The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1895-09-19
'LOYALTYv'
BY WILLIE MUDFORD.

the nlgNJ Inerc seemed an improve
meat, but it was only momentary, and
he has remained just as you see him
now. Perhaps I was mistaken even
then"
She spoke with the calm, matter-of-
fact preciseness of her calling, and
watched in respectful silence while the
doctor made his wonted examination.
Standing at the foot of the bed, in her
plain gray dress and professional cap
and apron, she looked a strong reliant
figure, capabl of the patient fulfill
ment of burdensome duties, and of
swift, tasteful action in moments of
emergency. Her face was pale, and
appeared paler still for the deep rings
under the eyes that told of a nights
vigil; and, though trained for years to
impressive contemplation of suffering
and sorrow, its features were all too
finely moulded and sympathetic to
wholly conceal nature instinctivaly
gentle and tender. The doctor put his
watch back into his pocket and slowly
buttoned his coat as he looked at the
unconscious figure in the bed.
''The change may come at any mo-
ment," he said, land when it does
there will be nothing for US to do. He
cannot possibly live through the day;
he may die in the next five minutes. l
will stay here a little; am not busy
this morning, and''-he scanned her
keenly and noted the WEAKNESS her
eyes could not conceal-''you had bet
ter rest in the armchair. You 10 ok
bit tagged. Did you get any sleep last
night?''
"No," she answered, simply; moving
to the chair he wheeled forward for
her. She failed to add that she had
taken no rest and scarce any food since
Wednesday afternoon, though it was
then Friday. He would have scolded
her for want of care for herself and
her secret was inestimably dear to her.
The doctor drew the blinds to shut
out the morning sunlight--there was
little need for light now. Moving
noiselessly about the room he amused
himself examining the books and
odds and ends that Uttered the room,
glancing from time to time towards
the bed where his dying patient
breathed slowly and heavily. He even
wondered about the identity of the
man whose existence had only come to
his ken when he was called by the
laundress a couple of days back. 1t
was then too late to discover much, for
the patient had lain all night insensi-
BILE by the heavy brass fender, with a
fractured skull; and precious hours
wherein it might have been possible
to raise the depressed bone, remove
the blood clots and relieve the pressure
on the brain-had passed without sus-
picion. The shadow of death was
creeping across the large room in the
Temple. The charwoman found him
in the morning, and screamed for the
assistance and the comfort of her
daughter Hannah. Together they be-
gan to treat the poor gentleman for
what they Complementary termed
fits" but the girl discovering the
small wound at the back of the head
the doctor was speedily brought and
they volubly furnished him with the
leading facts
DR.. Pitcher quietly checked the rem
iniscent flow and fastened to place a
nurse in charge. He was satisfied that
the accident-as he was certain it had
been - could have but one ending.
There are few threads in the tangled
skein of London life that run their
length smoothly enough to enable
stranger to pick up any part and trace
its history; and DR.. Pitcher was too
accustomed to the knots, the sudden
entanglements, the confusing influence
or intruding threads, to expect to carry
far his investigations into the an
tecedents of an unknown patient The
ian was of the intellectual type, the
good forehead ard the long, we'll
shaped nose could belong to no stunted
mind. His books, if somewhat incon-
gruous, revealed literary appreciation;
the water-cOlors on the walls and the
china about the room argued taste; a
crucifX at the bed-head suggested a
religious temperament which the doc
tor, judging from the general surround
ings, surmised to be impressionable
rather than devotional On the writ
ing table he found letter from firm
of solicitors acknowledging the re-
ceipt of instructions and promising
"best attention" This he put into his
pocket.
Standing by itself in an old Oxford
frame was little, half-faded photo
graph of a girl in the evening dress of
the early seventies. The enormous
skirt, with two or three huge bows
down the centers the puffy sleeves
fastened at intervals with bands of
ribbon and closing tightly round the
wrists, the full, square-cut bodice, and
loose pile of hair controlled by single
strip of velvet, were all strange to eyes
accustomed to later modes, but no
enormities of dress could dim the vivid,
well-nigh wicked beauty in the girls
face. A black velvet band with lit
tie cross hung low on her bosom, and
heavy ornaments pierced her dainty
ears, but had her face been smeared
with the fantastic adornments of
Polynesian beauty had her teeth been
blackened and her lips run through
with bones, she would still have been
triumphant in loneliness, and the
trying fashion of twenty-five years
back was impotent against her
charms even when judged by modern
standards. Her small, pert face, with