The National tribune., 1891-12-31

was granted, yet she could not say "Nunc
dmittis" Spdds My all her young life. grown
so feeble, seemed to gather itself into one pas
siOnate struggle against that cold tide of death,
creeping up over 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. il she could have done him ever so little
good. 10 would have been less hard to die, but
her love had been vain and useless. as useless rs
her life. Out OF the deeps OF her love and her
pain, aud the awful shadow of death there had
come that pitlful cry not 10 be wholly forgotten
when she was dead. which had found express
sion in her poor little git TO Paul BeatOun.
Ont OF the deep5 now came the impotent voice
pleading for help where help there could be
none, but from that darkness and that loneli-
ness OF agony was uttered also n tenderer and
intenser desire-"0h, that be shall DO happy,
that his life shall be sweet and noble to the
end. that no may fulfil himself"
The cold. short note she had written to Mr..
Beatoun showed nothing of this, any more
than IL said the framed sketch sent with 10 WAS
the one on which Helen's eyes had best loved
70 dwell so that she liked to think his would
rest it, or that IL told the unuttered thought,
"Will he come here 10 say he has had it2 l
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 answer2"
She struggled to appear better than she was,
in the dread Of not being able to see him IL no
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 yith the silence OF death itself knowing,
a. EAt a fnnG IL Tar
| them again.
There was this ireariness 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 a strange shining in her
| eyes a fixed color on her cheeks.
al don't like to leave you, DEAR" Mrs. Faw-
cett said, but would you miss me if / go
round TO the evening service? i 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 choking
/ tears were too near her eyes; she only bent
| down 20 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 answered. Had no read
the reason Of her reqrest-that the reason she
4 wished him to hold her memory was that she
! loved him with love as strong as death2
a letter, Miss Helen"
Sho knew the handwriting, seldom as she
4 had seen il. She would not open il before the
| quick, curious eyes OF the maid who had
brought il 10 her, but her hand kept il close as
with n secret caress till the servant had left
the room, then she opened il slowly with q
! tenderness for the seal his hand had impress
! ed, the paper it had touched.
DEAR Miss FAwCETT: am only Just back from
/ my fathers In Warwickshre. where have been
/ Tor Christmas. aud found your note and sketch
never having thanked you. am afraid TO think.
will not take the sad meaning OF the gift for I
believe and hope you viii live TO Eladden ana
writing this hurFedly, with the wish that this may
be glad New Year 10 you-as glad as ii will DO to
me II see you win back health.
/ May come and see you tomorrow? II do,
/ hope shall Ind you better than when said
\ EOod-by last.
You're ever. PAUL BEAToUs.
! She knew there was no New Year for her, yet
! life held some gladness for her still the hope
/ OF his voice, Ills eyes. the touch Of his hand,
/ and she went to sleep that night, happy hope
I in her heart.
But that hope was never realized. When
| Paul BeatOun called she was far too i'll to see
him, hemOrThage had como on, and the frail
i life had no power 10 resist it. A few more
days and Helen was dead, her secret still her
own, though half OWNED, with areyerent ten
l derness and sadness, by the man who had so
/ uncOnsciOusly possessed her life.
Had she siBned against the sweet instinct OF
mRidenliness in her desire that her memory
should be something more than cipher to the
man she loved or may one judge gently her
4 piteous device that when his eyes fell on
/ the sketch she gave him it might wake a faint
remembrance Of herself?
Her judgment and her plea are written In
the same wOrds-she loved Paul Beatoun.-
/ Temple BdF.