The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, 1894-04-20

where she was at work getting dinner
and surprise her with the flowers and 4
kiss.
"Softly l opened the kitchen door
There was nc sign Of any preparation
for dinner-cverything was in order.
Perhaps Nora has cried herself sick, [
said to reassure myself. went to the
bedroom-everything in order there, but
the room was empty. Neryously | hur-
ried through every room, looked into
every closet, went down cellar, out to
the coal shed, up to the attic. | didn't
expect to find her in any of these places.
l was sure she had gone away, but l
must look for her somewhere.
II went back to the bedroom again
and there found the note she had left
for me pinned to my pillow.
Poor little tear stained letter! Here
it is. worn in the folds and yellow with
age-this is what she wrote:
Don't think 1t is because 1 am angry at
what you did this morning that ] go. i cannot
stay, because i cannot make you happy. You
will at least live in peace without me. l love
you, my husband, and l always will. Think of
me sometimes and of how much l loved you.
But, no; if it makes you sad to think of ne, for
get me. God bless you. l love you. NORA.
THAT was all. 1t gave no clew. Was
she living or dead?
eff living, 1 was determined to find
her. l searched for her everywhere, adj
vertised, traveled-all in vain. Nearly
three years passed, and not a word had /
heard from her. I had almost come to
the conclusion that she was dead. Dur
ing that time it was that my hair turned
white.
81 was working az a reporter on a
New York morning paper, gathering
news and searching for my wife.
Zone bitter cold night the last week
in January l was sent to report a fire
that had broken out in a large tenement
house in n of the poorest quarters Of
the city. The greater part of the build
ing was in flames when 1 arrived. The
f1remen saw that it would be useless to
try to save it and were directing their
efforts to getting out the frightened in
mates. did what Icould to assist them
in r~escuing the poor wretches.
Sat last, when we thought they were
all out the smoke cleared away from a
part of the building, and by the light of
the flames that leaped up we saw the
figures Of two women in awindow. One
Of them had a bundle in her arms and
was preparing to leap to the ground. [
motioned her back. In a moment a fire
man moved a ladder to the place ascend
ed and returned with one of the women,
a little hunchback. The other, the one
with the bundle, clasped it convulsive-
ly, tottered and would have fallen to the
ground but for the fireman who had
just reached her. Quickly he descended,
bearing her unconscious form.
"'Guess she's about gone. Get .
place ready for her, quick! Let me lay
her DOWN. he shouted.
"Of came my overcoat, and the fire.
man laid her ON it.
Il stopped to see if she was badly
burned, and also to see what was in the
bundle. A little child about 2 years old,
round eyed and frightened, looked at me
from the wet, steaming blanket that
was wrapped around it. A pretty little
thing, l thought a. 1 disengaged it from
the blistered arms that clasped it. The
oman was badly burned about the
body. I drew away the towel that she
had around her head and saw-my wife!
pale and worn, but still the same fea-
lures, the same clustering brown curls On
her forehead. Ny wife, given back to
me like this! Frantically I called for
help, for adoctor. There happened to be
II in the crowd.
"Be looked at Morals burns and shook
his head. There was no hope. She
would probably never open her eyes
again, but she did. The great dark eyes
looked up at me, and the lips murmured:
'Maudie-baby."
Il held the baby over her. She smiled
family and said:
Tell him-I always-loved-I-
"But her eyes closed, and her head
fell against my breast. She was dead
Did she recognize me in those few
moments? God only knows. Icould not
tell
Il II =
"The crippled girl who was with her
in the window, and whom she insisted
on the fireman rescuing first, told me
how she had met Nora in the hospital
v two years before, when Maudie
was born, Of Nora's kindness to her and
of her weary struggle for bread, and she
it was who found and gave to me her
wedding ring and a tiny locket with my
picture in it that was fastened around
her neck when she died. She had never
parted with them, no matter how great
her poverty was. New York Adver-
tiser.
A False Maxim.