New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1891-06-28


hut withont ever having given preference III
thought to one above another: Certainly no eyes
had ever followed him in his s SOLITUDE 10 '"'
dark ones first seen to-day were dong. 80,
He went out presently, the rain having ceaeeu;
Dublin. and had laughed and Joked ana uance ~
and saIntered down the unattractVe Main-e' VI
The shops were shut save those frequent ones
which added the sale of liquor to that OF hloie
innocent commodities. In one shaT
scboolbov was reading 1.-The Weekly Freeman
aloud 70 n rroup of freze-coated hearers; Az the
door of another a ballad-snger was plaintlyely
piping the Mothers FAREWELL with its praceicai
refrain:
..Then write to me often and send me all you can -
And don't forget where you are that you re- an
The Doctor might at another time nave lo 1isu
and enlivened one of the lstless groups stahulhs
about but after moment or two OF hesitation.
he turned his back to them and Walkeu In tI I
direction of the gate Of lnagh. mere a MIS- snn
Connel down there, that ! ought TO go ana see
sizes always complaining" he SAID TO hiIhseli'
in self-excuse. But having arrived az ner COZ
tage he by glance at the uhshuo.eeu
dow that his visit would be work OF supereloga,
lion. as she was busily engaged in cardlng WooI
by the ircside, the clear light Of the paranne
lamp, which without any Intervening eIage r,n U1
candles had superseded her rushlght, showing
her comely face to be hale and hearty
Half unconsciously the young man passed on
crossed stile and walked up narrow, nau ,,n
bordered path toward the light Of another VIII
dow which was drawing him, moth;like, by ltS
gleam 1t also, though IN the Removaoles
house. was unshuttered testisying to the pcaceIui
of the district. lie COulu see Cnecri III
room. gay with flowers and chintzes. the nght OF
n shaded lamp falling on Louise Edens fair head,
with II bent over heavy volume on the taDIe,
an intrusive white kitten disputing her attenuoH
with it, He drew back, with sudden sense OF
shame at having ventured so far, and hurried
homeward TO dream of the fair vision the day had
brought him.
for the Young Doctor Day after day he met
Miss Eden, at first by so-caled accident put
soon their visits were pre-arranged To 1ail 10
gether at some poor cottage, where she told MN
he could bring healing or he told her she could
bring help 4,
Size had thrown herself with devotion into the
tending Of the poor have wasted SO eaT many
accomplishments for myself alone but now !
have at last the chance of helping Others must
make the most of it, especially as 1t is in my own
dear Ireland
"The lady" was soon we'll known among the
neglected tenants of an estate in Chancery. Ter
self-imposed duties increased from day TO day The
old diving man would take food but from her
hands. The Doctor found her at his house one
evening. She had cut herself badly in trying
to open a bottle for him, and was deadly. pale
Il can't bear the sight of blood, she con1essed'
and tainted on the earthen floor. 1t was with
gentle reverence that he carried her out and lald
her on the cushions of his car, spread ny the
roadside: but the sweet consciousness OF having
for that one moment held her in his arms never
left him when alone. In her presence her frank
friendliness drove away all idle dreams and Wis
ions.
DR.. Quin and Louise Eden met again sadly at the
house where they had first seen each other, that
of the Capels They were called there by sudden
message that the poor girl Mary was dying and
before they could obey the summons she had
asScd away.
The little room was brighter now a large -paned
window tie gift OF her mlPisterng irle enc t let
Of the bed hung beautiful engraving of the
Magdalen at the Saviour's leet, while a bunch Of
tea-roses in glass still gave out their delicate
fpaO \pip In
in but gave place TO " the lady. The old
father ,ilents " greeted. her and wrung
her offered hand, but moved away without
speaking. The mother, staying her loud weep
ing, was less reserved.
Its we'll you earned her indeed, miss" she
said; "and she did be thinking of you always.
The poor child, she ill for near ten months,
but | wouldn't begTudee minding her II 1t wac
for seven year. Sure / got her the best could,
the drop of new milk and a bit O white bread,
and grain O. tea in while, and meSelf and the
old man eatin nothin hut stirabout, and on
Christmas night We had but herriH' for our din
ner not Ike some Of tic neighDors tha; do he
scattering. Sure, we never thought she was
gOin' till this morning, when she bid us send for
the priest. And when she saw the old man crying,
Father says she, don't fret. III soon be III
Heaven praying for you with me own Laurence
Sure She always said she'd die on the same day
as him, and she didn't after-it was of Satur-
day he died and this is Sunday"
Louise and the doctor looked up suddenly at
each other This indeed the 18th Of Sep
TENDER, the day on which Laurence Capei had
They presently left the house of mourning soon
to become, 81 sad incon2uty, house Of feasing
Louise leaving little money for the wake"
in the old woman's hands They walked toward
home together the doctor leading his horse
Il hope there is nothing wrong, Miss Eden.
he asked after. a little, noticing how distracted
yes" she answered. Il have had news that
troubles me. Ny brother has written 70 tell me
that he is going TO marry the lady at whose house
he has been staying in Yorkshire and that, rs
she has large property there, he will give up
his IRISH appointment They offer me q home,
what troubles me is the thought of leaving Gloon.
where | have learned 10 help the people and 10
love them. | can never settle into dull selfish,
luxurious life again" Her eyes filled with tears
as she spoke
The young mans heart beat fast Might he
might he dare TO lay himself at her feet? lie
nervously played with the horses name and said
TREMENDOUSLY: I'VE can never do without you
now. Miss Eden. We should all be lost without
YOU.
sadly at the distant blue outline of the Clare
hills, and the sun sinking behind them flashed
upon her fearful eyes. She was on tne other side
of the horse and little i'll advance, and he could
not, had he dared, have touched her hand. The
words came out suddenly:
We can never do without you here-I can never
do without you. Will you stay with me? |
haven't much to offer You: goo a year is all |
am earning now, and may get the hospital
| can't give YOU what you are used 10; but if
had the whole world aud its riches, it's to you
| would bring them"
She had stopped now and listened TO him,
startled. Then she turned again, looked Mt the
tranquil hills and the far-sJretching woods Of
lnchguile. and the smoke curling from many
poor hearthstOne. vision flashed across her
mind of q life spent here in the country she had
learned t0l owe, among the people she longed TO
succOr, with for helper the strong, skilful man
who had stood with her by so many beds " sick
ness. Then she thought Of what her future would
he in a luxurious English household She could
the well regulated property, the tidy cottages
where squire and parsOn would permit her help,
but not need IT, An old woman looked from her
doorway as they passed and said God speed
ye. God bring we safe home and to Heaven"
They had come 10 the high road now and as
they stopped TO let a drove of cattle pass, she
turned and met the doctors wistful eyes with a
flash of enthusiasm in hers.
| will stay" she said. Z" | will give my life
TO Gloon and its poor"
Then, as they reached the Stile which led into
Inagh, she crossed il lightly and walked up the
narrow path, scarcely remembering 10 look back
before she out of sight and wave her hand
in farewell TO her happy lover.
NsTnc .f rim lao al