Staunton spectator and vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1896-1916, 1896-11-11
you are ready.


Miss Mary Summerhayes sat in the
armchair by the window Of the hall
and wondered why she had allowed her.
self to openly rebel against the social
conventionalitiesN so carefully drilled
into her. She had endeavored to con-
vince herself that she had come simply
for the mothers sake, but somehow
the conviction did not seem perfectly
honest. An attempt to blame it on her
impulsiveness resulted in an even great
er failure. She grew half angry with
herself, and once she arose from her
chair with the intention Of seeking
safety in flight. But she sank back into
the chair, for the reason that urged her
to fight also chained her to the spot.
Then she determined to face it bravely
and found great sweetness and content
growing upon her. But even as it grew
fear replaced it, and all life seemed to
go out of her body, for she remembered
that his mother had said that he was
dying.
When Mrs. Thomas came out of the
sickroom, she found the girl weeping.
She sat down Oh the arm of the chair
and drew her toward her and comforted
her.
II am afraid you are somewhat up
set,.' she said. II am almost sorry I
asked you to come. It is SO good Of you. :" -.
The girl dried away the tears from
her eyes. :,
she said. "But am glad am here if
I can do anything to help you. Do you
want me to go in now?''
''Do you feel strong enough?''
"Oh, yes; am all right now. It was
only a momentary weakness Is he still
delirious?''
"Just the same"
''There is no one else there?''
''No. I sent the nurse away for lit
tie Sleep"
"You will come in with me-" she
said as she opened the door.
The room was darkened. and the
young girl stood in the doorway for an
instant, accustoming her eyes to the
dim light.
"Mary, Mary!' called the sick man
as she stood there, and the mother,
with her hand on the young girls
shoulder, felt shudder run through her
body. She led her to the bed, beside
which chair stood. Miss Summerhayes
sat down and gazed at the pale face ~
ing on the pillow. She placed one hand
On the hot, fevered forehead and with
the other took one Of his.
"Mary has come" she said in a low
voice, stroking his forehead and brush
ing back his hair.
After few minutes the patient gave
little gasp Of relief. She sat there for
ten minutes longer, and only once did
he again cry out "Mary!' and then the
cry had changed from one Of entreaty
to content. In few minutes his breath
ing showed that he was asleep, and the
girl, bending over him, kissed him
lightly on the forehead, disengaged her
hand from his and arose from her chair.
'sTake me away she entreated as
she fell into his mothers arms.
Aweek later Mary Summerhayes told
her mother Of her early visit to the
house in the square. There were tears
in her eyes.
cit does not matter now, mother. He
is dead. Dead, and he never knew how
much I loved him. He was conscious
just before he died, and he whispered to
his mother, tell her, mother, if you
see her, that loved her. He died soon
afterward I saw his death in the news
-papers-you remember the evening the
Fergusons were here and had that Sc.
we're headache. It was heartache, and
I did not come down. The next day |
went to see his mother, and she told me
how he died, and we cried together over
it,
"But. Mary, you surely did net love
the poor fellow? Why, you had scarcely
seen him before''
81 feel that I shall never be able to
love any one else in the same way,
mother"
"But Mr. Roanoke, Mary. You will
never have another chance to marry so
advantageously.
81 like Mr.. Roanoke very well-as a
friend. respect him too much to mar
ry him. Then, you know, he has ter
rible prejudice against widows she
continued with light touch Of her
usual, lively manner, and, in lapsing
again into intense seriousness, 81 am
widow, though a maid. Exchange.