The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1892-08-27
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AWOMAN5 INFLUENCE

/ Il don't know" interposed Brian, for
want of better answer. L suppose
We must all be reconciled to whatever
comes to Us.
All, don't. 1t is cruel to talk of
being recone;led. I'd never be recon
piled: Neter!"
With these abrupt words, she started
to move away, but her tears blinded her,
and she would have fallen had not
Brian, Gu OK to detect her weakness,
caught her in his arms.
This will not do, Margaret, he said,
with some authority. L think you had
better 20 home with me. You will make
Yourself ill.
What nonsense, Brian, Ill from
watching few hours with sick
friend: | wouldn't be fit to live il that
We're the ease. Tbs is not physical
weakness
Aren't there others to do for Mrs
Ivens:" he asked, with some warmth.
why should it all fail on your shozl-
ders?"
All fail on my shoulders? Oh, Brian,
how you do exasperate me. OF course
thcro are others. Plenty of them
Everyt oily loves her, but for some rea-
5 n she likes to have me with her. And
WITH ner L lntenl 10 SId
Then stay you may" he answered,
meeting her defiant eye. L sha'n't
carry you away by bodily force, though
| don't think you should have your own
way in every case. [ have one request
to make. Perhaps you will oondescend
TO respect it. Don't kill yourself.
Il am not one of the killing kind, re-
joined Margaret, going upstairs. Good
hy for the present. You may call to
morrow, if you will.
Brian did call tomorrow. and this
second visit only confirmed the opinion
expressed in his first. Mrs. Ivcns was
dying-from no special disease, but from
gradual giving away OF the vital
forces. A life of care and anxiety, vex-
ationS and privations, and wearying
struggles to make both ends meet, had
told at last on the delicate constitution
Many who fall by the wayside are not
less brave than those who reach the
martyrs stake, and, ii the truest heroes
are those who bear life's burdens UNI
complainingly, Mrs. Ivens might justly
wear the crown of heroism.
Margaret was faithful to her trust.
Others came and went, fut she remained
y the SEX bed. Brian exhausted his
e treaties in vain, and even Christmas
Eve could no. tempt her to leave her
friend.
You tell me her hours are numbered.
Let me say until the end. 1t cannot be
very long now.
And Brian said no more.
Mrs Iyens' hours were, indeed, num-
bered. The flame OF life burnt fainter
and fainter, and when the night of
Christmas Eve passed into the dawn of
Christmas Day, the angels of life and
death crossed III their pathway, and the
tired soul found the land of perpetual
rest-the joys of an eternal morning.
The incidents of those closing moments
We're indelibly photographed on Mar
garet' 5 mind.
She had 10 be brave and strong for
the sake of those SO sadly Der, aved.
Mary had sobbed and the rector had
bowed his head in auguished grief, but
She had shed no tear She had brought
the solemn, awe-strncl children to their
mothers side she had seen the kiss OF
infinite tenderness pressed upon each
sad little face; her h art had echoed
Elsie's cry of anguish when for the last
time that little head was pillowed on a
diving mothers breast; vet her eyes had
been hard and dry, though the painful
tightening at her throat had made her
less little ones, so hard to speak. And
even now the tears would not come,
though she hal thought and thought
until her mind was weary.
The sunshine lay all about her, the
bright, glad sunshine OF Christmas; on
the floor, where the carpet looked 20
faded and worn; on the Very spot that
Ellcn'S fingers had mended so often and
so patiently in their old busy days; on the
old chintz sofa, where she wdS lying
now-so care!essly, SO thoughtlessly-
while the hcaro whose tender, unseltsh
love had made this house home, in all
that gives that word its highest, hottest
meaning. was forever Stilied in its last
sleep, and the tired patient hands lay
folded III the calm leSt to be broken
never again.
A sound in the hall, She started up
TO listen. ! he long PERIOD of watching
had made her nervous and sensitive,
and the house had been so still. Even
the baby voices We're awed to silence
The heavy footsteps AIRED sharply on
her cars. hey We're not Mary'S and
not the rectorg. They We're Brian's.
He entered the little room where she
was trying to rest, and with his sympa-
thy reflected on his fac, came to her
side
Mary has told me, he said, quietly.
Il am 80 sorry. l suppose l may take
you home now. 1t is Christmas, you
know, and i"
Christmas" she echoed. in far
away voice. Are you sure, Brian!
Christmas always brings happiness,
thought. and there is no happiness here.
| am ready to go home, though. | be-
licve | have been waiting for you. ! am
so red, so very tired | don't feel that
| can ever be rested again.
Brian looked his concern Such weak
ness was unusual in Margaret.
i am afraid you have done wrong"
lie said, with some leproach. You
should have taken my advice, Margaret;
Tut | suppose it is too lat TO scold now.
You need rest. That is EVIDENT.
Mar aret scarcely heard him. She
rose rather unsteadiIy and started to
leave the room. Tut with sudden remem-
hrance she turne back with the words:
Il shall take the children to Elmwood.
Christmas here would be a noel kerry for
them
\ shade Of annoyance passed over his
face. 1t would be useless to oppose
YOU, even if | desired 10 do SO, he re-
turne /. Take them, of course, but do
L
have You worrying yourself into an i'll.
ness. | believe in certain amount of
sympathy, but too much is TOO much"
L only want TO 90 10 bel and sleep
forever, was Margaret's answer. Il
am :" tired from being sorry.
Then The sooner yon go home the
better. have the earriage, and If you
are ready
In second Erian. l will not keep
You waiting long.
This time OF waiting was spent by
Margaret in the darkened room. where
the rector sat by all that remained to
him OF a beloved wife
Sh" approached the still form and
pressed long kiss on the pale brow.
She felt tie rector's burning eyes upon
her and she heard the hoarse words with
which he turned TO her:
NJ. | 70 1.-Two. 70 oil