The herald., 1893-02-05

health it was at the worst season of the
year, in July, when SO many young chill
siren die My husband is bookbinder,
If you please; he makes book covers. He
works at home and has customers among
the middle class, but during the summer
every ono goes away either to the coun-
try or to the seashore.
"Oh, yes, you see know all about it.
That was when our boy became sick
the night before the celebration on the
14th. He was first feverish and then he
had chill; then he began to cry and to
complain OF choking, and his crazy fa-
ther all the time was entertaining him
self by putting up his flags, his little red
balloons and his plaster images on our
windows; it quite set my teeth on edge.
Oh, these men, they must always be
thinking of politics; it is their play
thing, or whatever you have mind to
call it,
"But the next day, can tell you, he
thought no more of his decorations or
his illuminations. The doctor came,
looked alarmed and put on the poor
child's back "a plaster as large as my
hand. Pleurisy. Do you understand
how child no older than he is could
have such sickness? We were in
straitened circumstances. l am not
ashamed to acknowledge it. My hus-
band went out to try to collect two or
three bills, but it was of no use; every
one had gone away. And then it almost
seemed as if we could not make our boy
well again, our dear little fellow.
1--WE live, you see at SO Vinaigries
street. We have oiAy two rooms, and
the bedroom has no window except one
that looks out upon a wall. Then the
doctor said: You must take him to the
hospital. will give you line to the
house surgeon, who is one of my friends.
Oh, but that was hard. We carried him
there in cab, although l had to take
pair of sheets to the pawnshop to pay
the fare. But at the hospital door my
husband embraced our little boy, whom
1 was carrying wrapped up in a woolen
blanket, and said to me abruptly, You
go in alone; haven't the courage
81 went in--rnothers are strong; they
have to be--but when the house surgeon
took Leopold from my arms it seemed
as if my heart would break. Then l
went out of doors to find his father, who
was smoking while he waited for me-
When he saw me come out alone with
my blanket over my arm, he threw his
pipe down on the sidewalk, where it
broke into twenty pieces, and then we
walked home side by side without say
ing a word. l shall never forget those
six weeks that Leopold staid at the
hospital 1t was summer, and | believe
that the weather was beautiful, but all
that time it seemed to me as if the sun
never shone.
eyes, | could see him Sundays and
Thursdays, and in spite of the rules /
carried him sweets, toys, like this, con-
cealed under my shawl, and they told
me that he was getting better, that he
would certainly get well. But when l
would once get out into the street on my
way home it seemed as if could never
stop crying. Still had to force back
my tears and not return home with red
eyes, on account of my husband, who
could not go with me, for he had found
work again.
"He suffered as much as l during our
boys absence, you understand, though
all the time he tried to put on a brave
face but once when returned from the
hospital | surprised my poor husband,
who was weeping before one of Leopold's
old photographs, which he had placed
on his work bench. Now it is all over,
and happily over, all the sorrow," said
tho poor woman, half devouring her
child with kisses, ''and you will see your
father again; he is even now getting
breakfast for you, and you will get well,
my darling, and you will grow large and
strong. He has good plump checks al
ready. And you will take your cod
liver oil to please your mother, will you
not, my boy"
While the poor woman was thus pour
ing out the fullness of her heart the bus
conductor Che was father) and the elder
sister of charity (she was a good woman)
listened to her with encouraging smiles
But what was the other nun thinking
about, the young sister, so pale, with the
aristocratic looking hands, who had low
cred her velvety eyelashes as if absorbed
in deep thought She thought to her.
self as she sat there, "Here are two peo-
pie who are bound together for better OF
for worse, who love each other and who
have a little child" She thought to her.
self that sonce-oh, it was a very, very
long time ago, long before her kindly
hands had ministered to suffering hu-
manity-she had had dream, pure
and noble dream, which came back to
her like vague remembrance, revived
by the simple remarks of the unworldly
working woman. She is dreaming of the
past she remembers.
Her name then was Annette de Car.
daillan. She graduated from the Con-
vent of the Sacred Heart, and in the
dukes Cher father's) house the high win
dows of the young girls room looked
out into the large garden. 1t was spring
time, and she gazed into the midst Of a
blossoming chestnut tree, all alive with
the songs of birds. Then her uncle, the
archduke, arranged with the help of her
parents her marriage to Lord Cayendale,
of the Oldest nobility Of Ireland. And
she hears again the sad theme in minor
key Of the Hungarian mazurka, which
the orchestra, concealed behind large
palms, played at her coming out ball.
How embarrassed she had felt at the
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