The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1896-06-24
cuaPTER XII-Continued.

come TO Mrs. lVenS. VINO Was very SICK.
Waiting only fer hasty breakfast, and
cbeying Briar's instructions to wrap
herself warmly, she departed on her
'errand Of mercy.
Through the peaceful quiet OF the
Sabbath morning she made her way
over the we'll kept road, until she
reached the rectory, an unpretentious
little house, sitting back in an equally
pnpretentious garden.
4 narrow, beaten pathway led to the
modest entrance, and on either SIDE OF
it we're tiny borders of dead flowers,
around whose lifeless stems the brown
leaves clung convulslVely.
Margaret's ring was answered by
'tired-looking maid servant, who led the
way into the poorly furnished little
parlor. While she questioned the girl
las to her mistress condition Margarets
eyes travelled wistfully about the room,
whose CHEEKY homeliness not even the
notwithstanding influence Of poverty,
could entirely dispel. Yet there was
something vaguely pathetic in the worn
chairs, the faded, almost threadoare,
carpet; the few inexpensive ornaments,
and the numerous makeshifts; little
pretensions to comfort and luxury,
which deft fingers had fashioned into
pretty deceptive devices, all presenting
the long and patient labor, thoughtful
love, and tender self-denial, so often
wrought into the possessions OF the
poor.
Up stairs in the front room she found
the brave little woman who had seem
ed 50 well only a few days before,
stretched on bed of weakness, the
busy brain no longer worrying over the
wants of growing family, the tireless
feet resting at last. Near the bed sat
Mr.. Ivens, the rector OF the most un-
popular church in s.. He was man
of many talents and attainmeuts, but
unfortunately for himself he lacked the
self-confdence necessary to meet ano
overcome the difficulties Of life.
Margaret knew and understood ma.
ture SO similar to her fathers. She
discovered the wealth Of learning anc
mobility of soul hidden under an over
mastering diffidence, and she admired
the qualities which others could not see,
T. Now as she saw him, bowed by the
shadow Of coming great sorrow, hold.
ing the nerveless hand that had smooth.
ed so many difficulties for him, YET
whose cheerful aid could never more be
his, she felt her heart filled with com.
passion no words could express.
He was so engrossed with his GRIEF
that he scarcely noticed her as she
quietly glided to his place beside the
bed, but Mrs. Ivens had heard the al
most noiseless footsteps and opened
her eyes wearily.
D All, it is you, Margaret, she said
with momentary flush Of pleasure on
her pale face.
Margaret nodded cheerily, and laid
her hand, with soothing tenderness,
on the hot, throbbing head. Does ii
ache much:" she asked.
No, Margaret, only little. Will
you tell Mary to get the children ready
for school? 1 should be up to do it my
self, but am very tired"
4 don't believe you ever admitted aa
much before, was Margaret's rather
unsteady answer, The children
won't go to school to-day. 1t is Sun
day"
Sunday, and I lying here! James,
why didn't you tell Lac! We had Sc
much to do to-day"
Her eyes sought her husbands. but
he was looking rather wistfully at Mar.
garet.
Margaret read the unspoken Language
of that glance, and she found 1t very
difficult to answer cheerfully.
We are going to let you be lazy to-
day, Ellen, so that for,nida BILE amounl
of work must wait for another Sunday.
i intend to assert my authority, and, tt
begin, I'll sit here while Mr.. Ivens eats
some breakfast. Mary told me to sene
him down."
The gentleman took this hint, and, as
obedient as child, left the room. He
knew that Ellen was safe and happy il
Margaret's hands, and already he fell
better for her cheerful, helpful pres.
ence.
Halfway down the stairs he was mel
by preternaturally grave child Of {
years, whose wistful eyes gazed sadly
into his. Evidently she had been wait.
ing for him, for without a word she
stole quietly to his side and allowed hel
hand to glide with reassuring sympathy
Into his.
! In this silent way they reached the
dining-room, where Mary had breakfast
on the table, and three tots aged, re.
spectively, six, four, and two seated il
their high-chairs, waiting for papa.
Little wonder that Margaret's minG
should be filled with painful thoughts
of these babies, as she sat by
their mothers bedside, or that her eyes
became so misty when Ellen expressed
such gratitude for her attentions.
If you only knew how glad it makes
me tc do even little for you," she said,
with struggle to speak calmly. You
see, it is so seldom I can be useful, that
I am particularly proud now. II had
been poor, l believe l should have taken
up nursing as profession.
"Yes, but you need not do it now,
Margaret. You don't know what itNis
to be poor. 1t is hard for him and the
children"
= The voice was full of pain.
i have known" Margaret answered.
"I have known the pain and cruelty OF
At. The scales Of life are so uneven. I
have no more right TO comfort and lux
iury than YOU have, and yet But
did not come here to talk on such dole
ful subjects; I want to see you bright
and cheerful"
1t is hard to be bright and cheerful,
Margaret. Lying here with nothing to
do, 30 many thoughts come to me. I'm
afraid have given up so often when
should have helped and encouraged
flames. Now it is so near Christmas
and so much to do. while l ain here
helpless. lou must help me 10 get
well, Margaret. Help me TO get strong.
Why do you turn your eyes away: Is it
because All! is it because YOU
think shall never be we'll again: Some
times have thought so too. and have