The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1895-12-11

tion which indicated wish to write
and with horrible fear taking pos
session of him, he gave her paper and
pencil and this is what she wrote for
him:
''You have your wish. You will
never hear my voice again. I am
stricken dumb"
1t was noised about in the commu-
nifty, and people talked-old people
especially, of what they called "vis-
itation of God"
The doctors had another name for
it; they called it acute paralysis, and
said IL was reflex and would pass away
presently, but they we're wrong in
their representations Luella went
about her work again, the light house,
hold duties that developed on her, but
not one word came from her mute
lips.
Allan, who was beside himself with
grief and disappointment, urged her
to learn the labial language, indeed
offered to forego speech for her sake,
and learn the lessons of silence with
her, but she would not listen to the
suggestion. And then begun the mar
tyrdom of Allan Davis.
Luella could hear perfectly, so that
her husband and friends were not con-
strained in their speech, but any word
she had to say, any message or answer
III their conversation coming from her
must be written. She was always pro-
vided with the means of communica-
tion, and writing tablets of the daint-
lest sort we're scattered around the
house, like some new bric-a-brac of
speech.
The devotion of Allan Davis to his
afflicted wife was something marvel
Gus. He never wearied of lover-like
attentions, and he never demanded the
slightest recognition of them. He
spent every hour OF his existence-not
employed in his business-in devising
pleasures for Luella, aud on those un-
fortunate days when dumb devil of
ill-nature asserted itself, he met her
mute reproaches with establishment
that was neither unmanly nor servile,
but Christ-like. His bonny brown
locks turned gray, his laughing, boy
ish face took on the shadows of early
age, but his spirit remained serene
and patient, and the love he held in
his heart for this woman grew brighter
and more fervent toward the end.
And the end came before the fire of
youth had quite turned to ashes-the
end for Allan Davis.
1t was simple case OF influenza at
first, with no suggestion of danger,
until one day the doctor looked grave,
and the next he said to Luella: "Your
husband will dic"
He watched her sharply, but no
quiver of an eyelid told HIM what he
wanted to know. She wrote ques-
ton on her tablet:
Chow soon?"
"At any time-tonight, perhaps, ="
answered the doctor, and again he
watched her narrowly. Did he sur
prise flash of Joy in her cold eyes, a
strange tense drawing of the lines
around her severe mouth? 1t might
have been his Imagination, but at any
rate he was glad for Allan Davis.
The end came at night, when Luella
watched with her husband alone. He
had been sleeping and dreamed some
thing that wakened him with wild
start, and made all things look unreal
all except his wife, who bent over
him with a new solicitude in her face.
He saw it and was grateful.
| uHi boihB W iO"'o yo", NY ueai
he said in tho slow precise tones OF
those who are nearly done with hu.
man speech, twill you not let me have
as my last glad heritage a word OF
forgiveness for the great 1 did to
you ?"
Luella looked at him, and an un
mistakable CLEAN Of triumph shone il
her eyes and expressed itself in hel
movements as she seized her table,
and wrote something upon it in PLAIN,
distinct letters. Allan saw the lool
and the hope that had for years sus'
tained him, seemed now to be seemed
now about to be realized, and he lift
ed his head to read for the last tim'
that beloved handwriting.
But God, more merciful than hi
creature, had anointed his eyes with