sketch sent
with it was the one on which Helen's eyes
had best loved to dwell, SO that she liked
to think his would rest on it, or that it
told the unuttered thought, ';sWilI he come
here to say he has had it? do want to
see him once more, only once more"
The days dragged on, but brought no
answer. Mrs. Fawcett knew nothing of her
childs Christmas gift; she never learned
of the weary, wistful waiting OF those
days. of the question which filled the girls
heart, "Has he guessed and despises me, so
that he will not answerf
She struggled to appear better than she
was, in the dread of not being able to see
him if he came, but the poor effort had to
be given up, and she could no longer come
down stairs, and the rooms which had once
been so bright with her presence seemed to
her mother silent and lonely with the
silence of death itself, knowing, as she did
too surely, Helen would never enter them
again.
There was this dreariness lingering over
the whole house this evening, the last of
the year, as Mrs Fawcett went up to
Helen's room, where the girl lay, strange
shining in her eyes, fixed color on her
cheeks.
81 don't like to leave you, DEAR" Mrs.
Fawcett said, ''but would you miss me if
| go round to the evening service? l shall
only be half an hour"
do 60" the girl answered family.
"Pray for happy new year, dear-for us
all"
The mother could not speak, the chok-
ing tears were too near her eyes; she only
bent down to kiss the thin cheek.
So Helen was left alone, her eyes gazing
into the red depths of the fire, an aching
passionate bitterness of regret and shame
in her heart. Why had he never an
swered? Had he read the reason of her
request? that the reason she wished him
NJ held bar rnamorv was that sha lavad