The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, 1893-08-29
4 Ruined Life.
BY NASNETTE D. PIPER.

sician's wife, and I follow where he
leads me, though it may be sfar Off l
visit my husbands patients as sympa-
thizer and friend, and while he en-
deavors to build up their bodies, L
exert mys eli to give new tone to their
minds and hearts, by impartiug some
Of tue cheerfulness and sunshine OF
nv own life. often accompany the
doctor in his calls, and it is source of
much pleasure to me to study the diff
ferent phases of human character thus
found.
It was on one Of these occ lsions that
l first met Edith Warren, beautiful
woman, not yet thirty years Of age,
suffering from an incnrable disease.
She was one of those people we meet
now and then, who are prematurely
aged. There was the 1.-THE willowy
form, and the care-worn face; the
freshness and elasticity of youth, COM
bined with the world-weariness of the
aged. She had been a lovely creature,
and was yet. in spite OF the inroads
that sickness and grief had made, for
felt sure from the first that her ILL
ness was not purely physical. visit
ed her often, and found her so intelll.
gent and yet so sad, that through pity
learned to love her, and by various
arts and wiles tried to gain her con-
fidence. I was particularly anxious to
discover the cause Of her trouble, be-
cause, although T knew she could
never recover, T thought that If, in
some way, her sorrow could be re-
moved or forgotten, her life might be
indefinitely prolonged.
One day when | had been sitting by
her couch for some time, (she was al
most entirely confined to ler room
now,) saw that her eyes were filled
with tears. They were the first tears I
had seen, and silently reioiced. There
Is nothing so pitlful as fearless story
grief.
The stream that tr!ckles through the noun
tain,
Unpent, flows harmless from its fountain.
But bound, it bursts the solid rock.
And rends the mount with dreadful shock.
So griefs that weep, small wounds 1mpart,
But tears confined may burst the heart"
[ pressed her hand in sympathy, bat
said nothing, while she turned away
her head and wept freely. Then,
clasping both arms about my neck
she said: 'You have been my dear,
good friend. How can I ever repay
yon?"
"Give me your confidence" I re-
piled! sTrust me, and let me help
you"
She was silent for long time, as if
st a loss how to begin, or whether to
begin at all; but at length she said:
''There is no comfort. no peacs of
mind for ne this side the grave. Oil
it is long story, sad, sad story you
would have me- tell you, and fear
you will despise me when you have
heard it; but you have been so true q
friend, you deserve to know more Of
me-"
And this was her story, which I give
to you as nearly as can remember, in
her own language.
At the age Of eighteen, I was left a
pennlless orphan, with no near relative
save wealthy bachelor Uncle. He
offered me home and a life Of ease,
but preferring to be independent, l
supported myself by teaching and
spent nv vacations with Uncle. After
three years Of this manner Of living, I
gave my hand and heart to Fred War
rem, and believed myself the happ1est
of women. Fred was only poor book
keeper and could not keep me in lux
ury, but l cared not for that. I did
not want to be kept IN ldleness. bat
longed to be of some use and help to
my husband. I wanted to walk by his
side through the journey of life, bear
ing MY share Of its tolls and burdens.
My Uncle begged that he might help
us, but when I refused he called me
So wise little puss." and then added
more seriously, Il am sure have not
long to live. When l am gone, my
wealth is yours"
We commenced Housekeeping in a
very modest way, living chiefly to our
selves and for each other.
Those were beautiful daysi They
seem now like an enchanted dream
from which awoke, alas! toe; soon.
When twelve brief, blissfuI months
had passed away, I awoke one morning
to 6nd myself an heiress. 1t was
strange, perhaps, but l shrank from
the cares and responsibilities which
wealth had thrust upon me, with what
have since thought wss a preuonit:on
of evil Yet WAS glad that was able
TO tighten the labor Of my husband.
and st my solicitation be resigned his
position as bookkeeper N the large
establishment where he was employed,
op3 ,,rohoceS an jDtarast in the Sam.
house.
1t is sellom that one accustomed
to toll and hard-shlps, deals wisely
with riches, suddenly acq aired. This
may be some apology for US, or
should say, for myself. Fred insisted
that the money was mine, and should
direct its use. We purchased grand
residence, filed the house with ser
wants, and we're battered by the atten-
tions Of those whom We had hitherto
considered above us IN social position.
denceforth, nv life was not my own.
The burdens of society rested heavily
on nv untried shoulders, and | soon
wearied of it ALL
Still, nal much to make N happy,
for We often had quiet evening TO
o. rselves Those were reStful hours to
DO of US. Bat By anu by Fred began to
20 out evenings, aud often stayed untll
Iou5 after nv bed time. Ba>ilesS kept
him, lie said; bat be began to lose his
buuyancy OF spirit snd was never his
old merry sell again. AS day after
d,v be looked more worn and detected,
J became restless and miserable. Twas