The Globe-republican., 1895-12-19

QuCe0 ner mOCQcr 20 20 OUT III ScdICn VI
some for her.
The poor woman left the bedside pos
sessed with the one desire Of pacffying
her child, and traversed the streets with
weary steps. debating in her mind what
excuse she would make on her return
for not having procured that which she
felt was entirely beyond her reach.
With bowed head and sorrowful heart
she kept repeating to herself the words
of the physician, so full OF hope 1oe
Greta: AT the coming of the nrse
roses she would suffer no more;; ana
we'll as she guessed the mOurnful mean
ing of the prophecy, she could not neip
being inspired for an instant by tna1
spirit of hope which buoyed up her
child. Quickening her steps, she took
the road as il by a sudden inspiration
toward the governors house. hesitated
as she reached the brilliantly lighted
mansion, but at last, taking courage.
knocked timidly at the door. which was
Immediately opened by a man-servant.
What do you want, my good wo-
mani"
Ito speak to Madame Patess0n."
* cannot disturb madame az such an
hour Of the night"
ooh! implore you. let me see her.!
The servant repulsed the poor
mother, and was about to shut the door
in her face when Madame Paterson and
her daughter. with roses in their hair
and on their bosoms, crossed the hall.
paused to question the servant. and
then approached the widow, who briefly
and tearfully told her pathetic story.
20, madame! o. mademOiselle!
implore you to give me one rose, only
one, for my dying child! God, who gave
His son for the redemption OF the
world, will reward you"
Madame Paterson shrugged her
shoulders with a hooking laugh, and
passed on. Her daughter, the brilliant
Edele, remarked that her father did not
buy roses for their weight in gold. to
throw them away upon street beggars.
The door closed, and the woman
turned toward her home. On passing
the Church of Sainte-Britta, she per-
ceived the clergyman's wife laying
large bouquets of roses on the altar. full
blown blooms of rich red, as we'll a.
branches Of exquisite buds Of blush,
orange and pink.
The lady formed a sweet picture as
she bent over and arranged the floral
treasures sent her by rich parishioner
of her husbands. Her blue eyes spar
killed. with delight, and her voice was
soft and silvery. She was the mother of
six lovely children, and the widow felt
that she would surely pity her in her
bitter grief. Full of these hopeful
thoughts, she entered the church, ap-
preached the altar, and preferred her
modest request for one rose wherewith
to gladden. the eyes of her dying child.
Madame Neils. although by no means
devoid of kindly feeling, was proud in
her own way, and had determined that
Sainte-B ritta should be the best deco
rated church in the town. In what she
mistook for pious enthusiasm, she for
got that the only true temple Of God is
the human heart-that a charitable
action is more precious in his sight than
the costliest earthly offerings which can
be laid on his material; altar. In the
ardor of her outward devotion, she for
got that Christ had himself declared" In
asmuch as We have done it unto one Of
the least Of these my brethren, ye have
done 1t unto me-" and in her mistaken
zeal she avowed that it would be little
less than sacrilege to rob the altar Of
God of even one fair blossom. Upon 50