The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1893-08-02

in the little village postosfice had been
looking closely. they could have seen
her hand tremble and the letter drop
upon the floor, and, when she stopped
20 pick it up, the play of emotions on
her face. For a moment she had TO
stop, leaning upon the show case as If
looking at the cheap, little trinkets with
in which she did not see. When her
strength returned, the girl again mas
tered her grief, and walked calmly and
bravely out. Her first Thought was that
she would not give him the letter. she
would have her mother present it, but
in doing this she feared her mother
would see her grief and suspicion, and
would know all. The letter itself was
telling tale. To perform this task she
courage. The question was with her, could
she summon sufficient courage to ac-
complish this? As it had now become
duty, it was no longer a sentiment. A
faithful woman can do anything. she
resolved to present the letter, and hide
every emotion. She stepped in the door
and said, in the same calm voice
This is all l got for you today,
handing it to him, but scarcely looking
at him, passed out of the room.
He saw Sparkle no more that day.
Her mother attended him, excusing
Sparkle, as she was feeling ill. This in
telligence was too much for his nerves
AMI he asked many questions. If she
ing down? If she was crying? If she
complained of pain? To all of which
her mother answered she had the head
ache; that she was so nervous, and had
become so pale and looked so badly,
and at times she talked in such melan-
choly strains, a trace of which had
never occurred before in her nature
The next day Sparkle did not come
into the room. The physician said she
was nervous and needed rest. Nor did
she enter the room for nearly a week,
by which time Carl was able to sit UP
a little. When she again entered the
room, she addressed him with, Il am so
glad you are sitting up, Mr.. Brandon.
L hope you will soon recover"
Sparkle" replied Carl, 81 am so sorry
you were sick, l was so distressed.
have inquired about you every hour,
and last night 1 slept none, thinking
and worrying about you
"Oh you need not worry about me; l
am nothing to you"
This was his opportunity.
Nothing to me-" said he. ITO you /
owe my life and even more. To you l
owe all the better thoughts that have
ever had. You have resurrected me-
This was joy too great. The poor
| girls emotions bore her away as the
floods would sweep the driftwood.
Did he still love her? Turning toward
him with the looks she once had,
Carl Brandon, had 1 realized all this
it would have saved me suffering, dur
ing which it seems l have lived a thou
sand strange lives, through a thousand
dark years. My nature seemed to have
let go of all that it ever held or
touched before. 1t seemed to have first
tasted a cup of grief that refines
through sorrow, faith and endurance,
and then it seemed to me 1 was no
longer anything in the world, and l met
strange, sad creatures somewhere, and
one of them told me that joy and grief
were only the sensations Of a nerve;
| that TO be happy we must be without
feeling, must be nothing, and how L
longed to be nothing; but when you tell
me this, / come back again to this
world, where have found only thorns
! and thistles."
She extended her hands to him, as If
to make friends anew, when she heard
a voice at the gate. Looking, she saw
a carriage, and a lady alighting, saying:
"Is this the home of John Brooke?'
The girl was powerless to speak. The
woman was the original of the per-
fumed photograph The driver answer
ing in the affirmative the woman
walked directly to the open door, but
upon entering she only found Carl Bran
don.