The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1895-11-16

| looked like Il case of somc sort, and the
little blue ribbons that tied it and that
were Topped SO daintily, seemed to
whisper that in its folds were concealed
that which was most precious to her
somebody's letters.
After that | was obliged to go away, and
when | came back Maria confded to me
that the little Southern lady went out
early III themorning, whether the day was
stormy or sunshiny, looking every place
for work, but failing to get it. Then, too
she was in debt for her board. She suffered
from that, not because the landlady was
unpleasant, for like many a woman who
takes boarders, her heart was tender and
she was only too glad if she could give a
helping hand to somebody who was in
trouble. The Gorgon who is supposed to
be the New York landlady, is libel for
too many OF them are thoroughly kind,
and when they ale not it is because they
have lost faith in the humanity which
has treated them too badly time and time
again.
One day when Amelie came in she paid
her bill in full, that poor, little bill, but
that night noticed she did not wear her
watch; still | never asked her a question.
You could not have offered her money.
She got an order to do two or three sketches
and was paid small sum, but she grew
thinner and paler, and even the cross old
scientist forgot to hurry his dinner one day
and told me that the girl had some trouble
| knew it was so. l knew that the long,
loving letters, those that meant encourage
ment to her, had ceased to come. | knew
that although she went about searching for
work, she did it without having her heart
stand. She would not ask her people, and
though she had written and written, there
was no word from her sweetheart. First,
she thought he must be ill. Then she
thought he must be dead; and yet, it SEEM
ed to her that somebody would have writ
ten to her about it. For three days she
and unable to 90 to see her, but the first
time | was up | met the postman and he
handed me letter and paper for her.
recognized the writing on both and ran
with the greatest glee to her room, dropped
them beside her, leaned over and kissed
her and left her alone with the message
from her lover.
That night we did not see her.
The next morning we heard wild
scream from the top of the house, and all of
us wondered and went to see what was the
matter. We were certain that Maria had
fallen down the staircase, but it was worse
than that. Maria had gone into the little
room to awaken its occupant, and found
her asleep. Sleeping that sound sleep, that
long sleep, from which there is no awaken
ing. In one hand was her lovers letter
This was what ne said-that brute for
whom she had worked, strived and died:
Ny DEAR AMELIE:
1t seems as if you would never accom-
plish what you started out to, and fear
that, much as | care for you, cannot wait
any longer. The daughter of the president
of the railroad that goes through here has
been visiting us, and for the sake of my
family | have concluded that it will be
wisest for me to marry her.
| am sure my dear that you will under
stand this and realize that it is not because
| love you less, but that l must consider
my position and my birth. / am a gentle
man and cannot work, and Heaven only
knows when you would earn enough to
take care of us. Perhaps you will meet
some rich Yankee who will ask you to be
his wife. Goodbye. Always your friend.
And he called himself gentleman.
And he broke the heart OF a brave woman
At least, that was what they all said.
But the cross old scientist came to my
room and showed me something that he
had picked up and that he wanted nobody
to know about me. 1t was a tiny cut-glass
bottle, with gold top. On the top was
engraved the name "Amelie." 1t had
come out OF the work-box, but that per-
fume had never permeated it. 1t was the
close smell Of chloroform. Nobody was
told of this, and when we dressed poor
Amelie for the last time, Marie brought in
as her Offering, because she said Miss
Amelia always liked them, little bunch
of bleeding hearts. / put them in her
hand and so she carried them to her grave
And nobody in the great vast city knew
how that poor heart bled, and nobody
knew how one woman had died and how
one man had stamped himself as scoun.
drel.
Somehow, after that, the scientist and
felt little nearer to each other, because he
knew the truth, and God knew the truth.
That is all. II was just an episode in a
boarding house not romantic place, but
my friends, people live and die there, and
nobody knows.
Away down south poor Amelie is sleep
ing, and this Decoration Day there went
down from queer old man, to be put
above her grave, a box of loses, while from
a grabbed Sc"tch servant there was a
bunch of bleeding hearts that bore her
name as well AS that of Dab. '-Philadel-
phia Times.
hpnIJT TTMpED