The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1893-02-25

a. the days OF busy men do. when one
day he realized that it was more tnaN
six weeks since he had heard from hi,
child friend, Laura Holt.
'How odd that little soul has not
written" he thought; perhaps she
too, has forgotten"
However, as he had just got som,
| numbers OF q magazine in which q
short story OF his was appearing that
month, he put wrapper around ond
and addressed it to "Miss Laura
Holt; "and by return OF posts there
came for him letter in q strangf
handwriting, bearing the post mark Of
the town in which she lived.
AYE, but was it 80 strange? Amyatt
|.stared at it for full minute before nd
opened it, his memory going back,
back, back-Oh, to the days of his
boyhood, gone never to come back
again, never any more. And then,
| when he tore the cover and found
| that it contained little note in hia
friends round handwriting, that
memory straightway vanished.
Dear Mr.. John Dawes, II said, "thank
you SO much for sending me the story!
| Mother is Just going to read 1t to me, but
wanted to write to you first. You mus'
| have been very i'll, and can only sit ulp
| for few minutes and write with pencil
now. 1 think am rather better. l have
been five weeks in bed already. Ever your
loving friend. LAURA
Naturally, Amyatt knew but little
about the ailments of children, but it
seemed to him that for child OF nine
years to be in bed five weeks at a
stretch, with no immediate prospect
OF getting up again, was q very bad
sign, and in his anxiety he appealed
to the regimental surgeon.
whats the matter with the child"
he asked.
81 don't know"
s'Then you'd better make the i'll
ness shorter, or give it scarlet fever"
he said, thinking that Amyatt was
merely stating case for one OF his
stories.
"But it is real child" the major
explained.
"Very bad lookout, then" returned
the doctor, decidedly.
Then Amyatt wrote to the mother.
81 shall be grateful if you will tell
me how my little friend is" he said.
II assure you if / had known hen
for twenty years I could not feel
more anxious than her letter has
made me feel this morning" Yet
even when this was gone, he still
could not take his thoughts away
from the dear little friend whom no
had never sesn, lying PROSTATE, for
the handwriting told him she must
be indeed very ill, on a bed OF sick
ness and pain.
In two days the reply came, writ.
ten in the same hand as the cover OF
the childs last letter, handwriting
which set every nerve in his body
throbbinc, every pulse beating like a
steam engine.
"My little girl is very very ill.," Mrs
Holt wrote 'much worse since she wrote
to you, and the doctors told me last night
that / must be ready to face the worst
When tell you that she and / are quito
alone in this world, you will know
what my agony is. l can't write about it. |
can only thank'you and bless you for al |
the pleasure you have given her, ard beg
you, utter stranger that you are, 60 pray
that this blow may not fall upon me.
Yours gratefully.
LAURA ST. MARY HOLT
cutter stranger that you are!"
Why, even in his concern and distress,
Amy att ALMOST laughed aloud. a
stranger to her--a stranger to herl
the letter, the handwriting, the name,
had all brought back the self.samd
memory that the cover OF the child's
letter had called back only the other
A. H. <.f xuh o MALL on
this: OF the only woman that he had
ever asked to be his wife, the only
woman he had ever loved.
| She had told him frankly and
simply that she was engaged to an
other man, and Amyatt had rushed
away, never asking, in his misery, SO
much as his rivals name.
So it had been Holt And he was
dead. Yes. evidently he was dead, for
she had said that she and the child,
the child who was dyiug-were quite
alone in the world.
But he could help her there! She
should be alone in the world no long,
er, for he would 60 to her-he would
stand between her and the world, Inc
would offer her his strong arm and
his true heart to guard her from al
evil, to keep Ter so that trouble
should not come nigh her.
AYE, but could he help her so that
trouble should not come nigh her:
No; no, alas! for\when he reached hel
side the little child was-dead. -Johr
Strange Winter, in London Ladies
Pictorial.
pORREn THEM WITHOUT MERCN