The Press., 1890-08-28
tconcluded from last weekly BY THE SONI)ER.

to save human being. It was a noble thing to do. The occasion called for heroic action and you were equal to it, but don't throw away your life or your health unnecessarily; there would be nothing praiseworthy in that"
 ''I shouldn't do it for praise; I am tired of thinking about myself and hating the people on the Sonder," she answered i'm petuously. ''I am glad that have this man to take care of. want to work hard and he is not like the rest"
 By the rest I suppose you mean these poor neighbors of ours among the bluffs. What have they done, won- der, to deserve your hatred? I think l have seen you holding their babies in your arms when they were nearly dead with fever; think I have seen you nursing and caring for my patients when trembled for your own safety. Do you hate those whom you help to save from death? do not" he added with smile.
 ''They hate me-" she answered bit terly.
 "You are mistaken. They fail to un- derstand you. They feel that although you are in one sense one of themselves you live apart from them in thought and feeling. Do you expect gratitude when you sacrifice your comfort and en- danger your health for them? I have been physician for fifteen years, Miss Burton, and I have found but few cases of gratitude. My patients are often too poor to pay me, but they generally re- gard themselves as the injured parties in o-,l 1 %af17 I. indeed, might say with you that they hate me, but yet love my work. Suc- cess is my greatest reward. I love to save life, and so do you.
 "In regard to our patient here, can understand why it is more pleasant for you to care for him. He is very hand some, and as you saved his life you have a right to feel great interest in him."
 q wonder if he lives in Orquay?' said Jamie.
 "No," replied the doctor decidedly, 'the would be as much out of place in Orquay as on the Sonder. Doubtless he will be inquired after and found. In the meantime we must take as good care of him as we can. But be careful of your own health and strength, Miss Burton, and remember that the rich and hand some can be ungrateful as well as the poor and ho,nely."
 Day after day passed, with no change in the patient save a gradual sinking.
 At first few neighbors, curious to see the man saved out of the river by "that proud Jamie Burton," came and offered to help, but they looked so ague stricken and woebegone, so obviously in need ot help themselves that Mrs. Burton, al Janie's entreaty, sent them away with thanks, saying that they could do all there was to be done. As to Jamie, the tides of life were running high with her. She seemed incapable of fatigue, and the doctor on his daily visits looked upon her with wonder. Instead of weariness there was buoyancy. Her face had lost it's pallor, and was blooming as if she had partaken some fabled elixir of life. As he watched her lowering over the still unconscious man, with that grand maternal look in her face so character. istic of all truly noble women when car. ing for the helpless or suffering, he expe. rienced pang of anguish when he thought what the awakening and reac- tion might be.
 ''He had better die," was the thought of the physician, ethan to live to break the heart of such woman, as feel that he will. And yet hs must not die if I can save him. He must be restored. Yet she will die unless he returns her love. A woman is strange creature anyway. Think of her loving this man | who has never been able to recognize her, whose name she doesn't know, who may even have wife! It is past belief. By his bedside she is transformed. If he regains consciousness, as think he will, he will see her at her best. God grant | he may not blight such flower" Still the days went on, and there was no change. On Sundays an elderly, hard working man came and sat awhile by the bed and then went away. He was the | husband and father, who was at home no other day.
 The boys fshed, brought home and | milked the COW, cut wood and did ot;.sa | chores about the place. The mother at tended to her homework, and at night watched for three hours while Jamie slept, and every day the doctor came. Il was not his busiest season, and he could spend an hour or two daily by the bedside of his still unknown patient, for no inqui ries had been made about him, although l the story of the rescue had found it's way into the columns of The Orquay News | Nor had he in his delirium given a history of his life good or bad. | It is only in fiction that connected stories are told in the rawlings of fever In reality the labored breathing, tht sharp cry, the heart breaking moan ani unuttered meaningless words, tell nc story of the past-only one of present suffering and a terrible battle with tht king of terrors on the sands of a shadowJ sea.
 So these three, mother, daughter ani physician, watched the stranger as h' went down, down to the river of death At length there came 8 day whe1 there was slight change in the daily routine.
 As soon as the doctor had looked a his patient he asked that the boy might take care of his horse.
 ''I shall stay today and tonight" h, said. By midnight we shall know tn, worst or the best, whichever it may be. | He looked at Jamie. Glove is immor tai in her eyes" he thought. "She doesn' believe that he can die, but it will b' far better for her if he does. She vii always believe then that her love would have been returned, and if no one claims him she can have his grave to love ani devote her life to planting flowers on Ii but I think he will live, and wha then? We'll, we shall see."
 As midnight approached deep silence