The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1896-08-30

y cJuldn l. as the orders were immediate
l II Is only two days journey from here,
I ana / ought not 10 De more than week
away at most, 50 keen a good heart II is
I crushing luck I know. my darling. but I
viii come back as soon as ever can, and
1 then-XOurs always. Berthe.
Days went by. Beatrice, days OF
I Wretcned waiting. only 10 end in disap-
I polntment, until my heart grew weary
and began to think that he would never
return 10 me- II was difficult 20 send
letters 20 him and I had % be content
I With one from him now and then, but Oh!
/ 50 seldom. However they were the only
3 things that I cared for. They We're all
I the same, because they told me the one
I dear thing that cared 10 hear-he loved
me used TO read them over and over
I again, until the pap=r g0- worn and rag
ged from being unf0-ded and folded 50
many times. Helen tried TO persuade me
/ 20 go out into society more, but every
I thing bored me, and [ preferred remain
I ing at home. A month went by, and then
a letter came to say that the expedition
was at an end, and I might expect BERTHE
back in three days time. Those three
( days seemed a lifetime-out they came 10
an end al last, and I was expecting him
/ to arrive at the house in a few hours
felt too restless TO remain indoors, so went
/ for ride. 1 took the road along which
/ knew he would come. l must have rid
den ten miles, when I met a native,
mounted on a small pony. gallOping to-
wards the station. Some presentiment Of
evil took possession Of my Overstrained
nerves. / stopped the man-questloned
him as to his errand
/ cannot stop. mem sahib,' he sad,
I go for the doctor. sahio. There is chol-
era down there. poinc-ng backwards with
his ringer 10 the way he had come The
captain sahib is very i'll, and many of
the sepoys.'
ssI SCARCELY baard hin, had beard onl,
the captain sahib. Scarcely knowing
what l did, struck my horse with my
whip, and galloped madly along the road
to the place indicated by the man. l never
stayed to think how far away
it might be, but rode as
horses swlftness. We travelled another
eight miles, and then ahead of me l saw
white tents, and heard the shouts and
noise Of newly-arrVed camp. An officer
IN Uniform was standing on the edge of
the road. pulled up my tired horse and
asked him where Capt. Neville was He
staggered back as though 1 had shOt him.
My voice, as 1 re-. Gated the question,
sounded hoarse and strange. The man l
addressed recovered himself with a wis.,
BILE effort He led my horse towards a
tent standing near by. He asked me to
dismount and enter. I did so. Another
man was seated al a table within writ
ing. AS I entered he raised his head. and
started violently on seeing who it was.
" Good heavens, Mrs. Farquhar how
did you come here?' he asked. l told
him 1 had ridden. he was a man l had
known years before. He knew l was to
marry BERTHE Neville. l went up to him
where he sat / laid my hand on his arm
and l begged of him not TO waste time
with me. l told him the news had reach
ed me that BERTHE was i'll, and 1 wished to
see him at once.
There were tears in the eyes of those
two strong men, Beatrice. At a sign
from the elder, the younger man quilted
the tent. As he did SO, the other came to-
wards me-
I can see his face now as he bent over
/ me, and in kind tones, with tears on his
/ face, told me, what my own stricken heart
/ had whispered to me already-that the
man loved was lying dead in the tent
| adjoining. He had been i'll only a few
\ hours. and he was dead
There is calmness born of despair,
Beatrice, which is far worse than passion
! ate grief. ! walked firmly to the tent
| where my dear one lay. My friend had
begged of me not to so, but I meant to
/ go, and l did.
Il saw him-the one man on earth for
| whom l would have given up life and soul.
/ lying cold and still. / spoke to him gently.
4 though l knew he could not hear me,
and kissed the face l had loved because
l had hope that the terrible disease.
which had robbed me OF him might take
me to him.
Il saw him in his coffin. and I rode
back to the station following him to the
! little cemetery where my little Gladys lay
sleeping, l stood by his grave, Beatrice.
and l heard the guns boom out their last
/ tribute OF respect to the soldier who
would never hear them more, and then I
! went back to Helen. l STAYED MANY
months with her. No tears ever came to
my aching eyes. Every day l rose to face
out another twelve hours of merciIess
sunshine without him, and every night I
went to rest with the heartache, which
time will never take from me. And now.
! afper all this long time. do YOU think il is
easier to bear it, Beatrice? 1t is NOT
easier. 1t is far harder-lfar harder. I
am no longer young woman, and that
Is my consolation. I want to be old. to
! grow weak, and then to die. because 7
know that somewhere, l know not and
care not where, but somewhere. We two
shall meet again-meet as we parted
and then 1 shall love him and he will
love me- You give your young pity 10
uhose who are dead, but l say spare some
Tor the living, those of us who have
| TO grow old with our eyes fun of bitter
/ tears or our hearts broken with the bur-
den they have had to bear so long.
You wonder why I will not give up nv
long drives on Fridays. in the rain and
the cold. Because go to him then. I go
TO ms grave. and kneel down with my
race in the damp grass, and I tell him
love him, love him for all time and
eternity. 1t was on a Friday that he left
me- so every Friday I go to him and
tell him this, and sometimes 1 think he
hears me, and my heart aches a little
/ less.
There now" she continued. Il have
told you all the pitiful story of my life
l have not tried to cover my faults. or 70
make excuses for my many mistakes. I
think we poor human beings are gener-
any responsible for the misery that haunts
our lives, some more so perhaps than
others but we do not escape the results
l know many people talk of a Judgment
uay and future punishment for all our
poor little faults here, but think me a he
retlc or not as you will, Beatrice. I think
we are given all our punishment here on
earth The future wilF be different. be-
cause shere will be no sorrow. Think what
II Is 10 go through twenty, thirty, per-
! maps forty years, carrying a wound in the
hesrt which nothing can heal, and then
tell me that our punishment is not meted