The morning call., 1893-12-10

dared not show the emotion that aim ost
mastered me.
''Good-by then," he said. holding out his
hand.
Something that was very like sob rose
in my THROAT. but straLgled it. Strangled
it until he was gone. Then. oh, then l
dared to weep calling him back to love, to
| bless me, for ne could not hear.
Armand. my beloved. stay" l moaued
through the long days and nights which
followed. bnt heard no more of him. Ii
only ne had refused to go and waited, now
different life might have been! l comforted
myself with the hope that he won Id return,
the campaign could not be of long dura-
tiou. l would wait and hope, and should
he love me still | would then let the dead
past bury its dead.
If only had let him write, but he never
attempted it; he had forgotten l was a
woman, and accepted my harsh decision
as Interchangeable. He made no effort to
reverse IL. The only scrap OF his hand
writing possessed was the prescription
he had given me at our first meeting.
With loving hands | made a sachet of
satin and placed it in its scented folds.
Its commonplace lines were dearer to me
than would have been the love lays of
poet. Some day l would show him how l
had treasured the ragged page. which was
already limp and faded with my kisses.
News of the war! News of tho war"
was tUdIcu UY lfl6 NcDuOTS Ol SpoCldiS, duu
read with avidity of every engagement.
There was no mention of him. doctors did
not seem to count, and yet felt cOnvinc ed
that wherever he was he was doing 60 cd
and gallant work in the face of danger.
AT last l saw his name and knew my
pride in him was justified.
A detachment of Egyptians Officered by
Englishmen had gone forth ia search of
the enemy; they had met. and at the mos t
critical moment the cOwardly Egyptians S
had turned tail and fled. leaving their lead :
ers 10 fight almost single-handed against
overwhelming numbers.
The papers presented a graphic accOuu /
of the heroic fighting which followed until
the handful of officers was overpowered.
the correspondent dwelling finally at some
length on the GOODNESS and cOur age OF the
doctor. Armand Daintry. who fought with
them. and whose body was found sur
rounded by seven of the enemy, to whom
he had dealt death before his own end had
come.
Oh, loving heart. farewell. For a mo-
ment something in my brain seemed to
snap. then | gathered myself toget ther wit h
a mighty effort and left the house. By
night | had taken my passage to Egypt.
WHAT l expected to 90 there L cannot say .
perhaps | had some vague desire to re-
cover the body of the brave man who said
he had none to care for him.
Anyway the Journey saved my reason,
although IL is needless to say the pl ace
where he aud his companions had falle n
was occupied by the enemy and impossible
to every 0ne-most Of all girl.
Years have passed and the events re-
lated are haZy in the msts of the past. 1
am what is called happy wife and mother
now.
My husband is good man. with no SEN
timent and an inexhaustible fund of
humOr. We eat, drink. and are merry,
and our children grow up bonny and fat
around us. Our lives are full Of social
duties and employments which absorb
every thought as the world wags cheer
lily on.
And yet sometimes perforce l stand
still to breathe. to dream, To sigh. 'Tis
then l open my faded sachet and gaze on
the vellowing half sheet and its scraw ling.
meaningless lines. written by the hand
that can never more be lifted to succor the
suffering or defend the right.
Only a prescription, but on it are my
kisses and my tears. Only a prescripti on,
yet it recalls the glory Of my life. its CON-
Ing and its passing, and its burial in the
bosom of the scared Egyptian sand.-L.
Creswick in Belgravia Magazine.