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

!; more restless, and more irritable than wa:
her wont, and often, though not always
she realized how short her span of life wa
growing. She had looked death SO stead
lily in the face now, that it seemed the
dreadful countenance grew gentler; the
old mad fear had left her, though it re,
turned at times, but still Paul Beatoun's
face filed her dreams by night, hel
thoughts by day To die and be forgot.
ten The pain of the thought was as
keen as ever; all her life had been his,
though he did not know it. and he would
never think of her-she was nothing to
him. She told herself she did not now
wish to be first with him, but she wanted
to be in his life, and not to fade utterly
into the past.
So an idea came to her, repulsed at first
yet returning over and over again, each
time more strongly, and dwelling longer
with her as autumn crept on to winter,
and she grew weaker. "He could never
guess the truth" she thought, eff did it,
and know / have so little time"
She was lying on the sofa one chill No
vember day-for the last few days one of
those strange revivals of vitality, which
all know of in cases like hers, had made
poor Mrs. Fawcett hope against hope that
her darling was really better; given back
to her, perhaps, from the grave and there
was glad tone in her voice as she entered
the room with a large bowl of violets,
which she placed on table near the girls
side.
Are they not lovely, Helen?' she
| asked.
Helen reused herself EYES," she said.
"Mother, darling, do you know l think it
| is bad for US both, seeing so few people :?
l shall never get well unless think l am
! so, and / feel so much better and stronger
l want to be gay'
Mrs. Fawcett looked both surprised and
alarmed.
II don't know what you mean, dear"
II want to begin to really show l am
| getting WE'LL" said Helen. '.Yeu know
am, and so / wish you would ask one or
two people to dinner on my birthday, next
week"
"Heien, dear, don't think of it. You
are not strong enough for anything of the
Sort"
II am strong enough for that" said
Helen, a strange resolve in her voice. 81
do want it, mamma, and you must let me
have my own way. l have been good and
obedient SO long" She went to her
mother and took her head between her
thin, slender hands, and kissed her in a
caressing, playful manner to hide the real
earnestness that possessed her. "Do,
Madre," she implored. "You know, if |
do feel well enough, need not come
down. But l shall, you are curing me SO
fast"
Il will ask DIR. James" began Mrs. Faw-
cett.
Helen made face. "No," she said;
'please don't, though am sure he would
tell you might; but want my own way.
Indeed, will be careful"
"Whom would you like asked?"
Helen named three or four people, then
paused for moment, as rejecting.
1--WE want a young man." she said. 'Let
me have the address book, mamma We
will have the first we come to. "a No:
there is no a. except young Arbuthnot
and he is away with his people. 3D. Yes;
here is Mr. Beatoun."
II don't know if he is in town." said
Mrs. Fawcett, but she wrote the note.
MIR. Beatoun was in town and accepted
The ftful fire which had fickered up in
Helen's dying lamp of life for the pre-
vious week burnt brightly enough to de-
ceive most of Mrs. Fawcett's guests on the
evening of the small dinner party, which
to the hostess seemed like ghostly mem
DRY of such parties in the past Excite
ment, nervousness, and the fever of her
disease gave Helen that night vividness
| she had never had in health. Paul
| Beatoun was struck when he saw her by
the strange beauty of her eyes, the bright
ness of her face and talk He took her
down to dinner, and they seemed to drift
back into memories of different times
when they had met. A new sympathy
| sprang up between them, personal near
ness Helen had never felt before
Later on in the evening, they were talk
| ing of an artist just dead, young sculptor
of promise.
do you know that statuette bv him
mother has in the boudoir 2" Helen asked
Mr.. Beatoun.
'No; l should like to see it. Would
you show it mew
| dared to use the transparent rulse, far less
avail herself of its success, for fear both
| of his perceiving it, and of other people
| doing so; she was careless of all this to-
night, or rather she had nerved herself to
l
| ing to her mother, 81 am going to show
Mr. Beatoun the Fate" and went into the
boudoir followed by Paul.
81 wish he had had time to work at the
large statue" she said; sit would have
been very fine"
"This is fine" the young man answered,
gazing at the figure, only the small, rough
model for the statue that would never now
live in marble.
SHE told us it was only a study" she
said "He wanted to do group from
that chorus in the 'Atalanta.'
"Love between Fate and Death-yes,''
he said musingly. He looked at the girl
by him, and some strange sadness in her
eyes struck him like the sudden touch of
a cold wind. A dreamy melody that was
being played in the drawing-room came
softly to their ears; the only light in
the room was crimson glass lamp, that
shed hectic glow over Helen's face and
her dress of misty white. Paul Beatoun,
looking at her, perceived with certain
shock how very slight she was, how thin
the hand which rested on dark velvet
claret table.
"Mr. Beatoun," she said, suddenly and
simply, 81 wonder if you would under
stand a wish have"
Some note of pathos in the sweet voice,
some unconscious appeal In the eyes,
touched the young man to vague new
feeling. TRY me-" he said earnestly,
leaning toward her. There was that in
his look which some time earlier would
have seemed to her as the vision of pos
sible heaven, and even now it struck a
quick gladness through her. though there
was no longer any hope.
"You know | am very ill., she said at
last.
you have been, but you are better now
are you not"
Il am dying" And then she told him
all how little life remained to her
He looked at her with strange sorrow
and establishment. st can't be true he