The daily morning journal and courier., 1894-09-29
"Kirtleyl-Kirtley Bresm! It Is you.

"kirtIey'-kirtley Breem' " is you' or your ghost, at iastF
 His lips scarcely moved. but there was n half articulate "Mary!--" from between them. And that was all; for the man fell heavily and unconscious on the station floor; and there. at the threshold of his boyhood home and scenes. the blessed vacation Of mental night and It's rest had come. for time. to Kirtley Breem at last.
 It was upwards of month later when the managing editor awoke. He was lying upon a broad bed in the huge parlor of the ancient Brice mansion. The room was high and long and wide and cool. and but for the outlandish relics of sailing in the far-off seas hang Ing grotesquely against It's paneled walls 1t had the seeming to the one ly- Ing there of some pleasant cathedral nave. He knew the room. It was where. In the old days, had been plight ed with sirlish Mary Brice.
 Ills eyeilds closed again. and he thought he heard the whisperings of the breeze through the rustling frs, the chattering and low songs of the birds within the shrubbery. even the measured throb of the sea against its granite walls. He had known and loved these songs In his youthtide. long ago.
 By and by 1t seemed as if he caught another old-tIme sound within the room; the steady click of a needle somewhere near his head
 He will look, he thinks, but his head will not move: and then his unsteady glance alights upon his own hand. It is so like a skeletons that he imagines he smiles gftmly. But the hand. if but row of bones now. weighs incalcuIa- ble tons and falls somewhere. with a rattle? he wonders. among the folds of the snowy counterpane. A quick ear has heard even so slight a movement as this. There are soft and hurried footsteps. Then a woman's figure is bending over him. He cannot see, but in her eyes are unutterable longing, infinite patience, unspeakable dread.
 She gazes into his dull eyes an in- stant; rests one of her palms upon his forehead and hands with questioning touch; whispers to herself, Thank God! He Is out of danger now!' re- turns to her table and rereads, for the thousandth time. telegram, more than a month old now, from Elijah Whitaker, which says: Keep on for getting her. Be as though she was nothing to you. She pumping along like raft in shallow water; but if you care for her, your own future or the fu- ture of them that's more than help- less, quit sending telegrams; and don't come back here till give the word.'- when she stands and looks far out up- on the sea, repeating pitifully to her. self: "If 1t had not been for her. Oh, if 1t had not been for thatr'
 A gurgling sound as if the invalid would speak, brings her instantly to his side with cheerful smiling face. She lifts him little upon his pillow, feeds him tiny bits of broken ice, and finds that his emaciated hand is cling ing fast to her own.
 'Mary!-Mary Brice!" the almost mo- tionless lips are whispering, Cant -you-always-be-be to me like-like this?"
 She merely soothingly answered: ''Kirtley, will see"'
 She leaves his bedside gently, taking the crumpled message with her. She straightway dons her hat and wrap pings with determined little jerkings and stampings which jostle burning tears from her handsome, earnest eyes. And then. while another watcher sits beside Kirtley Breem through the live long droning September day, General Manager Mary" Brice and Acting Man. aging Editor Elijah Whitaker first know each other and all the sacrifice that was;-and that very evening, when the invalid awakened from another va cation in the land of nothingness and rest and reached out his skeleton hand while his lips quiveringly formed the question of the morning, there was an exultant flutter beside him and he dreamed or he knew that warm face pressed against his own while dream ing or knowing the first life-giving words of years: -,.
 tKirtley, Elijah whitaker says: Tell Kirtley Breem the board has unan- imously so passed!"