The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1894-01-07

fore he could answer, she stood erect and,
turning from him, replied:
81 am your nurse, Sister Angelica"
The man sprang up in bed and, with
eager lips, cried:
"Clande, have you forgotten met Look !!
Don't turn away. Have you then ceased
TO love mes Answer l was thinking of
you. | am dying Claude, Claude! look at
me- Answer met"
Through the somber figure, standing
with back toward him, ran quivering
shock of emotion, but her tone was calm
when she softly said
"lkow not of whom you speak. / am
Angelica"
The beseeching look on the face of the
dying man changed to one Of indescriba-
bly, dismay and his eager hands dropped
listlessly on the Counterpart. His eyes
were still fixed upon her, with a mute,
death-like sorrow reflected in their
depths. He sighed, and at the sound she
started, but made no sign of relenting.
With her eyes gazing steadfastly at the
floor before her, she stood still, while the
minutes slipped away.
Somewhere in the lower part of the
house bell changed its welcome to the
hungry paupers. Across the mesa came
a wind stealing along like some willy SER
pent. 1t entered the silent chamber, rip
ping the snowy curtains as it came.
Claude"
His voice was interviewer with suppl
eating tears. No answer came. Sister
Angelica pressed her lips closely together.
Claude, one word. / am dying. VIII
you pardon me2"
Only the murmur of the wanton wind
replied. Then she heard a Sob only one,
and all was silent. The clock, ticking
away the consumptive's life, from its
station on the mantel, seemed to boom
out the seconds with a thunderous roar.
And she stood speechless with a stream
of recollections flowing through her mind.
How sweet, how sad they werel Dead
rose leaves. Relics of a blissful time
when love was young and life was fair
When, through the eventides there came
across the sugar fields the faint aroma
of a passing day. How dainty the little
bows and artless bits of lace were placed
about her happy face to catch and hold
his eye How eagerly she plucked the
fairest flowers in her fathers garden, and
how tenderly she pinned them, darling
love looks into his eyes the while, upon
his coat.
All, the happy evenings when he stood
beside her while her slender fingers
danced along the ivory piano keys. And
when the air was ended how the roses
crept into her cheeks when he stopped
down and pressed kiss upon her half re-
luctant lips.
All, what was that2 A gasping sigh
Quickly she turned toward the bed and
saw him struggling in the arms of death.
Duty, her sacred vows, were all forgot
as she sprang to the bedside, and, throw
ing herself upon her knees, clasped her
arms around the dying man, crying as she
did so:
walter, it is l, your Claude. forgive
you. Live, for my sake, live"
He heard her not. The death rattle was
in his throat, aud the death dew was on
his brow. His eyes were glazing over. In
a frenzy of fear she poured some milk in
to cup and placed it to his lips.
Drink this and live, my Walter, my
love, my life. Wait. Come back to me.
Walter Do you not hear me, dearest}''
and the lips that had long since renowned
the world and earthly love were passion
ately pressed upon those Of her former
lover.
But it was useless. Life had fed. The
sister held within her arms a corpse and
the love light in her eyes. found no an
swering CLEAN. Slowly the mournful truth
broke its way into her mind as her arms
pressed close around the stiffening body.
Long and earnestly she peered into the
eyes that once glowed with love for her.
Then, when at last the grim presence of
death became apparent to her, she sadly
placed his body back upon the bed, ten
derby adjusted the thin hands, and rose
She turned toward the door, stopped
looked back at the silent figure on the
bed, n great sob of anguish broke from
her and she fell PROSTATE across the
floor.