The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1892-10-22
CHAPTER XXI.


entertained for his father, he took more
than usual interest in him.
Il want to see in you the worthy sue
cessor of my old friend" he said one
day. You can work out an honorable
career, and you should You owe it
not only TO his memory but alsoto that
dear, sweet wife of yours. Let her be
your inspiration. promised your father
when he was dying that | would act the
part of friend to her. | don't believe
/ can do that more effectually than by
helping you.
THE old refrain. Doctor. In all that
is done for me, l see Margaret as the
prompting motive. This prevents any
feeling Of conceit on my part, and l am
willing that she shall have the we'll
deserved credit, but, nevertheless, my
MINDLESS sails flap rather doiefully. -
DIR. Philips says hay, dear, sweet
WIFE What dc YOU think of that, Mar
garrett"
That he is man given to over
praise, replied Margaret, glancing up
from the scarf she was embroidering
A very nice man, though" she added,
turning TO her work once more. SO
good to ne and so good TO you.
He was standing behind her chair,
and bent his head 10 look into her eyes.
Nervous under such close contact she
started up, and made IL pretenae OF ar
ranging some books upon a small TIA bic.
The sigh with which his eye followed
her awakened in her heart some twing5
of remorse for what, she felt obliged TO
confess, was an unreasonable betrayal
of ill-huumor
Come back to your chair, Margaret.
You can b. very cruel sometimes.
Have you any right TO blame me,
Bliar:'
A g ance at his face made her regret
this question the second il passed her
lips, but before she could recall il he
had left the room, with the words deS-
tined TO echo in her heart through many
long, bitter days.
No, Margaret. No right at all. l
see your love is o. for me.
4 few minutes later she heard the
sound of his horses hoofs on the drive
outside. 1t was too late now. She
must wait until his return. Then she
would tel him how sorry she was.
She wondered why the moments
dragged so heavily, scarcely an hour
had passed since Brian had left her; il
seemed more like three. The sound OF
some disturbance down stairs came to
her ears. With nervous start she
listened anxiously. There was no mis-
taking the hurried footsteps and sub
dued voices. Something unusual had
happened.
With mind filled with terrible dread,
and heart beating to almost suffoca-
ton, she few down the steps, along the
hall, and into the library, and there
No need TO ask The matter now. Durin e
a second, in which she seemed to die Il
hundred deaths, she took in the white
face and still form upon the sofa, and
then, without even cry, but with an
expression that fixed itself indelibiy
upon the minds of those who saw it,
size knelt beside this remnant Of the
life and strength o. an hour before, and,
taking the cold hands between her own,
soothed and lressed them in her effort
to bring ba k their lost warmth. Poor
hands, little while ago she had shrunk
from their contact, am now they were all
powerless, too helpless to respond even
to her touch; vet she would still hold
them, and, perhaps, after time he might
feel. She would lay her heart on his,
he would hear its heating and might
understand. She would
Margaret"
She heard her name repeated softly;
she felt gentle touch upon her shout
der, and a strong hand lifting her from
her crouching position, and she raised
her face, haggard an drawn with suf-
fering, to meet DR.. Philips sympathetic
glance.
Don't give way" he said kin lily, see
ing the question in her eyes. We must
get him to his room, and meanwhile we
may hope that things are not SO bad as
they seem.
Poor child" he marmured after he
had left her; land poor Brian. | little
! thought, hen l saw him 50 Well and
| strong yesterday, that to-day he would
lie so near death. A sad ending to his
young career.
While Margaret sat by Brian's bed,
trying in the pain and remorse which
! filled her heart to overflowng to make
the most of the few attentions she could
| lavish upon him, thought came to heI
like ray OF hope.
| Il will ask him 10 come" she said
under her breath. i will ask him &c
| come. Did YOU call me. Brian" She
| bent over the bed and gazed mutely
up the motionless face. No, Brian
had not called, and with heartbroker
| sigh she turned away to write the tele.
| gram which was to tell Wilson O.
| Brian's danger.
AMI three hours later Wilson came
Well might Margaret say, as her hant
rested in his sympathetic clasp:
| Il felt SO sure that You would come
! Your presence gives me strength anC
hope l feel that he will he safe il
| your hands.
AS safe as these hands can make
| him, Mrs Leigh. Please God, YOU
! confidence will not be misplaced.
Margaret herself scarcely realized tn {
| extent OF this confidence until she ma {
! taken Wilson to Prian's room, anC
waited with a suspense that amounted
! to agony the opinion which she fel
would mean SO much.
I She watched his face anxiously, bu
| if revealed little, and only by subtl.
! intuition did she understand that h.
| considered Brian's state most critical.
With the last CLEAN OF hope DIVING
from her heart, she followed him from
| the room.
The truth, she pleaded. pressing
| her hand to her eyes. The who'll
truth. All, you hesitate That is NOR,
cruel still / can bear the truth best.
Poor child, he answered. You mus
not give way to this despair. Yet
since you ask me TO- the truth, !, vii
not deceive you. Brian's condition i
| most precarious. The odds are al
| against him. He has but one bar
chance"
He has one chance" she repeated
snatching at this straw OF hope. Then
Doctor. we will make the most Of tina
one chance. He cannot fight for him
self: We must fight for him.
we viii fight fer him. was Wilson
reply. Your courage and bravery mus
win, ana | shall exercise ali my ski
and all my experience for him. l shat
wire Immediately for professional
nurse, and nee we are 10 work togethe
need only remind YOU OF the necessit
to keep your health ard strength.
let ne stay with him, she replied
with an effort to compromise, and
promise 10 be docile in all else. All,
see BERTHE. He has heard.
Yes, BERTHE had heard: and BERTHE. &
usual, could not hide his feelings as h
| A.r,-nrat DlsaSSa traG az STruFcf !,