The morning call., 1893-12-10

dared not show the emotion that aim ost
mastered me.
"Good-b by them" he said. holding out his
hand.
Something that was very like sob rose
In my THROAT. but l straLgled it, Stranged
| 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!' / moaned
through the long days and nights which
followed. but heard no more of him. Ii
! only ne had refused to go and waited, now
different life might have been! | comforted
myself with the hope that he wOuld return,
| the campaign could not be of long dura-
tiou. / would wait and hope. and should
1 he love me still | would then let the dead
past bury its dead.
If only / had let him write, bur he never
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 desrer to tn g
than would have been the love lays of
poet. Some day l would show him how |
mad treasured the ragged page. which was
already limp and faded with my kisses.
News Of the war! News of the war!"
40 lOdtCu UY tuc NCUuOiS Vi SpoCldlSs duu
read with avidity of every engagement.
There was no mention of him. doctors d i'd
not seem to count. and yet felt cOnvinc ed
that wherever he was he was doing go 0d
! and gallant work in the face of danger.
AT last / saw his name and knew my
pride in him was justified.
A detachment of Egyptians 0fficered by
Englishmen had gone forth in search of
the ensmy; they had met. and at the mos
critical moment the cowardiy Egyptian S
had turned tail and fled, leaving their lead :
ers TO fight almost single-handed against
overwhelming numbers.
The papers presented graphic accoun I
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 mo-
ment something in my brain seemed TO
snap then | gathered myself tOge ther with
mighty effort and left the house. By
night l 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 it is needless to say the pl ace
where he and his companions hsd falle n
was occupied by the enemy and impossible
to every One-most Of all girl.
Years have passed and the events
lated are haZy in the mists of the past.
am what is called happy wife and me,
now.
My husband is a good man. with NJ
timent and an ineXhaustible fuI
humOr. We sat, drink, and are
and our children grow up bonny n
around US. Our lives are full OF
duties and employments which
every thought as the world wags
lily on.
And yet sometimes perforce
still to breathe. to dream. TO sigh
then | open my faded sachet aud g
the vello wing half sheet and its scrs
meaningless lines. written by the
that can never more be lifted to succo'
suffering or defend the right.
Only prescription, but on Ii are
kisses and my tears. Only a prescripuN
yet it recalls the glory of my life. its conn
ing and its passing, and its burial in ths'
bosom of the scared Egyptian sand.-L.
Creswick in Belgravia Magazine.