Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1896-10-15


! door. 1T would not DO for your sis'
ter to be alone; this may 30 on for =
couple Of days."
1t did not 90 on for couple Of days,
but Mrs. Leach lived through that
| night In the same seml-comatose state.
The two watchers sat In her room until
supper-time, when they left their
mother In charge Of O hired nurse,
whose services Joyce had been forced
! to seek.
After supper Stephen Leach seemed
at last to find his tongue, and he
talked In his quiet, almost gentle voice,
such as some big men possess, not
about himself or Ills past; but about
Joyce and the future. In a deliberate,
businesslike way he proceeded to In
vestigate the affairs Of the dying wo-
man and the prospects OF her daugh-
ter; in a word, he asserted his authori-
ty as brother, and Joyce was relieved
and happy to obey him.
1t is not In times Of gayety that
friendships are formed, but In sorrow
or suspense. During that long even
ing this brother and sister suddenly be-
came intimate; more so than months
of prosperous intercourse could have
made them. At 10 O'clock Stephen
quietly insisted that Joyce should go
to bed while he lay down, all dressed,
on the sofa in the dining-rOOm.
Il shall sleep perfectly; it is not the
first time have slept in my clothes"
he said simply.
They went upstairs together and told
the nurse of this arrangement. Joyce
remained for some moments by the
bedside watching her mothers peace
full sleep, and when she turned she
found that Stephen had quietly slipped
away. Wondering vaguely whether he
had Intentionally solved her difficulty
as to the fraternal goodnight, she went
to her own room.
The next morning Mrs. Leach was
fully conscious and appeared to be
stronger; nevertheless, she knew that
the end was near. She called her two
children to her bedside, and, turning
broken sentences:
II am ready now-I am ready" she
said. "Dears, l am going to your
father-and. thank God, / can
tell him that / have left you together.
] always knew Stephen would come
back. found it written everywhere in
the Bible. Stephen-kiss I.le, dear"
The man leant over the bed and
kissed her.
''Ahv' she sighed. "how 1 wish 1
could see you-just once before l die.
Joyce!' she added, suddenly turning
to her daughter, who stood ut the other
side of the bed, tell me what he is
feel it. Listen! He is tall and spare,
like his father. His hair is black, like
his father's-it was black before he
went away. His eyes, know, are dark
almost dark. He IS pale-like a
Spaniardw
Joyce looked across the bed with
slow horror dawning i'm her face, look
ed into a pair of blue eyes beneath
tawny hair. cut short. as a soldiers
hair should be. She looked upon n
man big, broad, fair-English from
crown to toe-and the quiet command
Of his lips and eyes made her say:
"Yes, mother, yes.'
For some moments there was ST.
lence. Joyce stood pale and GREATNESS,
wondering what this might mean.
Then the dying woman spoke again.
kiss me-" she said. II am GO
ing. Stephen tirst-my first born! And
now Joyce and now kiss each
it / want to tell your
father"
With a last effort she raised her
hands, seeking their heads. At first
Joyce hesitated, then she leant for
ward, and the old wOman's chilled
fingers pressed their lips together.
That was the end.
Half an hour afterward Joyce and
this man stood facing each other in the
little dining-room. He began his ex-
PLANTATION ut once.
stephen" he said, twas shot-out
there-as a traitor. could not tell her
that! l did not mean to do this, but
what else could do?"
He paused, moved toward the door
with that strange hesitation which she
had noticed on his arrival. At the door
he turned, to Justify himself.
81 still think" he said gravely, that
II was the best thing to do"
Joyce made no answer. The tears
stood in her eyes. There was some
thing very pathetic in the distress of
this strong man. facing, as 1t were, an
emergency of which Ire felt the delica-
cy to be beyond his cleverness to han
die.
Last night l made all the necessary
arrangements for your future-just as
Stephen would have made them-as n
brother might have done. He
and l were brother officers in n very
wild army. Your brother-was not
good man. None of us were"
His hand was on the door.
"He asked me to come and tell you,"
he added. 81 shall go back now"
They stood thus, lie watching her
face with his honest, soft blue eyes, she
failing to meet his glance.
MAY come back again?" he asked
suddenly.
She gave a little gasp, but made no
answer
II will come back in six months" he
announced quietly, and then he closed
the door behind him.-Henry Seton
Merriman in The COrnhill.