Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1891-07-01

What do we known Of night st midday?
No thing.
I remember thinking this. I remem Der
crossing the long room. Iremember sud
den fl ash and crash, and the oaths of meD,
and girl's mad scream. After that, moth
ing more, until sense of pain awakened
me, and I found myself lying in the dark,
with my own hand, cold and clammy, lying
10 great, warm, soft hand that held it
very tenderly.
I tried to rise. I could not.
Where am I?'' l said, and my voice low
and hoarse in my own ears. "Who is this?"
SIS it night?" asked.
sIt is night?" said the voice.
''Why do you not light lamp ?"
He made no answer.
''Wtat has happened?"
"Do you not remember"
81 remember noise"
'It was an explosion" he said. after q
pause. lyon wera hurt. Thars gers many
killed outright"
sDoctor,' I said lis it night?'
sIt is night" he said solemnly.
'But only for me-" said. II know it.
l am smitten blind."
"Try to be calm, my friend" be whis.
pered. sit is hard but try to bear it,"
What can we do but bear what God sends
upon us? But I did not bear it we'll. Can
you wonder? All was gone-all my hope
of life, and even all that 1 had won in the
past year. Some wretch had stolen the lit
tie note skin pouch from my bosom. I was
beggar and blind. prayed to die, but I
lived, and at last | grew strong again.
One day, as I sat by the hospital window,
l formed resolution. | said to myself; l
can at least be brave enough to spare Bet
tina something and l will do it, though my
suffsrings should be increased by the act. l
know that if she knew the truth she would
grieve bitterly and remain true to me. l
knew that if I were sent home as the doc
| tor says I might be, she would be constant
| forever-she would even marry me, and try
| to feed me as she does her helpless ones.
| That shall never be. l will send her word
| that am dead, and then, when she has
grieved while, youth with triumph; she
will marry the young farmer who loves her
| so truly, and is good as we'll as rich, and
she will only remember poor Bernard ten
derly as one who loved her in the past, and
young Bernard is really dead. This blind
beggar is not the same man.
The good doctor shall write me letter,
and as he passed 1 called to him and told
him all.
sit will be best for her, it will set her
free. She will grieve bitterly, l know, but
the other lover will one day, blot out my
memory. Tell her that l died with her
name on my lips-I do. AS die, heart
and soul, here before you. have but one
thought. It is Bettina.
'And you think she does not love you as
well?'' be said.
''She loves me even as love her," said.
'Ah, doctor it is because I love her SO, that
| would spare her all can. She is worthy
of better fate than to fade away for a
wretch like me. You will write
81 will write,' he said. ~-''Stay-come to
my little Office with me. We shall be quiet,
and let me think. A woman can tell the
story better than I, especially as it is touch
ing and no. quito true. have nurse here
now who can break the news tenderly, I be-
lieve if any one can. She has waited on
you for a day or two, saying very little;
forbade that. But her hands are soft, her
touch kind, think"
"God bless her! She is as gentle as a
motherP' I said, "Yes, let her write the
letter."
He took my hand in his and led me to the
room he called his office. Then he left me
a moment, and when he returned l heard
the rustic of a woman's garment following
him.
"This is the nurse who will write the let.
ter" he said.
81 thank her," said 1. ''Be gentle,
madame; my Bettina has a gentle heart"
"What shall l write?" she asked almost
in whisper.
'Write that am Dead" 1 said. "Wrte
that loved her to the last. Write that |
babe you tell her when her grief had passed
to wed another and bo happy"
"Happy, and you dead!' she said. "And
she loves you?"
"Madame," said I, eve have proverb
in Cur country that the dead trouble is bet
ter than the living one. A blind beggar
whom she loved, and who hopelessly loved
her would be heavier on Battina's life
than the memory of her dead Bernard. I
can do little now, but can do this. Write
madame"
The pen moved over the paper, Soon she
said:
81 have written. Shall 1 read it to you'll"
I answered: eyes, if you will madame.
She began:
''Die, unhappy girl! Your Bernard has
persisted. Had he lived, blind ortmaimed,
or helpless in any way, there would be hope
for you. You could fly to him; you could
be his sunlight. Alas! no such joy awaits
you. He is gone. He is no longer any
where where you can find him. Lie down
and die. This is all you can do. He is
dead"
She ended in flood of tears. 1 started
to my feet.
"Why do you write thus?" / cried.
"Who are you? How did you come by that
voice? Speak!'
Then felt two little hands steal about
my neck and wet cheek touch mine, and a
whisper came:
"Bernard, it is 1. Did you not guess.
Do you not know your own Bettina?"
She clasped me closer. l heard the door
close, the doctor was gone
"The good DOCTOR" she said. "The first
day of your illness he found letter you had
begun to me, and sent it with word of your
misfortune, and letter to one who could
bring me to you if l desired to come. All,
God bless him! he knew a woman's heart
better than you did.
'You were SO feeble that he dared not let
me tell you who was st first. To day you
were to know. All, Barnard, to day, when
you would have written to me that you
were dead. Bernard how could you do it?
How could Won use me SOP"
SIT would have been best for you."
said.
But she clasped me closer.
My life has been dark one ever since;
but Bettina' hand has led me day by day,
and the good doctors kindness has been
shown to Us in teaching me such work as
can do. shall never see the sweet face that
| remember so well. But l know it's beauty
and its goodness, and the love light in the
eyes too we'll to forget them. Aud I know
that am dearer to her for roy misfortune,
and am happy.
SOME STgANGE lllSNOMERS.
b1uch of the Russia leather comes from
Connecticut, Bordeaux wine from Cali
fornia, Italian marble from kentucky,
French lace from New York, and Spanish
mackeral from the New jersey coast. DR..
D;o.ooJo GojIo-, Madioal Dicoouar1, oo,., oo